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anto-pops · 1 year

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Secrets - Ominis Gaunt x Female! Reader

Summary: After slinking out of Hogwarts for five long, stressful hours in the dead of night, you returned to a pissed off Ominis who is beyond fed up with your blatant disregard for your well being. The last thing he wants to do is let you off easy, so he patches you up and elects to 'punish' you for your infuriating secrecy.

Alternatively summarized as really, really shameless Dominis smut.

Yes, this is the most gratuitous thing I've ever written. No, I will not be taking questions at this time.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex (seriously)

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with much more informative tags

It was well after midnight by the time you returned to Hogwarts. You would have come back sooner if it had been up to you— seeing as you weren’t particularly keen on slinking through the school’s deserted corridors in the dark. But you were tired, bruised, and lacking a good amount of blood that had left your body through the deep slice in your leg, so naturally you moved slowly.

At least with the late hour, you would be able to avoid Ominis. There was no way you could deal with his particular brand of ire right now.

You didn’t mean to keep these things from him, but he was a chronic worrier. Every time you left the castle walls for something– be it for potions ingredients, or to help out in a nearby village– Ominis would grouse about it. While he knew you could handle yourself in most situations, he was convinced that you continued putting yourself in danger simply because it was the only thing you were used to. From the moment you entered his world in your fifth-year, you had been fighting for your life and solving other people’s problems without so much as a spare thought for yourself.

He made it very clear to you that he wasn’t a fan of your heroism. “It’s not your job to fix everything,” he had told you one night after you missed dinner to take on an entire Poacher camp by yourself.

You knew that. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t at least try to help where you could.

Which was precisely why you had agreed to travel to Marunweem in the first place. The town’s doctor had sent you an owl requesting your assistance after a caravan of medical supplies was raided by Ashwinders. The grimy bastards had holed up in a cave a mile outside of the village for the better part of a month and had been robbing its denizens left and right, leaving the townsfolk too terrified to leave their homes and run the risk of getting hounded.

Finding the slippery fuckers had been easy enough. What you hadn’t counted on was the second group of them that returned to the camp half-way through dispatching the first bunch. Their arrival had caught you off guard, which was the only reason one of the Scouts succeeded in hitting you with a Diffindo charm when your back was turned. You had been effectively handicapped for the remainder of the fight, limping around to dodge more curses and charms alike, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. In the end, you had made it out victorious, leaving a pile of Ashwinder bodies behind in your wake.

Climbing the staircase to the Astronomy Wing was a trial in and of itself; your leg stung fiercely every time you lifted your knee to take another step, the torn skin pulling uncomfortably and throbbing with every minute movement you made. You were all too grateful to reach the top landing, the massive, oak entryway to the Room of Requirement revealing itself before you’d even reached the wall. A small mercy.

The heavy door swung shut behind you as you limped straight from the entrance over to your potion’s table. There was only one thing on your mind, and you already knew you had no vials of Wiggenweld left, so you started methodically gathering what you needed to brew a fresh batch. You lit the burner and added Horklump Juice to the cauldron first, letting that simmer over low heat while you riffled through a drawer to grab a rag.

“Aguamenti,” you murmured under your breath, saturating the cloth with water before firmly pressing it against the jagged gash in your thigh. The fibers burned the raw skin underneath, but you grit your teeth through the pain, whimpering softly as you turned back to your Wiggenweld potion. Healing magic was always something that had eluded you– despite your best efforts– and as a result, you didn’t trust yourself to properly stitch your skin back together with a spell.

As you picked out a handful of Dittany to toss into the bubbling mixture, the telltale sound of clothing shuffling reached your ears. After the hellish night you’d just lived through, your instincts had you whirling around with your free hand hovering inches away from your side, ready to draw your wand from its holster in a heartbeat.

It was Ominis. Shit.

He was sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the room, bathed in the silvery moonlight that streamed through the skylight overhead. Your tunnel vision upon entering the room had allowed you to overlook his presence entirely– but he’d also made no move to make himself known. His sharp, angular features were drawn into a tense expression, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his crossed legs, betraying just how pissed he actually was.

Fuck.

“Ominis, what are you doing just sitting there? You scared me, why didn’t you say something?” Your heart hammered against your sternum so hard, you were certain that he could hear it.

“What am I doing?” Ominis’ voice was like a whip, cutting through the air as viscerally as the Diffindo charm that had sliced your leg. “How about you tell me where you’ve been for the last five hours, or why you’re bleeding out and trying to fix it with a potion instead of going to the Hospital Wing?”

There was a split second where you considered denying his claims, but you knew it was pointless. He had likely heard you mewling and smelled the blood the moment you walked through the doors— and besides, lying would only upset him further. “I had to deal with a few Ashwinders in Marunweem,” you confessed, wanting desperately to leave it at that so you could focus on dealing with your leg.

Ominis finally stood from the couch, his imposing presence amplifying as he strode across the chamber with his wand clutched tight in his white knuckled grip. “Since when are ‘a few’ Ashwinders getting the jump on you? Don’t sugarcoat the truth, I’m in no mood for your tip-toeing.”

You sighed as the blond planted himself directly in front of you, the slender fingers of his free hand reaching for your shoulder, and once he found you, he followed your arm down to where you held the rag against your thigh. His brows slammed down at the grating confirmation that yes– you were hurt, and he tsked disapprovingly before nodding over your shoulder at the potion’s table. “Sit down, I’ll do it– and turn off the burner.”

Once again, you found yourself hesitating, if only because your pride had never allowed you to easily accept assistance from other people. But the rigid set to Ominis’ shoulders had you complying relatively quickly, afraid that if you protested him helping, he would really let you have it. So you cranked the burner knob to the off position, then shuffled over to the other end of the table.

A soft hiss slipped through your teeth as you shifted to hoist yourself onto the flat surface, the movement pulling at your wound painfully, and you instantly felt Ominis’ warm hands around your waist. He helped you hop up on the table, letting you get settled as he pried the rag away from your thigh. His ministrations were soft and thoughtful; a stark contrast to the unyielding, vexed expression on his face.

Your trousers hung in tatters around your injured leg, fluttering listlessly around your calf, so Ominis tore the remaining fabric away and discarded it to the floor. His wand flared briefly as he summoned a collection of Wiggenweld potions beside you, handing one to you soundlessly.

As you worked the cork out of the top, you muttered, “When did you brew these?”

“I didn’t,” Ominis replied evenly, taking the damp cloth from your trembling fingers to re-saturate it with water. You jolted in place when he pressed it to your thigh, but the tender sweep of his thumb across your unmarred knee soothed you instantly. “They’re technically Sebastian’s. I’m sure he’ll be less than pleased to find them missing from his trunk, but he’ll understand.”

Humming your acknowledgment, you finally popped open the vial and knocked back its contents, relaxing into the table as the liquid warmed your insides and worked its magic. When Ominis pulled the rag away from your leg, you were pleased to find that the bleeding had subsided significantly, but the skin was torn too deep to fully stitch back together after one dose of Wiggenweld.

The blond lifted his wand to cast a diagnostic spell, setting the blood-soaked cloth off to the side before a lyrical chant slipped from his lips. Vulnera Sanentur was far from an easy spell to cast– much less master– but Ominis did it without a second thought, never once lifting his head as he expertly worked to mend your skin. You knew that he had taken to studying healing magic after your sixth-year, but you hadn’t actually seen Ominis use any of what he’d learned until now. The feeling of your skin pulling together was strange, but not uncomfortable, and you watched wide-eyed as the gaping wound closed up and left only a faint, pink scar behind.

“When did you become so proficient with healing spells?” You asked him as he stood straight, summoning a few Dittany leaves into the palm of his hand. He twisted them between his fingers and wafted the scent towards his face before holding them out to you.

“Around the same time you and Sebastian started using yourselves as shields in Crossed Wands. Now hold these on top of the area for a bit, otherwise the scar will linger,” he instructed you matter-of-factly, and his stern tone made your shoulders sag. You truly hated it when he was upset with you.

“I really am sorry, Ominis.” You muttered remorsefully as you accepted the leaves, and his brows pinched together at the sound of your dejected tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you with all of this–”

“I’m getting rather tired of sitting idly by while you throw yourself into danger. What is it going to take for you to realize that what you’re doing is incredibly careless? What happens when the next spell hits a little higher and kills you, hm? What would I do then?” His frustration rolled off of him in thick, potent waves that made your stomach churn with anxiety.

“Ominis please, I know you care about me, but there are things I’m obligated to do– especially as a wielder of this ancient magic. No one else can do what I can–”

“I really don’t care about everyone else,” he practically growled the statement and closed the miniscule space between the two of you so that he could brace his arms on either side of your hips, caging you between his long, lithely muscled arms. “All I care about is you and your wellbeing, but you have this infuriating ability to do the exact opposite of what I ask. Why? Sometimes I get the feeling you see me as more of a chastising parent than your boyfriend.”

Hearing that made you scowl, “That’s absurd, of course I don’t see you that way. I just hate to worry you with these things–”

“Well, I am worried. I’ve been worried. You used to be more careful about these excursions of yours, but now you’re beyond reckless. You used to listen to reason and now you’re too stubborn for your own good.” His eyes were like burning pools of moonlight, piercing through your very soul as he leaned forward to trail his hand up your arm and across your shoulder. “I have a growing distaste for your rebellious streak. Why must you insist on being so disobedient?”

Something about the word disobedient had your retort shriveling up in your throat, and your mouth snapped shut with an audible clack of teeth while your eyes flickered between Ominis’. His expression was drawn tight, but there was something else there– something domineering about the way he spoke to you. You’d seen this side of Ominis before, but it had been a long time since you’d actually done anything that worked him into such a state. Uncertainty washed over you like a bucket of cold water, and you swallowed around a lump in your throat.

Ominis’ hand on your shoulder continued to rise, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your clammy skin until they splayed outwards and he was holding you loosely by the neck. There was no helping your startled gasp at the brazen move, and you stared wide-eyed up at him as your nails dug into the surface of the table. Your silence was palpable, as was the shiver that coursed through you, and Ominis acknowledged both of those things with a taunting smirk.

“What, nothing to say now? Has it sunk in? Have I finally gotten through that ironclad head of yours?”

You honestly didn’t know what the hell was going on in your head. Things had shifted so suddenly that now instead of feeling remorseful for aggravating your boyfriend, you were keenly interested in seeing what treatment you’d won yourself by doing so. “I-I’m sorry, Ominis–”

He tightened his hand briefly to angle your head to the side, pulling another gasp from your parted lips, and he hunched forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your exposed neck. You could feel his lips smiling against your pulse, betraying exactly what he had in mind for you, and you whimpered pitifully under him.

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry, I asked if I made myself clear; I don’t like you putting yourself in harm's way, but I especially loathe it when you try to keep things from me.” You felt the pinprick of his nails digging into the soft skin below your jaw– not overbearingly tight– but it made you acutely aware of the placement of every one of his fingers, and the sensation had your heart skipping beats one after another.

“I know, I understand,” you whispered, your voice airy and fleeting. “I wasn’t going out of my way to keep secrets– I just came here to take care of my leg, I wasn’t expecting you to be waiting for me–”

His teeth nipped at the skin of your neck, pulling another gasp from your throat and cutting your rebuttal short “Would you have told me about it if I hadn’t caught you slinking in here tonight?”

“E-Eventually–” you started to say, and in a flash Ominis was pulling away from you to glare fixedly in your direction. His grip on your throat stayed gentle but firm as he angled your face back to his, and one of your own hands finally shot up from the surface of the table to wrap around his slender wrist.

“No lying,” he hissed, nearing closer so that his lips were mere inches away from yours. “You and I both know you would sooner tangle with Devil’s Snare before telling me you’ve been galavanting through the Highlands taking on dark wizards by yourself.”

“I would have,” you bit back at him, the conviction in your tone making him draw pause. “Maybe I would have omitted a few details, but yes, I would have told you. I don’t make a habit of not telling you things.”

“And yet, here we are.” The ghost of his breath danced across your lips, your mind flooding with unrestrained fantasies and ideas that were made all the more potent at the feeling of his thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw. “Sometimes I feel like the only way to keep you out of trouble would be to restrain you and lock you away in your bedroom. At least then I could make sure you stay safe.”

You hated arguing with Ominis. You despised making him doubt your sincerity. It made you anxious anytime you knew he was upset with you, in large part because he got angry with you so rarely. But right now, an offhand comment like that was doing more to frazzle you and fuel a slew of unholy thoughts that had no business existing at the same time he was scolding you.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

Ominis elected to release his hold on your throat at that moment, jarring you from your thoughts, and he dropped the appendage to your thigh. Your breathing hitched when he trailed his palm lightly over where your wound had been minutes earlier, and he shook his head disapprovingly at you. The scar was still evident under his touch– the Dittany leaves he’d given you still gripped loosely in your fist, unused.

“How does your leg feel? Any other wounds I need to know about?” He asked you, almost somewhat… cunningly.

The sudden change in topic wasn’t unusual, but it was the way he presented the question that made you pause before answering. You decided to humor him and testingly lifted your knee, pleased to find that doing so didn’t cause you burning pain any longer. “No, and it’s a lot better actually. Thank you.”

He seemed to contemplate his next words carefully, his wand-bearing hand sliding up your forearm to lightly grasp your elbow as the other skirted higher up your leg, stopping to toy with the frayed fabric of your torn trousers. “Don’t thank me yet. Come with me.”

In a flash, Ominis had tugged you off of the table, his grip on your arm like a vice as he began leading you further into the Room. “Ah– Merlin, Ominis, what are you doing?” You nearly tripped over your own feet, but the blond’s unrelenting hold on you kept you upright as he pulled you behind him down the narrow staircase that led to the larger portion of the vast chamber.

“Such simple instructions and yet you fail to follow them,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “At this point, I’m convinced you’re doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me, so consider this your punishment.”

Ominis knew exactly where to steer you when he reached the bottom step– with or without his wand– and the nervousness you felt was greatly overshadowed by the ripe anticipation that blossomed in your gut. He threw his shoulder against the door to the bedroom to shove it open before hauling you through the entryway, immediately getting to work to show you exactly what sort of ‘punishment’ he had in mind.

—

“Stop whining and use your words.”

Ominis’ sharp voice cut off your guttural moan, and he removed his hand from your throbbing core once again, killing your building release for the nth time tonight. You couldn’t help it; you sobbed at the loss. The imposing blond man leaned forward, whispering his response along your jaw slowly and playfully nipping at the skin as he moved down. “The sooner you apologize, the sooner we can cease this incessant game.”

You’d been here for some time already, sprawled out on your shared bed in the Room of Requirement with Ominis circling you like a hawk. Every so often he would elect to touch you again, giving you a modicum of reprieve from the burning tension between your legs, but not before pulling his fingers away right as you were on the cusp of your climax. The two of you had been going at it for close to an hour now, and it was suffice to say you were losing your fucking mind.

Your wrists had been tied snug together and bound above your head, rendering your hands useless as your boyfriend toyed with you to his heart’s content. You were a flushed, panting mess underneath him, hopelessly writhing against the sheets in search of more of anything. The ache between your legs was tantamount to torture.

As you drew your knees together in a feeble attempt to create some friction for yourself, Ominis felt you fidgeting and sat up to stop you in your tracks. His long, elegant fingers gripped both of your legs and spread them apart, leaving you fully exposed to him as a throaty whine sounded from your lips.

“Please, Ominis–” your raspy voice cracked on his name, drawing a dark chuckle from him that sent a thrill down your spine.

“I don’t know why you’re begging when you know you should be apologizing,” he chidded you, tilting his head to the side to cast a taunting look in your direction. “I know what you want, but what about what I want?”

“I-I already said I was sorry,” you gritted through your teeth, momentarily grateful that Ominis couldn’t see the piercing glare you fixed him with. How many times did he want you to say it? “What more do you want me to do?”

He moved into your space so fast, it made you gasp and press harder into the mattress. His eyes were stormy and swimming with emotion as he growled, “I want you to mean it. Every word. Apologize for keeping secrets and for making me worry– then you can start begging me to come.”

Ominis brought his hands to your chest to drag his blunt nails lightly down your front, stopping the appendages over your pert nipples to pinch the sensitive buds, and your stuttered apology caught in your throat at the feeling. “Hah– I am sorry Ominis, I really am. I’m sorry I scared you, I’ll tell you everything from now on– n-no more secrets– ah–”

The wet warmth of Ominis’ mouth came over one of your nipples, followed by the sharp sting of his teeth clamping down, and it had you moaning and arching into him further. You heard his throaty laugh, blearily lifting your head in an attempt to get a better look at him, but he was already moving back to sit on his heels with his hands tracing burning circles on your legs.

“Hm, that sounds better,” Ominis murmured down at you, trailing his fingers tentatively over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You had half a mind to shift your hips closer to him– desperate to finally have your release after so long– but you knew doing so would just set you back even further. The urge to please Ominis any way you could was bone deep, so you fought down the desire to move, remaining a twitching, keening mess atop the sheets.

“Please,” you whined softly, tugging pathetically on the rope bindings around your wrists. “I want you so badly Ominis, gods– I want you to fuck me, make me cum for you. P-Please, Ominis, please.”

He didn’t respond at first, his hands stilling against your legs as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. You sounded divine begging for him like this. It almost made him want to cave early and finally give you what you wanted… but that would be too easy, especially considering it was your sneaking around that had landed the two of you in this position in the first place.

No, he intended on playing with you a little while longer before wrapping things up.

“You know I like taking my time,” Ominis purred down at you, and there was no missing the teasing undertone to his voice.

The tension in your gut seemed to worsen in that instant, and you honestly could have cried.

Ominis’ hands left your thighs to brace on either side of you as he leaned forward, a predatory glint in his milky blue eyes. His head dropped into the hollow of your throat, flicking the tip of his clever tongue against your pulse before licking a broad stripe down the vulnerable column of your neck. You shuddered at the bold move, whimpering at the expression he bore when he pulled back to smooth down your hair affectionately.

“So I will take my time fucking you, and you’d best believe I’ll have you screaming my name so loud you won’t be able to speak afterwards. I’ll bend you in half– fuck you so hard that we break the damn bed– and you know what?”

It took you a second to realize he was asking you a question, but the most coherent response you could muster was a soft whine. It was enough.

“When you’re shaking under me, fucked out and sensitive from finally getting to come…” Ominis smiled, licking his lips as he bent forward again to whisper devilishly in your ear, “I’ll keep fucking you, hard and fast until you’re brainless and drooling and all you can think about or say is my name.”

You were positive you were already brainless. The filthy, wicked promises dripping from Ominis’ mouth left plenty to the imagination, and you were a damn good visualizer. With a low growl, he sank his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, biting and sucking an angry mark into your clammy skin. You moaned in earnest, all too pleased to finally be moving forward with things. You didn’t think you’d ever wanted to come so bad in your fucking life.

When Ominis pulled away, you half expected him to start marking up the other side of your neck, but instead he backed off to shift around and swing one of his knees over your bare chest. He held himself precariously over you, refraining from smothering you with his body weight, and in doing so you were faced with Ominis’ straining, confined arousal mere inches from your lips. You huffed out a needy breath.

“Be a good girl and take it out,” he instructed, a coy smirk stretching across his face.

You squinted up at him then, giving the rope around your wrists a pointed tug, and he felt the motion reverberate through your prone form. He only laughed at you, shifting slightly to rub his clothed erection against your lips teasingly.

“Use your mouth if you can’t use your hands.”

It took you a second, but when you finally understood, your mouth parted on a long, low moan as your hips wriggled excitedly. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you drew in a deep breath before zeroing in on the catch of your boyfriend’s trousers. You surged forward and dragged your tongue up the thick outline of his cock, tracing along his undoubtedly uncomfortable arousal until you were kissing your way up the fly to the button.

Ominis just listened, half amused and half extremely turned on as you struggled to figure out your plan of attack. You nuzzled briefly against his groin before throwing caution to the wind and deciding to just go for it. Hooking your front teeth over the edge of the fabric above the button, you absolutely allowed them to scrape over Ominis’ light happy trail, relishing in the shiver it drew from him. You tugged the material down, and with a helpful push of your tongue, you managed to get the button through the catch.

You didn’t bother to hide your excitement; a giddy noise weasled it’s way past your lips, and you grinned smugly to yourself. Ever the perceptive one, Ominis felt his waistband loosen and gently raked his fingers through your mused hair in silent praise. That was the extent of his congratulations, though, before he was tugging on the strands softly to urge you towards the significantly easier zipper. You caught the thin bit of metal between the tip of your canine and clenched your teeth, dipping your head to pull it down, and your victory was marked by the barely there sigh that snuck out of Ominis’ parted lips.

The blond elected to take pity on you then, sitting up on his knees just enough so that he could shove his trousers and briefs down around his hips. His fingers moved slower when he got to the front of his waist, tilting his head to the side before carefully peeling the restrictive fabric away from his groin, and his cock sprung free and arched proudly against his taut stomach. Taking himself in his hands, Ominis shamelessly angled his cock towards you and slapped the leaking head against your cheek a few times, leaving a streak of pre-come across your face that you feebly tried to lick away, to no avail.

You nestled fervently against his shaft, your enthusiasm palpable and more than enough to make Ominis’ head spin. He was positive he wasn’t meant to be feeling such warm fuzzies when he was supposed to be wrecking you as punishment.

Then again, you’d been a little too interested in his idea of payback earlier, so nothing was really going according to plan when he thought long and hard about it.

“Ominis,” you breathed, dragging his attention back to you restrained between his legs. Your soft lips brushed against the head of his cock then, your quick tongue flicking gently at the sensitive slit, and the sensation had him shivering as his breathing kicked up in anticipation. “Can I suck your cock?”

“I thought I answered that question already,” Ominis murmured, nudging his hips forward so he could smear warm pre-come all along your flushed lips. Your tongue darted out to lick at the slick trail, staring up at him with such intensity that you were certain he could feel your eyes on him. “You want it?” You nodded, licking your lips again as you tried leaning up to run your tongue over the head, but Ominis chose that moment to pull back just out of your reach. The whine that fell from your mouth was like music to his ears, and Ominis felt you begin wiggling your hips impatiently.

There it was. Ominis’ goal was to work you into a needy, frantic mess— he wanted you begging and moaning for him until he was sure he had shattered your composure entirely, and somehow he had a feeling that was what you wanted too.

Ominis’ fingers spread through your unruly hair and tightened a fraction as he pulled your head towards him, using his free hand to angle his impressive length towards your mouth. “Open.”

He could feel and hear your hot breaths against his achingly hard cock as you stuck your tongue out in invitation, and Ominis couldn’t help the sharp pang of lust that shot through him at the way you just… obeyed him. It was exactly what he’d wanted from the moment you walked into the Room tonight.

Breathing a quiet laugh, he went ahead and slapped the slick head of his member against your tongue, hissing softly when you immediately swirled the muscle around the head to lap up the copious amounts of pre-come he was already dripping with. The lewd, wet sounds coming from you beneath him were enough to leave Ominis twitching between your lips against his better judgment, and he tipped his head back as he lost himself in the blissful strokes of your perfect tongue.

“Ominis,” you breathed after a minute, your lips brushing lightly against his cock entirely purposefully. “Please fuck my mouth.”

Merlin.

He needed a fucking second to process that, his eyes widening up at the ceiling at the same time a predatory grin split your face. The shock was quickly buried, however, and Ominis regained some semblance of control when he tilted his head down at you and tightened his hold against your scalp. “Hm, I don’t know. Have you been good enough to get your mouth and your cunt fucked?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, chills breaking out all over your skin as a shudder coursed through you. Ominis loved being able to feel your physical reactions to his words, and he smiled despite himself. He was willing to bet that if he checked, you would be unbearably wet between your legs, staining the sheets preemptively with pooling slick.

“You don’t think so?” You asked him, voice low with arousal.

“It’s debatable,” Ominis moved back again, easily dodging your attempts to take him back in your mouth with an annoying smirk. “You’ve been pulling at the ropes for a while now, I can hear the fibers rubbing together.”

You flexed your fingers on cue, your brows furrowing as you shook your head. “I was only shifting.”

“Oh? How am I to know if you’re telling the truth?”

Ominis languidly stroked himself with a degree of confidence that made your mouth water. Your eyes flicked down to his cock, any ounce of shame evaporating from your body as you wet your lips and forced yourself to remain well behaved. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

“That’s unscientific– and also highly unlikely given the circumstances. How about this; you know I’ll always inevitably get the truth out of you one way or another. I’ll fuck your mouth, but if you’re lying to me, that’s all you get. All night.”

Your jaw dropped, utterly appalled by the threat, and your drawn out silence told Ominis that you had absolutely been fibbing– but he just flashed you a sly grin as he continued to lazily work his hand up and down his shaft. He let you mull his words over, noting your audible gulp before you were muttering under your breath, “Honest witches have nothing to hide.”

“Alright then,” Ominis hummed in amusement, sitting forward on his knees once again. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You did so all too eagerly– ecstatic when Ominis finally guided his cock into your mouth, the wet heat making him groan low in his throat, and the sound got louder when you moaned and closed your lips around him firmly.

Fuck.

Ominis slid deeper into your mouth, over your wet tongue, then oh– into your throat, and you had more than enough experience to be able to relax and take his cock nearly to the base. His thighs shook on either side of you, his hands finding their way back to your hair to hold you in place, and you took the liberty of hollowing your cheeks around him and swallowing.

“Bloody hell,” Ominis moaned, his eyes pinching shut at the blissful feeling as he rocked his hips back. He moved just enough for you to be able to breathe, but after nearly an hour of dealing with his erection pressed uncomfortably against his trousers, that was about the extent of his patience.

He got to work setting a steady rhythm, sliding his cock in and out of your incredible mouth, your tongue, hollowed cheeks, and the tiny movements of your head enough to leave him gasping your name. Your eyes were glued to him– unable to help but watch as a bright flush started to creep up the neckline of Ominis’ shirt and spread over his angular cheeks. In the heat of the moment, the urge to run your hands up his torso came over you, but the rope around your wrists stopped you in your tracks, making you whine around your mouthful. Ominis sighed and sped up some, encouraged by your muffled noises and the unrelenting, insane ministrations of your tongue against the underside of his cock.

Ominis grew braver and rolled his hips perfectly in time with the shallow bobbing of your head, the tip of his shaft sliding into your throat for just a moment, and your choked moan betrayed exactly how much you liked it. Your whines turned pleading as you quickly adjusted to the intrusion, half brainless with need as you worked to pleasure Ominis the best that you could. The hand he had curled around your disheveled strands of hair moved your head in sync with his hips, giving you a small bit of leeway to angle your neck otherwise if you so chose, but you planned to do no such thing.

“F-Feels so good, darling,” Ominis grit through his teeth, letting his head fall forward as waves of rapture danced down his spine. You made a throaty sound in response, your sucking growing sloppier with Ominis’ rushed bucking, but that was the farthest thing from a problem in his mind. The messy, wet sounds from his cock slipping out of your mouth before you greedily swallowed him down again were fucking addictive.

It was all too easy to let himself be overcome with the sheer euphoria that came with being encased in your mouth, but the incessant, growing fire in his gut was becoming too much to bear. He was getting dangerously close, and he hadn’t spent all that time with his fingers buried in your cunt to ignore it entirely now. So as much as it pained him to, he shook the desire to come from his mind and tugged your head back. You pulled off of his cock with a shaky breath, thick strands of saliva and precome dangling between your lips and the swollen head.

He hardly waited before he was shuffling down your body to give himself the space to start undressing, beginning with the top buttons of his shirt– and if you spent a little too long watching his deft fingers skirt down the row of clasps, he certainly didn’t need to know about it. The shirt fell open, revealing his smooth, pale chest, and he shrugged it off his toned shoulders without looking away from your spot on the bed. It never failed to make your stomach flip– how he always managed to zero in on your presence no matter where you were.

With some impressive side stepping, Ominis shed his trousers and briefs together, kicking the offensive attire away from the edge of the bed so he could crawl back to you undeterred. He felt his way up your body, goosebumps breaking out over your skin in the wake of his fingers, and when he found your lips, he was leaning down to crush his mouth against yours in a heated kiss. He swallowed your mewls and gasps easily while he slid one hand up your raised arms to the rope around your wrists, running his fingers along the edge of the restraints in silent question.

“Leave it for now,” you whispered against his plush lips, and he smirked. “I like this.”

Your voice was still rough from swallowing his cock, and the blond couldn’t help but notice— a spark of arousal shooting through him as he nodded and kissed you again. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, breathing hot against one another as your hearts raced in time and pulled you both away from the desperate precipice you’d been riding.

“You’re shaking, love.” Ominis observed, feeling the small tremors reverberate through your body against his own. His hand trailed back down your arms while the other stayed propped under him, giving him better leverage to lean over you and press a chaste kiss to your temple. “I think you’ve more than made up for everything by now, what about you? Want me to take care of you? Will you be good for me?”

“Yes,” you rasped out, sounding ten different kinds of seductive without even knowing it. Ominis swallowed thickly, tensing when he felt you writhe in place against the mattress, your hips ever so gently brushing against his throbbing cock. “Please Ominis, I’ll be good– I promise– I’ll do whatever you want–”

He silenced you with a suffocating kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth and rendering your brain a useless pile of mush as he splayed his fingers around the curve of your jaw. It left you entirely at his mercy as he practically stole your breath from your lungs, licking and biting at your lips until they were swollen and throbbing, and your nails dug fitfully into your palms in response to the mounting pressure between your legs.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, love. So eager to please,” he whispered against your mouth in-between kisses. “So I’ll fuck you, but you can’t come until I say so. Understood?”

There was a good chance you were about to combust.

You didn’t think you were going to last long with Ominis’ cock inside of you, but if telling him that ran the risk of not getting fucked, you would rather say nothing. Still, your displeasure was voiced in the form of a pained groan, and your frustrated sigh against your boyfriend’s lips dutifully conveyed your feelings on the matter to him.

“Don’t complain. Here I thought you were going to be good for me,” Ominis mused sarcastically, obviously teasing you with the promise of being filled up. “I never did find out… were you behaving earlier?”

Dammit. You couldn’t stop the whine that ripped from your throat as you tried to duck your head out of Ominis’ unrelenting grip, to no avail. His hold on your jaw stayed firm, forcing your eyes to remain glued to him while he unabashedly rolled his cock against the curve of your hip– as though to remind you of his earlier promise.

“You weren’t, were you.” It wasn’t a question. You licked your lips, honestly considering your options when Ominis angled your head to the side to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t you dare lie. If you tell me the truth, I won’t be mean to you.”

Your eyes slid shut, minutely shifting your hips towards the tantalizing feeling of Ominis’ cock pressed against your hip, before you shook your head and choked out a meek, “No.”

“Hm, of course not,” he murmured playfully, biting at the shell of your ear, then your neck, and he moaned softly when you tilted your head further to the side to offer more of yourself to him. “But I already knew that. Better late than never, I suppose.”

In a flash, Ominis had released your face and was sitting back on his heels, gathering your knees together so he could pin them to the side and give himself better access to your ass. Before you could question him, he brought his free hand down and landed a good, echoing slap against the sensitive skin of your rear, leaving you arching helplessly off of the sheets with a wanton moan. With your wrists still bound, all you could do was flail your legs in Ominis’ hold, but his broad hand kept them pressed against the sheets– forcing you to bear the sting for a moment before he was soothing the spot with his warm palm.

“O-Ominis–”

You were cut off as he spanked you again, a shrill cry ripping from your lips as your spine rounded in your feeble attempts to escape, but Ominis held you in place despite your writhing. “Is that enough of a warning? Do you promise to be good?”

“Y-Yes, yes, Ominis, please–”

The pressure on your knees let up as Ominis shifted you back into your original position, only this time he nestled himself between your trembling legs with the heavy head of his cock dragging deliciously over your incredibly slick entrance. He slipped his hand under the crook of one of your knees, bending it back to give himself more room to rock his hips as he said, “I hope so.”

“Please, don’t tease me anymore, Ominis– I can’t take it,” you gasped out your pleas, cracking your bleary eyes open to gaze up at the striking man towering over you. Those luminescent, unseeing eyes of his were seemingly alight behind the messy strands of blond hair that fell forward in his face, and the positively immoral expression he bore had you repeating his name like a broken mantra that filled him with renewed vigor.

Ominis stifled a moan, biting the inside of his cheek as he finally pressed into you, and he let his eyes roll back at the feeling while you groaned with unrestrained contentment. You were fucking beside yourself, your hands twisting fitfully in your restraints as you let out a long, stuttered string of words that didn’t properly form, and by the time Ominis was fully sheathed inside of you, your patience had run out.

“Merlin, Ominis,” your head flew back against the pillows, pathetically rocking your hips back in search of more, because his shallow grinding wasn’t going to begin to cut it. You craved this– you needed to get fucked through the bed, needed for Ominis to rail you like the world was ending– you needed more. “Ominis!”

“F-Fuck, sweetheart,” He wheezed out, hugging your leg to his torso as he panted heavily from how unbelievably tight you were, and how incredible you felt. Part of him wanted to be gentle with you– to roll his hips smoothly and evenly to build you up slowly and perfectly– but Ominis knew what you wanted. Even if he didn’t, you took it upon yourself to educate him with your next breath.

“Ominis, fuck me, please,” you were practically sobbing, rutting down onto his cock with what little movement you could muster on your back. “Come on, fuck me– please just fuck me already– please, please, ah–”

Getting you this worked up took no small amount of effort. Ominis took immense pride in the mess he’d made of you for a brief moment, sighing when you squeezed tighter around his cock and moaned his name again. “You sound so fucking good, love,” he hummed, giving you a slow little grind that left you overcome with urgency. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

Before you even had time to moan in response, Ominis was readjusting his grip on your leg, shifting the one still against the sheets further to the side so he had more room at his disposal when he pulled back and fucking rammed his cock back into you.

He didn’t waste any time in keeping up this way, either.

You were utterly delirious.

Ominis fucked you so hard and so fast, it seemed like it shouldn’t even be possible. The slap of his hips against your ass reverberated loudly off the stone walls of the bedroom, but it was overshadowed completely by how loud you were screaming.

It was everything you’d wanted. Probably more so, because Ominis was fucking railing into you with some insane stamina, breathing loud moans of his own, gasping your name, and you couldn’t even find the brain power to beg for more. Every time he pulled back and left you nearly empty, he was fucking you open again with the force of his cock, jolting you up the bed until you were bracing your bound hands against the headboard and utilizing your newfound leverage to push back onto him.

Ominis allowed you to rut against him for a few thrusts– enough to appreciate the lush sound of your ass bouncing against his hips– until the urge to take you over completely filled him. He moaned then, the noise low and savage, and he moved so that he was leaning over you with the knee he’d been holding flung haphazardly over his shoulder. Pressing into you further, you gave a whimpered protest at having your efforts cut short, but Ominis ignored you entirely in favor of spreading you wider to accommodate his larger frame.

With you pinned beneath him in complete possession, Ominis wasted little time in fucking you harder, faster– his long thrusts switching to deep, hammering ruts that drove the head of his cock clean past your sweet spot so intensely that it damn near knocked you out.

If you could use words at all, you would have tried to warn Ominis that you were about to come. There was no fucking way you couldn’t. You were so full of his cock, your throat raw from screaming, and you were being held down and fucked like you were merely a toy with your hands grasping pointlessly at air.

You felt Ominis before you heard him when he loomed over you to groan hot in your ear, his cock reaching deeper and hitting you even better than before, and when you were right there– tense and tight and wailing Ominis’ name over and over– he fucking growled his warning against your temple, and you broke down and sobbed.

“Don’t you dare come.”

Your noisy, brainless pleas fell on deaf ears as your boyfriend continued owning you, never letting up as he kept you pinned to the bed and chased his own pleasure. You were close– so fucking close that you didn’t know what to do with yourself besides cry and hope to whatever Gods existed that Ominis would have mercy on you.

Pulling at the ropes around your wrists frantically, your garbled cries blurred together in a barely intelligible string of ‘please’s at the same time it started to hurt from how long you’d been on the cusp of your climax. Tears streaked down your face, frustration and desperation and too much pleasure twining together with the pain of holding back, and before you could figure out what was happening, Ominis was looping one of his arms under your back. He tugged you so you were arched towards him, your front held flush to his chest as he bent you precariously upwards, all the while maintaining his unrelenting pace.

“Come on, darling, come for me,” Ominis urged you, his hot breath ghosting over your sweat-slick skin and making you shiver with delight for a multitude of reasons. He planted his feet firmly against the bed, bucking his hips up with a precision that left you boneless in his arms while he slammed his cock right into that mind-numbing spot so perfectly, and then you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your orgasm was earth-shattering.

The world seemed to flash a brilliant white around you, making you oblivious to everything in existence but the guttural moans slipping from Ominis above you, and for a good, long minute, your mind simply halted. You were vaguely aware of yourself gasping as he stilled his movements, having the good grace to remain idly in place while his gentle hands willed you to relax.

“I have never heard you scream that loud,” Ominis groaned, sounding equal parts wonderstruck and pained– which probably had everything to do with his still-hard cock twitching inside of you. He gingerly lowered your prone body down onto the mattress, relishing in the weak, fucked out whimper the action pulled from you. “Are you alright?”

You tried saying yes, but it came out sounding more like a croak than a reassurance. Ominis chuckled darkly, sliding his hands down to your hips as though he were about to pull out, but your shaky legs wrapping around his slender waist stopped him in his tracks, and the movement had him choking on your name as he pressed down to hold you still.

“You want me to keep going?” Ominis asked, his voice incredibly tight and strained from the way your pulsing walls squeezed around his cock again.

This time, you managed to get your tongue to obey your brain and formulate a full sentence. “Y-Yeah, please Ominis. I want you to fill me up, please keep going.”

Ominis’ head fell forward, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist for a modicum of restraint. The tone of your voice was seriously doing him in, as was the way you seemed to suck him in deeper with your legs. “You have to tell me if it’s too much.”

You made a tiny sound of agreement before melting back into the mattress as Ominis’ hand slid up your thigh, lingering for a moment on the tiny scar you’d failed to heal earlier. He said nothing of it though, instead leaning down to kiss you hungrily before taking advantage of your legs coiled around his back, rocking into your tight heat once again.

The stark contrast between his earlier pace and his current one was almost dizzying. Ominis’ possessive snarls gave way to worshiping moans, and the hands that had previously pinned you down now reverently trailed up your torso to lovingly run his fingers up your chest, then your neck, and finally over your tear stained cheeks. It felt incredible; his cock moved so perfectly inside of you while his hands pressed and soothed whatever part of your body they could make contact with, but his restraint was still there. He had to be going insane– you’d been at this for an eternity, and he still hadn’t gotten to come yet. If his strained moans and trembling hips were any indication, he was holding back big time.

“Ominis,” you murmured, forcing him into you harder with your legs, and the drawn out groan he let slip reflected his need all too well. “Come on, Ominis, please. I can take it.”

“Fuck–” he blurted, his tempo faltering for a second before he braced one of his hands beside your head to once again pull nearly all the way out. When he snapped his hips forward again, he filled you with a hard thrust and ground into you so fiercely, the friction against your clit made your spine round off the bed with a keening moan.

His gentle, easy pace fell away– his breath fanning warmly against your cheek as he kept up his firm, grinding thrusts. By some impossible miracle, you felt a familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach, your pleasure being drawn out of you for the second time all too easily. You were still overwhelmingly sensitive from earlier, and it allowed you to feel everything Ominis gave you even more vehemently.

Ominis elected to drop his hand from your cheek down to your clit, rubbing tight, titillating circles over the nub as he continued spreading you open on his cock, and your scratchy voice filled the room as you threw your head back to wail for him. It felt too good– too perfect. You didn’t even know such euphoria existed, much less that your boyfriend could bestow it upon you so thoroughly.

“Gods, I can feel you– are you close again?” Ominis buried his face in your neck to whine against your sweaty skin, barely maintaining his rhythm any longer– just desperate to feel you around him. “I’m so close– fuck.”

“Yes, yes,” you croaked, wanting so badly to wrap your arms around his shoulders and curl around him like a second skin, but the rope around your wrists denied you, and your arms ached from the position they’d been left in for so long. “Me too– please Ominis, please– me too.” You threw your head back with a gasping cry as Ominis bucked harder into you, his hands grabbing and pulling at you as your combined sounds spiked higher and louder the closer you got.

When Ominis finally came, he sank his teeth into the marred expanse of your shoulder, biting down to stifle the string of curses that threatened to spill from his mouth. The sharp pain intermingled with the burning pleasure between your legs, and that was as much as you could bear before you were falling over the edge with him.

Ominis’ body tensed, his hips grinding into you as you twitched and gasped under him, and the rich feeling of him emptying deep inside brought you to new heights you’d never experienced before. He spent an ample amount of time just whimpering against your pulse, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight to him. His lips parted on a soft moan when you held him back best you could using your legs, and he brought one hand out from under you to follow your shaky arms up to the headboard. You felt a telling tug on the rope around your wrists, and in a heartbeat Ominis had expertly undone the knot that tied you to the bedframe.

As much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him, the appendages were practically useless. You felt pins and needles dancing down your shoulders, which didn’t do anything to help with your hyper-sensitivity. But all in all, you’d never felt so satisfied in your fucking life, and you turned your head to press your lips against Ominis’ messy head of hair graciously.

He shuddered at the feeling, lifting his head to gaze affectionately in the direction of your soft breathing. “Are you alright, love?”

You hummed contentedly and nodded, flinching ever so slightly when you felt Ominis slide out of your overstimulated walls. He bent down to claim your lips in a heated kiss, chasing away any lingering tension in your body as he ran his hands down your sides dotingly.

“You were so good for me, darling… so well behaved. You sounded so pretty falling apart on my cock,” he whispered his praises against your mouth, making you whimper, and you felt his expression twist into a smug smirk against your parted lips. “No more secrets, though. The next time you want me to fuck you senseless, you need only ask.”

You agreed embarrassingly fast, vowing to forever voice every last whisper that crossed your mind from this moment forth. Especially if it meant garnering treatment like this more often. What other sinful secrets was Ominis hiding from you?

As sore and achy as you were, a very big, very shameless part of you seriously couldn’t wait to find out.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x female! reader #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt oneshot #dominis #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #my writing #longest and most depraved thing I've written thus far to be completely blunt #I'll see myself out now

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a-little-unsteddie · 5 months

Text

stuck in your throat || 1.1

[here] | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5

ah hello hello :) i have finished chapter two and started into chapter three so i’m comfortable with starting to post the first chapter. idk how many parts each chapter will be, but after i finish posting all of each chapter, i will post the entire chapter on ao3.

i’ll be posting each chapter after i finish another one, so i’ll post chapter two after i finish writing chapter 3, so i always am one chapter ahead :)

this started because @/lexirosewrites followed me ages ago and i was possessed to write an omegaverse fic because of it, as a gift :D hope you enjoy <3

anyway, i think i’ve probably gone on a bit too long now, so enjoy chapter one, part one of stuck in your throat! it’s a bit short, but the next one is like almost 2k so i think it’ll even out :b

Steve sighed as he stared blearily at the screen in front of him, meticulously scanning his resume for what could have been the hundredth time. He needed it to be absolutely perfect before he sent it to any potential employers. He knew he didn’t have the most experience, given that the entirety of his knowledge of nannying came in the form of babysitting Dustin and his friends. Steve hardly counted that, considering the pups were almost all high school age at the time. Even if they were a bit much to deal with at the best of times.

Steve hoped that the fact he went to school to get his teaching license would make him stand out as a candidate.

“You’ve made it as perfect as you can.” Robin said from behind Steve, causing the omega to startle.

“Jesus, wear a bell or something.” he muttered with a grumpy glare in the alpha’s direction. He looked back at his laptop screen and sighed deeply. “No one’s gonna hire some washed up omega,” he threw his arms over his face, speaking with a whine. Robin plopped on their couch next to him and peered at the laptop screen curiously. She took it off Steve’s lap while ignoring his half-hearted protests. She scanned over it with a hum.

“You’re right,” she said with a firm nod, “no one wants to hire some washed up omega.” Steve gaped at her in shock and hurt, until Robin continued. “Good thing you’re applying, so they don’t have to!”

Steve scrunched his face up at her, sticking his tongue out. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, ho ho ho!” Robin said, squinting at the screen with a grin. “Looks like someone’s hiring a fulltime nanny and tutor!” she skimmed over the job ad and nodded firmly. “Apparently you’ll have to sign NDAs to work for them.” her eyes widened as she continued reading the advert. “And traveling? Sounds like exactly what you need. I’m sending your application to them.”

“What? Rob, no! I’m not done with my resum—” Steve scrambled to take the laptop from her.

“Too late!” Robin said, allowing the omega to take the laptop back.

“Robbie!” Steve whined, looking at the ‘thank you for your application!’ message that had popped up on the screen.

“What? You’ve been staring at your resume for like, six hours! It’s almost two in the morning!” she justified, feeling no remorse for pushing her friend to apply somewhere. “You weren’t going to do it, so I had to take matters into my own hands.”

Steve huffed and glared at her for a moment longer before looking at where she sent the application to. “Robbie, this looks like a perfect way to get trafficked,” he said flatly. “I mean, what kind of employer requires an NDA to be signed before they tell you who you’re working for?”

Robin shrugged, then leaned over and scrolled down to point out how much he could potentially make. “I dunno, but I’ll be with you every step of the way because that amount of money…” she whistled, flopping back into the couch.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Any place that requires an NDA probably won’t hire me, Robs. I’ve got no experience.”

“Yet!” Robin insisted, frowning at Steve. “No experience doesn’t mean you’re bad at it!”

“I could be! I don’t know!”

“You won’t be, dingus. Any pup will be better off if you’re their nanny.” Robin said in a rare moment of sincerity. Steve sighed and rolled his eyes fondly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, but no less sincere. “Now help me pick a few other places to apply to.” he grumbled, knowing that Robin was right.

Someone would hire him, it was only a matter of time.

follow the tag #stuck in your throat or #siyt 🎤 to get notified when i post an update. i might do a tag list, but i make no promises because that seems stressful. i’ll only tag 18+ blogs, so either verify in the tags you’re 18+ or have it in your bio.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson (eventually)#eventual steddie #steve x eddie #stuck in your throat #siyt 🎤#tw omegaverse #tw a/b/o #unsteddie writing

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clxja16 · 1 year

Text

Since Day One

Part Three

Arthur Leclerc X Reader

Genre: childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4K

Author’s Note: okay this is it, I don’t think I’m gonna do a part four. Unless idk if you guys absolutely beg for a part four. But yeah this is it. It is insane how many people like part two and asked for a part three. I was genuinely stunned, idk what to say guys. Thank you so much for showing this so much love. I’m sorry if this doesn’t live up to expectations, i felt like I made you guys wait long enough for it.

Part one, Part two

————————————

Charles and Arthur had to be in Austria before Thursday to prepare for the next race. You were adamant about not going, saying you did not prepare to be away from home for more than a week. That even staying in the UK for the weekend was setting you back in a multitude of things.

“You said you weren’t gonna stay away anymore,” Charles said. As all of them, Charles, Charlotte, Arthur, and Lorenzo, crammed into your hotel room before going to the airport.

“I’m not trying to stay away,” you said, shoving more things into your luggage, as Arthur and Charlotte deliberately unpacked things.

“Then why can’t you come to Austria with the rest of us?” Charles asked, crossing his arms.

“Because I did not plan to be in Austria,” you exclaimed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, but Austria wasn’t in the original plan. “I’ll come to Monza.”

“What is it that you are really rushing back to Monaco for?” Charles looked you dead in the eye.

“It’s not your job, you said you were able to work remotely,” Charlotte deduced.

“It’s not your parents, because they don’t require you to be home like before,” Lorenzo added, he always kept in close contact with your parents.

“It’s not a guy, because you just told me that the last guy fell through when you found out he was a Ferrari fan,” Arthur then added.

“It can’t be money, your job pays you more than enough to travel with us,” Charles said.

“You know, I have no clothes for the rest of the trip, nor a plane ticket to Austria like the rest of you,” you said, trying to give any excuse to not go to Austria, “not to mention I was planning on splurging on a trip for my parents and their anniversary, and I don’t think a last minute trip to Austria will fit in the budget.”

“I’ll cover you for Austria,” Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur said in sync.

“We’ll cover your expenses for Austria y/n, we really want you to be there with us,” Lorenzo said.

“You’re not taking no for an answer huh?” You said, looking at the three Leclercs. All of them shaking their heads. “Let’s go to Austria then,” you sighed in defeat, as all of them cheered.

“Okay good, here is your ticket,” Lorenzo said, pulling the paperwork out of his pocket. You looked at Lorenzo absolutely dumbfounded, “when you showed up for Arthur's sprint race, I knew you would have to come to Austria with us, so I got the ticket then,” Lorenzo revealed.

You took the ticket from Lorenzo, waving it in his face, while saying “normal people don’t do this Lo,” then you looked at the other two brothers, “normal people don’t expect their friends to be able to drop everything and travel to a different country with them.”

Unfortunately for you, Lorenzo couldn’t get you on the same flight as the rest of them. You were leaving the UK the same day as them, but several hours later. Lorenzo and the rest of them will arrive in Austria, Tuesday afternoon, while you will arrive closer to Tuesday night. You really didn’t mind it all too much. The few hours alone will allow you to gather your thoughts. Or so you thought.

“Y/n,” you heard your name from across the airport. “Y/n,” it was Felipe Drugovich, “that is you.”

“Felipe,” you said, going to hug him, “it’s been a minute.”

“It has, how have you been? Are you coming to the races again?”

You smiled, you weren’t close with Felipe, but the two of you always had a friendly relationship. “I’ve been good, and I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to attend all the races, but I’ll definitely start coming again. What about you though, race winner”

“Only a couple,” Felipe smiled, he was always so humble.

“A couple? You have three feature race wins, and you’ve scored in almost all of the races,” you smiled.

“Not all, and you’ve kept up with us?”

“Just because I’m not attending the races, doesn’t mean I didn’t keep up with them.”

“Just surprised you kept up with F2, there isn’t a Leclerc in F2 at the moment,” Felipe joked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“There doesn’t need to be a Leclerc for me to keep up with something,” you took slight offense.

“I’m just saying the Leclerc princess was only focused on the Leclerc's last season,” Felipe said. You let his statement sit for a moment, and watched as Felipe realized what he called you. His face changed from cocky to shocked.

“The what?”

“You weren’t supposed to know that,” Felipe quickly corrected his mistake.

“Leclerc princess? Who is calling me that?”

Felipe sighed, knowing that he was going to have to explain now. “It was a joke between the F2 guys last season because you were only focused on the Leclercs and you were treated like a Princess by them,” Felipe revealed.

“Please don’t tell me that you guys actually thought that,” you were absolutely shocked. You knew the boys always took care of you at the races but you didn’t think you were being treated like a princess.

“Y/n, it’s fine,” Felipe said, trying to make amends. “Arthur them we’re taking care of their friend, we understand it.”

“I didn’t…”

“I promise we never called you that with malicious intent,” Felipe didn’t know if what he was saying was making the situation better or worse. “It was stupid Robert who started the joke because you rejected him, and Arthur told him off about it. I promise that nickname wasn’t made with vicious ideas.”

“When did Robert try to get with me?” You asked not recalling any moment when Robert tried to ask you out.

“Are you serious?” Felipe didn’t know what to say, everyone knew about Robert trying to get with you. “In Monaco, Robert asked if you wanted to get dinner after the race. You said that you had dinner plans with the Leclerc family and you would text him about getting dessert together, then you never texted him or spoke to him again. Then Arthur told Robert to stop bothering you.”

“I, I didn’t know he meant like a date. I actually had dinner plans already that night, Auntie Pa made food and Arthur kept bugging me that night, I must’ve completely forgotten about Robert.” You slapped your hands against your face, completely dumbfounded that you had forgotten about Robert. “I promise I never told Arthur to say anything.”

Felipe did nothing of the sorts to help you, just laughing at your recount of events. “It’s fine y/n, Robert has gotten over it, and Arthur wasn’t mean, he just told Robert to back off a little.”

“I feel terrible,” you said, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to apologize to Robert.

“Don’t even worry about it, princess,” Felipe teased further, causing you to blush further from embarrassment.

After checking into the hotel, and getting all of his stuff into the room, Arthur headed back to the airport to pick you up. He adamantly volunteered to pick you up, instead of sending a Uber for you, because he wanted a few minutes of you to himself. The drive from the airport to the hotel wasn't long but Arthur insisted he pick you up and he insisted on picking you up by himself.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Charles asked again.

“I’m sure, I’m just driving to the airport and back, I’ll be fine,” Arthur insisted.

“Text us when you got her,” Lorenzo said, before the two started back into the hotel.

Arthur wanted a few minutes alone with you because he didn’t want either of his brothers to be revealing any more information. When Lorenzo said ‘Arthur has a crush on you’ to you, Arthur felt his heart drop. He didn’t want you to reject him in front of his brothers. That would have been too much embarrassment for him. Instead you just said, ‘we’ll talk about it later, yeah?’ To which Arthur nodded, he had hoped that the drive back would be the perfect time to talk about it.

When Arthur got to the airport, he was still early, so he found a spot to park, and headed towards baggage claim to wait for you. He found you easily, you were talking to someone. As he made his way closer he noticed you were talking to Felipe. Felipe then grabbed your bag from the belt, while saying something that made you laugh. Arthur felt his heart stop for a moment, what did Felipe say to make you laugh like that? Was all he could think.

“I think your ride is here,” Felipe said, you followed his gaze to see Arthur standing there arms crossed. The sight of Arthur waiting for you, causing your smile to grow. You and Felipe end up being on the same flight, sitting right next to each other. “Still the Leclerc princess I see.”

“Shut up Felipe,” you blushed at the nickname that Felipe has been continually calling you the entire flight. “I’ll see you at the track,” you said, as you began to walk towards Arthur.

“See you then princess,” Felipe said, causing you to turn more red, blushing brighter. You were shaking your head at the nickname.

As you walked towards Arthur, you felt your smile get bigger. You tried to stop yourself from smiling, but you couldn’t contain it. You had to repeatedly remind yourself that Arthur still has a girlfriend. “Hi,” you said to Arthur.

Arthur hummed in acknowledgement, taking your bags from you. It wasn’t like him to be this silent. “Everything okay?” You asked.

“Didn’t know Felipe was on your flight,” Arthur huffed out, his tone causing you to stifle your giggle.

“Are you jealous Arthur?” You asked, beginning to tease. “Are you jealous that me and Felipe were on the same flight together, and sitting, and talking together the entire flight?” The opportunity to tease Arthur, has been few and far between in your friendship with him. Being around Charles and Lorenzo his entirely life, had built Arthur up. There was nothing that you could say that would bug him. So whenever you did find something to tease him about, you would take it and run.

Arthur didn’t give any answer to your teasing, silently putting your bags into the car. Arthur didn’t respond because he was actually jealous. Why did Felipe get to be with you and not him? Why did it have to be Felipe? Couldn’t it have been someone, anyone else next to you. When Lorenzo told Arthur, he bought you a plane ticket to Austria. Arthur begged Lorenzo to change his flight to be with you. Why did Felipe get to be on your flight and not him?

You teased Arthur the entire car ride to the hotel, when you finally pulled up to the front. Arthur put the car in park for the valet boys. However before you could open the door to get out, Arthur locked the doors, stopping you. You looked back at him slightly confused, and all Arthur said was “yes I am jealous.” He then unlocked the doors and got out before you.

You rushed out after Arthur, to see him already grabbing your bags. “Arthur,” you said to grab his attention. Arthur instead of answering you, turned to hand over the keys to the valet. He then walked past you carrying your bags. You followed after him, “you shouldn’t be jealous,” you said just loud enough for him to hear. Arthur didn’t say anything, continuing to remain silent, “after all Felipe isn’t the one I’m rooting for during the races, nor is he the person that I’m gonna be with this weekend.” You watched as your words curved a smirk onto Arthur’s face.

Arthur had brought you up to the room, “so mine and Lorenzo’s room is just a couple doors over, and Charles and Charlotte’s room is a few more doors down.”

“We’re all on one floor?” You asked as you began to unpack your limited clothing.

“Lorenzo booked all the rooms together, so they put it all on one floor,” Arthur said, trying to find the courage to continue the conversation. “Y/n, don’t you think we should talk?”

“Talk?” You knew exactly what Arthur meant, but you were hoping to avoid the conversation just a little longer, in hopes that maybe your feelings for him would go away in a few hours. “Talk about what?” You didn’t meet Arthur’s gaze, because you knew the moment you looked into his eyes, you would fold.

Arthur grabbed your arm, pulling you away from your luggage, “you know what we need to talk about.”

When you looked up at Arthur, his eyes looking hurt, “don’t you have a girlfriend.” You watched as Arthur’s face changed, first being confused, then realization.

“No,” Arthur said with relief, “I forgot to tell you, we broke up.”

“Arthur did you actually break up,” you turned back to your own unpacking, “you and her are always going on breaks and getting back together…”

“I promise,” Arthur said, jumping onto your bed to look at you, “we’re done, for real this time.”

You looked at home suspiciously not really believing it, “well just because you broke up with her, doesn’t mean you and I are just gonna become a thing.”

“Why not?” Arthur sat up confused.

“Because you know how bad that will look, that you just left your girlfriend and started dating someone new. Everyone will think you only left her because of me.”

“What does it matter what anyone else thinks?” Arthur asked, as he got off the bed, coming towards you. Taking your face in his hands.

“Arthur,” you spoke softly, pulling his hands away from your face, “it matters the most. I…”. You paused, unsure how to admit your feelings about the situation. “I love you Arthur, I will always love you, but…”

“But what?” And all over, Arthur became unable to read. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Maybe,” you pulled away completely, turning your back on Arthur, “I shouldn’t have come to Austria.”

“Fuck y/n,” Arthur shouted out, “what are you talking about not coming to Austria?” You turned back to look at Arthur, who was red in the face, “you said,” Arthur pointed his finger at you, his words laced with venom, “you weren’t gonna stay away and now that I tell you how I feel, you’re just gonna run away.”

“That’s not,” you started to shake your head viciously, “that’s not what I meant Arthur, I…”

“Then what is it?” Arthur shouted once more, “you say you love me, you said you weren’t gonna stay away but now you don’t want to be here with us, with me.”

“Arthur please,” you felt the tears rolling down your face. Arthur has never yelled at you before like he’s doing at this moment. “Stop yelling at me,” your words were whispers, that fell on deaf ears.

“I am in love with you y/n, and I have spent years thinking I will always be second to Charles,”

“You’re not second,” you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak louder. “Arthur, I am in love with you.”

“Then why don’t you want to be here, with me?” You could finally see the tears welled in Arthur’s eyes.

“I can’t,” you broke down in full sobs, “I can’t take your fans.” His fans, “I can’t take the constant bashing from people that don’t know me, I ran away because I couldn’t take it. I am weak and I am ashamed,” you wiped away your tears, staring at the floor instead of Arthur, “and I just can’t handle it like you or Charles or Charlotte, I want to.” You looked up back at Arthur, his features had softened, “I wish I could do it Arthur, I do. I want to be at every race, under every podium, to be with you, always, but I don’t think I can, I’m sorry.”

Arthur wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer than ever before. You began to sob, feeling ashamed that little comments from strangers messed you up this bad. You buried your face deeper into Arthur’s chest, feeling safety in his arms.

“Where is y/n?” Lorenzo asked Arthur, as he was in the middle of training.

“Not sure,” Arthur shrugged, as he continued on unbothered. Lorenzo looked a little confused, because Arthur was the one that took your absences the hardest among the three of them. Why wouldn’t he take it the hardest though?

Just a few moments later, Charles joined Arthur and Lorenzo. Whenever their, Charles and Arthur’s, race weekends aligned together, the two would train together to prepare for a race. “Where’s y/n?” Charles asked, as he scanned the room, thinking he would see you tucked away in a corner. Arthur, not verbally acknowledging the question, shrugged.

Now it was Charles’ turn to be confused. Charles missed having you around very much, and it meant a lot to him that you were there in Silverstone. However Charles knew it meant more to Arthur that you were there, than it did to him. Charles exchanged a look with Lorenzo, to which Lorenzo just shook his head and shrugged as well.

“She’s gonna be at the races though, right?” Charles tried to ask nonchalantly.

“She said she would be,” Arthur answered, even more nonchalant. Charles and Lorenzo exchanged another look, trying to determine if you and Arthur got into a fight or what.

You currently sat at lunch with Charlotte, while the boys were doing their training.

“So, did you and Arthur talk?” Charlotte asked, after your waiter dropped the appetizers.

“We did,” you smirked thinking back to your conversation with Arthur.

“Your smirk indicates it went well,” Charlotte's eyes widened in anticipation.

“Well,” you paused thinking further about the entire conversation, “it ended well.”

“Ended well? It started off bad?” Charlotte let out a little chuckle.

“Yeah,” you laughed out, “Arthur mentioned he broke up with his girlfriend.”

“Oh, but that was a long time coming already,'' Charlotte reasoned, as she began to pick away at the appetizers.

“I know that, I just didn’t want Arthur to think that just because he broke up with his girlfriend. I would just jump into a relationship with him. Not to mention how that would look.”

“So you and him are not together then?”

“Umm no, yes,” you chuckled some more.

“What happened in that hotel room?” Charlotte laughed, trying to understand what the two of you talked about. “Something not innocent?” Charlotte eyebrows raised, as she giggled some more.

“No no, nothing like that,” you quickly corrected with a laugh. “We just talked, talked about a lot of things. Tried to make him understand what I felt.”

“That’s good,” Charlotte reasoned, “you definitely need to communicate more.”

“Me and Arthur are going to try being in a relationship together, slowly though and privately.” You began to blush at the thought of Arthur and you, together.

“That’s very good,” Charlotte smiled, she smiled a proud smile at you. In a way, Charlotte felt relieved, she would never admit it though. Charlotte knew that Charles will always feel some type of love for you, but Charles would never betray his brothers. A very small part of Charlotte will forever be jealous, and worried about your relationship with Charles, however now you being with Arthur she can rest a little easier at night.

“I don’t know if Arthur told his brothers yet though”

“Why wouldn’t he tell them?” Charlotte asked, slightly confused. The three of them were three peas in a pod, always telling each other everything. Charles and Lorenzo would be the first people on Arthur list to tell anything to.

“I don’t know, when I told Arthur I wanted a more private relationship, he was fine with that, but he insisted on being the one to tell his brothers,” you said with a shrug, not really understanding Arthur’s reasoning.

“Well Charles knows nothing, when I told him about lunch today, he told me to figure out what’s going on between you and Arthur.” Charlotte said with a giggle, recalling Charles' words from this morning.

Later that night, after all the marketing duties, training, and media request, did Arthur finally return to the hotel. Lorenzo had told Arthur that he would be having dinner with some people about Arthur’s future, and that he wouldn’t return until later. Arthur made quick work of showering and getting into a comfy outfit, before leaving his hotel room, and going up a couple doors to your hotel room.

As soon as the first knock came, you opened the door for Arthur sporting the biggest smile you could manage. “Hi,” you smiled more, that Arthur could only chuckle at you.

“Hi,” Arthur smiled, back before walking into your room. “Miss me?”

“Always,” you said, as you pecked Arthur’s lips. Arthur wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer that every part of your body touched his, as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You know, I love coming home to you,” Arthur whispered against your lips, before planting another small kiss against them.

“This isn’t home though, this is a hotel,” you smirked.

“Home is wherever you are.”

That night as you cuddled closer to Arthur, the two of you lay in the middle of the bed. Watching whatever movie sounded funny.

“You know,” you started off, thinking about everything you and Arthur talked about today, “when I said going slow with our relationship and keeping things private, I didn’t mean not telling your brothers.”

“I know,” Arthur smirked, “but I want them to sweat a little, they currently think we’re fighting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows looking at Arthur, “how do you know they think we’re fighting? Why do they think we’re fighting?”

“Because I know them, and I know they won’t ask directly what’s going on, they’re just gonna wait until I tell them”

“Are you punishing them for exposing you a few days ago?”

“Maybe,” Arthur chuckled, looking down at you cuddled into his side. “They deserve it, either way.”

You cuddled closer to Arthur, trying to soak up as much heat that was emitting off of him, as possible. “Thank you for respecting my wishes to keep our relationship private for now.” Ou spoke softly into Arthur’s chest, instead of to him.

You could feel the vibration from Arthur’s chuckle, “I’d do anything for you, anything to keep you by my side.”

After your initial disagreement with Arthur, the two of you talked more about the situation in Amsterdam last year. You talked about how the fans made you feel, how you thought staying away would be best for everyone, why you thought that as well. You made sure Arthur understood your viewpoint on the entire situation. Especially that you no longer felt safe being around any of them, because you thought whenever you were with them, you were on display for the world to judge.

Arthur spoke of how you made him feel, his disagreement with Charles, and just exactly how your interactions, although not meant to hurt him, did. Arthur made sure that you understood how he felt. He felt like you were staying away because that would be easier for Charles. Arthur thought that you cared more about how Charles felt rather than how he felt.

After the two of you talked extensively, did you guys begin to discuss your relationship. You finally admitted to having romantic feelings for Arthur, and that you wanted to be with him. Arthur admitted to always being in love with you, and just forever thinking that you loved Charles more than him. The two of you agreed that you would be in a relationship with each other, but that it would go slowly, and privately. Arthur was gonna do everything in his power to ensure you felt safe being around him. That you were no longer on display for the world to critique, that you were just the girl he’s in love with. And you had never been so in love.

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tillyalf427 · 2 months

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Verlaine+Rimbaud x reader nsfw headcannons 18+

Notes : so I read through literally every verlaine and rimbaud x reader on here AGAIN last night and there's not nearly enough out there so uhhh...here have this 😂

Please read the warnings, I'm not 100% sure how tagging works on Tumblr anymore so read at your own discretion, most warnings are only brief but I thought I'd include them anyway!

Warnings: nsfw, bondage, choking, soft dom Verlaine, oral sex, praise kink, hickeys, fingering, riding, vaginal sex, sadism, edging, oral fixation, blowjobs, threesome, female terms used for reader

- Okay but soft dom Verlaine who loves the thought of the amount of control he has over both himself and the reader.

- So like when he's asked to choke them he loves how much control and precision is needed to use the right amount of pressure and not take things too far

It reminds him of his job as that also requires precise skills.

- Or when he ties you up with ropes criss-crossing over your skin, the process of tugging you to your knees by the ropes wound around your arms sends a jolt of electricity through his skin

- Let him hold onto your arms where they're bound behind your back whilst he fucks you and he'll go absolutely feral.

- Isn't a fan of gags because he wants to hear you and hear how much you're enjoying it, how else would he know when he's doing a good job?

- He needs validation!! Whether it's in the form of you moaning, or the garbled words that escape your mouth, he doesn't mind

- Potential praise kink anyone?

- Please he needs all the love in the world, tell him he's your good boy

- His favourite place to leave marks is probably your neck, he loves it when you can't hide them underneath your clothes, call him possessive if you must

- Likes to bite across your collar bones because he thinks they're pretty

- Isn't all that confident with eating you out or stretching you open because he's always afraid of hurting you

- But if you want him to he's more than happy to let you ride his face

- And fucking yourself onto his fingers drives him absolutely wild

- It gives him the little ego boost he needs to start scissoring his fingers, eventually slipping a third finger inside you before continuing where he left off

- Most the time he would be fairly quiet however, most often he would let out small grunts and quiet moans in between heavy breaths

-And sadist Rimbaud who loves nothing more than to tease and torture you until you're begging him to do anything.

- This man eats pussy like it's his job

- He'll happily spend hours edging you with both his tongue and his fingers, stretching you open slowly with a lazy smile.

- Pull his hair a little and he will lose it

- Rimbaud with an oral fixation anyone?

- Anyway

- His favourite place to leave marks is your thighs and hips, he loves to see the red marks blooming on your inner thighs and seeing the way his hand marks wrap around your hips.

-He probably has pretty long fingers which he uses to his advantage to tease and finger you

-Loves to watch you riding him, seeing the way your thighs tremble from the effort and the pleasure

- Every now and then he rolls his hips up as well just to see you gasp and tremble

- Try not to flinch when his cold fingers trail across your skin otherwise he'd take full advantage and finger you when his hands are freezing cold, watching you arch away from the strange sensation as your warmth surrounded his fingers.

- He would always end up flushed so pretty, pale skin warming up to a bright blush that travelled down his neck.

- His hair contrasts against it so nicely, falling around you and tickling with every movement.

And the pair of them together? Well...good luck 🤣

- Verlaine would hold you down against his chest whilst Rimbaud went to town with his tongue against your pussy

- Not only that but he would 100% use his ability, increasing the pressure of gravity on you until you could barely even wriggle.

- Both would make it their life's mission to cover you in marks, hickeys, bite marks, everything

- Nothing riles either of them up more than seeing finger shaped marks pressed into your hips when you're getting changed or when there's a mark too high on your neck for you to hide.

- Picture Verlaine tying Rimbaud's hands to the headboard, teasing him until you get home before encouraging you to sink down on Rimbaud's dick, riding him as he fell apart beneath you.

- Verlaine would tease Rimbaud's mouth, pressing his dick down his throat as you bounced on his cock.

- Or Rimbaud ordering Verlaine to fuck you whilst he sits and watches, cock in his hand and praises rolling off his tongue.

- Unless Verlaine happens to come without permission then he'll stand up, fingers tangling in Verlaine's hair to tilt his head back, whispering in his ear with a harsh bite to the skin there.

- He forces Verlaine to eat you out with his own release still dripping out of you.

- Fucking after a mission when you're all wine-drunk and tipsy, making everything sloppy and messy from the lack of coordination between the three of you.

-wet kisses and it's just generally fairly messy as you all tangle together

- And if for whatever reason you have a mission where you have to seduce the target, you may not be able to walk once the three of you get home.

- They both get jealous, irritation itching beneath their skin despite the knowledge that it was only for a mission.

- The sex that night would be rough, all harsh movements, biting and firm hands holding you in place however, once they were done with you, the softness would return.

- Between them they'd help you get cleaned up, running a bath for you and helping to wash the sweat and grime off your body, fingers tangling in damp hair as one of them rubbed shampoo in before taking the shower head to rinse the bubbles out.

- Then once you were dried you'd quickly be bundled up in their arms back in bed, soft words and kisses being passed around

- And if you happen to not be in the mood one day? No worries they'll work it out amongst themselves, giving you the option to watch if you're up for it.

- And quite frankly it's intriguing to watch the dynamic between the two of them on their own just as much as it is to be between the two of them.

- Seeing the way Verlaine submits fully to Rimbaud sends a shock of pleasure through you and uncovers the urge to have Verlaine in that position yourself

- Or seeing how Verlaine pressed Rimbauds legs up against his chest whilst fucking into him filled you with the perfect ideas on how to tease him to completion in the future.

- Overall, the pair of them are probably pretty good to you in bed, they both have strong personalities and motivations so there would likely be occasional times when they clash with each other

- But if they do just tie them both to the headboard with vibrators against their dicks and tease them for hours on end 😉

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i-am-a-lost-girl16 · 8 months

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Eris Week Day 2: High Lord

De-stressing head-canons: Inspired by the prompt by @erisweek2023. Going to give this whole week a go! I tried to do this one as a "x reader" style!

Eris has a few a lot of newfound responsibilities when he takes over as High Lord. Meetings to discuss new court members, talks of heirs, why does a High Lord need to have so much say in the colors of the decorations for the Autumn Equinox?

He leaves every meeting with a headache and there's very few places he can go to find true solace. He knows he can come find you and that you'll set aside your own responsibilities to help him.

He loves your caring nature and some days, when the meetings are particularly long or he's facing the repercussions of something that Beron did and it's now his job to undo or make amends for, he tends to find his way to your side.

Sometimes he'll encourage you to continue with what you're doing, whether it's paperwork, reading, whatever you've occupied your hours with that day and he'll just lay down beside you, putting his head in your lap.

He's like a cat when your hand finds his hair, fingers running through the red locks gently. You know he's a sucker for it and even if what you're doing might require two hands you're willing to sacrifice one for him. Especially when you can feel him relax under your touch, his eyes closed in a moment of peaceful vulnerability not many get to see from him.

You offer to talk about it if he wants to, and sometimes he will, rambling on about what this advisor said and how this person thinks they should do this instead. He's found that talking it out loud to you sometimes offers new solutions that he and his advisors hadn't even thought of. Other times he won't, certain topics are just ones that Eris thinks is better to deal with on his own.

When he can't find you, or truly doesn't think he problems are worth bothering you with, he goes to his hounds.

Some days he will take them out to the woods surrounding your home, letting them run and practicing new commands. Other days he will just sit in the pen with them, lazily tossing a stick into the enclosure and spoiling them slightly. Let's be real this man spoils his hounds rotten whenever he gets the chance.

His hounds are his first babies, the first thing that was entirely his own and not something that his father had control of. It didn't matter what age a hound was, old or young, Eris treated them all with the same level of love and respect. Eris knows that no matter what decision he's made and what the people might think of, his hounds will always be there for him.

You usually find him no matter what and he knows when you're coming because the hounds will turn their attention to you rather than him. They trot to your side, tails wagging happily, as you make your way over to Eris.

He swears you have a sixth sense for when he's in a mood, even when he does his best to not let any of it travel down the bond between you two. But he's always grateful on those long days that he has you to come back to.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra head canons #eris acotar #erisweek2023 #acotar imagine #eris vanserra x reader

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noeou · 2 years

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I CAN’T DIE, I’M ALL IN! —- octavinelle

here are some thoughts are on an office romance you’d have with them. ( think: ‘business proposal’ and ‘what’s wrong with secretary kim?’ )

mention of treating azul like his 'mother' this is 100% g/n, i mean caring for him like one.

[ azul ashengrotto | ceo and private secretary. ]

azul is actually a very straightforward and brutally honest boss. he doesn't believe in overtime; there are work hours for a reason and he refuses to work out of them, which makes your life slightly easier.

no one really knows why he hired you, you had no professional experience and jade was a better candidate than you... actually, it's fair to say that of floyd as well. he hired you on the spot, after a few generic questions. when you asked about it, he shrugged, "you were the most sane candidate." whatever that meant...

when you started it was hell. you learned everything from scratch, as well as having to learn about your colleagues so that your job wouldn't be such a pain. i do mean learning how to bribe them, yes.

working with azul requires a lot of understanding. he can seem like a cold, over the top strict ceo but he just doesn't know any better. he picks up on little habits you have, some of which are just behaviors your average human being has.

after sometime, your coworkers noticed him going out of his way to make your job easier. this can be him preparing his own refreshments, printing his own paper, or picking up weekly reports himself. everyone thinks the reason is that the company is going bankrupt, which isn't true of course.

whenever you attend parties, you have matching outfits. sometimes your relationship gets misread as romantic, which he denies immediately. it's rare though considering you act like his mother...

he doesn't drink as much as you'd think he would. azul refuses to drive if he had at least one drink, he always calls you to pick him up. he'd prefer you don't hear the dumb things he might say when you drive him home, so again, he doesn't drink that much.

[ jade leech | traveling secretary and training secretary ]

jade is more like azul's oversea representative than secretary. he made the job seem easier than it is, and he often took responsibility for your mistakes. it wasn't hard for you to start trusting and respecting him.

you don't get to see him often because of his position so you held the month of training and working closely together close to you. when he does visit he always invites you to dinner and listens to all you rants about your job, knowing first hand how hard it can be.

he often buys you gifts from abroad, with little notes about his travels. he also writes often, yes on paper. they often include little tips and advice he learned through the years that he forgot to mention before.

after awhile of this, you started seeing him more often. (little did you know this was at his request.) and you'd switch places, quite often. think supporting one another's weaknesses, but jade has none.

he also started attending work parties because of you, the heads of departments noticed this, but no one brought it up. they'd often set up after work parties and then they'd all bail last minute so you can both be alone.

jade would often pick you up and drop you off at azul's so you would be able to catch up on lost rest on the drive; maybe he took the long way to your apartment, maybe not.

[ floyd leech | lead of the heads of departments and employee ]

you met on a blind date but you didn't know who he was. the date went well, he found you to be quite curious with your bold personality. something he wasn't used, given his line of work.

when people found about your relationship, many were less than pleased. this was unknown to the higher ups though. including floyd.

your work started piling up (an attempt to separate the two of you) and one time; floyd happened to find you asleep, using your papers as pillows on your desk. taking off his suit and resting it over as a blanket, he happened to see your phone light up.

he caught a glimpse of your friend's concerned messages and soon he pieced two and two together.

best believe it was dealt with. along with a proposal, that in the long run, would benefit the both of you.

take that as you will.

#twst fluff #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst wonderland #twst imagines #disney twst #octavinelle #octavinelle x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #jade x reader #jade leech #floyd x reader #floyd leech

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rbbrbikerthorp · 1 year

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From Work Stressed to Smoking Skinhead

[Initially, I’d intended this to be a one-off story, but the set-up has taken so long that there’s going to have to be a second part. Enjoy!]

I’m Gaz, I’m 31. I’m a skinhead. In the picture you can see what I look like, now that my new m8s have transformed me, and have made me unrecognisable from the person I once was.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Before I forget who I was, let me tell you about how I came to be here. I had a job that some would describe as being a stressful way to earn a living. I was one of those office drones who chased figures every month. As part of my job, I was required to travel, often several times a week; this could be to London, Birmingham, Edinburgh, or where-ever our customers were based. In preference to sitting in traffic on the motorway, taking the train was the stress-free way to travel. It meant I could use the time to check reports or presentations and, on the way, home I’d catch up on any emails that needed dealing with.

So, this one day when my life changed forever, I had a table seat booked on the 6:40am to London, but when I looked at the departure board and saw the word every traveller dreads, ‘cancelled’ was posted against my train. So like dozens of other passengers heading for the capital on that day I was told to catch the next train. When I climbed on board, I realised the train was already very crowded. I’d struggle to get any seat, let alone find a table seat. I walked through three carriages, but there was no empty seats. Just as I was about to accept that I’d be standing in the vestibule, I heard, “Oi, fella...” a voice. Was that aimed at me?

I turned around. “Here fella, the window seat is free”. So, he was talking to me. I was so grateful for the offer of the seat that, other than his shaved head, (which is normal for many guys these days), At this point I hadn’t taken much notice of him. I thanked the shaved headed guy then I got my laptop out of my bag, which I put up on the luggage rack. Then I took off my jacket hung it on the peg next to the window and plonked myself down in the seat. Very quickly I was lost catching up on a report I needed to finish.

As soon as the train departed, I heard the familiar sound of cans being opened and the familiar smell of beer, which wasn’t that appealing at this time of day. “You look really stressed mate. You should have one of these.”

I looked up watch, it was just after seven in the morning, “er, what?” I asked. It was then that I realised I was looking at a guy with a completely shaved head, wearing what I thought was a black polo shirt and green kind of bomber jacket.

“You heard. Do yer want a can, a beer?” it was a different voice. I looked up from my screen to see another guy with a shaved head. He was holding out a can of beer, one I didn’t recognise. “I’m Sam by the way.” That’s Billy already ‘on the pop’, and this”, pointing at a slightly older looking guy in the other aisle seat, “is Jimmy.”

“Oh, no thanks. I should have been on the earlier train, but it got cancelled. I didn’t think I’d get a seat on this train because it’s so busy. I’ve got a meeting that starts at 9:30 and I’ve got a report to prepare for it.”

Jimmy quickly chirped in, “Come on”, pulling the ring-pull, “that’s over two hours from now, here.” He grabbed my hand and gave me the can.

“No, honestly, it’s very kind of you, but I’ve...”

Sam interrupted, and I looked over at him. “Listen, I can see how stressed you are right now. I can see the sweat on yer top lip. You need to relax or yer gonna blow a fuse. I bet you’ll be talking bollocks all day in the hope of closin’ a sale or summit’. Chill m8, you can surely spare a few minutes to have a beer. And it would show us how much you appreciate us giving you the seat. Now, you know our names, tell us yours.”

Reluctantly, but out of politeness, I accepted the can. and said “Cheers. I’m Gareth by the way, Gareth Fairburn” Not really sure why I included my surname. They all looked at me as I took my first swig of the beer, and coughed “Wow, that’s got a kick.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it after a few swigs”, said Billy. “I fact I’m pretty sure it’ll be your drink of choice when we’re done with you.”

“You know this is very nice of you...” I said, about to get back to working my report. But before I could look down, I saw Jimmy’s hand reach across and shut the lid on my laptop. I could see letters on the knuckles and there was a bird tattoo on the back of his hand. “C’mon fella, put your work stress aside for a bit and have a natter with us while you sup your beer.”

Jimmy read me like a book, I was stressed. I was on my way to see a key customer; one that knew how important they were to the business I worked for and would make me jump through hoops to get the contract renewed. I knew I had to finish the report because I’d promised to email it ahead of my meeting. I was thinking about looking for another seat, when Jimmy coughed to get my attention. I looked up at him; He had that rough but good-looking appearance. Until then, I hadn’t noticed the ink on his neck, it looked like some ancient design but I couldn’t really see it properly. It was the first time I noticed the rings in his ears too. He grinned at me. I watched him swig his beer from the can. At that point I knew wasn’t heading off to a stressful meeting. He wouldn’t be selling his soul to get a contract renewed.

Jimmy leaned forward and I could smell his smokey breath. “Right, let me tell you how it’s going to be Gaz, my boi. We’ll take your stress away, but before we can help you need to tell us about who you are and what you do. Got it?”

Billy belched several times, The belches were so loud and the other people looked up from their laptops and tablets to see where the sound was . He slammed his empty can of beer down on the table in front of me. “So m8 what do you do?”

My heart was pounding; yet suddenly, I felt that a weight lifted from my shoulders. These guys had shown an interest in me. No one normally did that, not my boss, not my customers, not my family. They wanted to help with my stress. So, I took another swig from the can - I wondered whether people really like this taste? Anyway, I began telling them was a commercial development manager.

“You in sales then Gaz?” Billy interrupted.

“I guess you could put it that way,” I replied

“Keep drinking mate, it’ll help yer stress go away for now.” I did as I was told and took another swig from the can Jimmy pulled another one out of the bag and pushed it towards me. “See, we’ve got plenty. And we want to help de-stress our new m8.”

I was about to take another swig of beer when I remember, “...ah, I’ve got to do this report, or I’ll be.”

Sam jumped in. “You’ve got plenty of time.” Like the other two, he had a shaved head, but he also had a gold ring in his nose, when he talked, I could see a stud in his tongue and there were tattoos in multiple places.

“Yeah, Gaz plenty of time to do work boring shit...I bet you work all hours of the day and night. That’s why you get stressed.”

I was about to say I did, but they spoke first. “Here you are Gaz, you can have another can with us. If you want, we can give you a stress-free life”

“If only.” I sighed.

“Listen m8, we can make all those worries go away,” Sam was leaning up close to me now.

I realised I was slurring my speech at this stage, “Please, my name is Gareth. Look, I’ve a lease on my flat, I’ve got car payments to make and I’m running an overdraft right now. I don’t think you can make that go away” I replied, feeling slightly sick at the amount of debt I was funding.

“Don’t you fret about all of that,” The other two joined in, “let us take charge and your problems will be gone.”

What could I say to that? So I smiled a knowing smile and thought I’d humour my skinhead m8s. Hemmed in the way I was, I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. I don’t really remember too much more of the conversation as my three new m8s plied me with beer; but it was me talking and they were listening. At the time I didn’t realise they were that whilst I was taking relatively big gulps of beer, they were only taking small sips from their own cans.

An announcement came on the tannoy to say the next stop would be Doncaster. Jimmy piped up, “Right lads, we’re here. Gaz, get up and we’ll show you how to live stress-free.” Through my haze, I didn’t really know what was going on. Then all of a sudden, I felt someone grab my arm, pulling me out of the seat. I was about to get my stuff when Billy came really close to me and said, “Come on Gaz, we gotta go. Now!”

“Why do they insist on calling me Gaz?” I wondered

“[Burp] Hang on guys my name’s Gareth, and I’m going to a mee...” I was cut short by Billy again. “You’re meeting has just been cancelled, so you’re gonna be spending the day taking it easy with us. And we’re calling you Gaz, so get used to it. Let’s go.”

“What about my stuff?” I was trying to pull back so that I could grab my bag, coat and laptop. But Billy and Sam pulled me along the carriage. I tried to pull in the opposite direction, the direction of my belongings, but they were too strong for me. I had allowed myself to be marched off the train by two of my three new skinhead m8s who were going to ‘help me’ get rid of all my anxieties.

Once off the train, I turned around to hear the audible warning that the doors were about to close started, I was watching the train doors slide into the closed position when Jimmy came up to me holding a lit cigarette.

Blowing the smoke in my face, he spoke with reassured confidence. “The train’s departing and as you watch it leave, think this: with it goes your old life. With it goes all of your stresses and problems.” I watched the train pull out of the station, and he was right, on board were all my possessions, including my wallet and phone. I was about to panic, but Billy and Sam were beside me, holding me. Jimmy offered me a cigarette to which I declined. He came into my face and said, “take it,” he ordered. “It’s the first step to getting rid of all that stress. We’re m8s. If yer m8s smoke, then you smoke!”

I was still under the influence of whatever beer I’d been drinking, so gingerly I took the cigarette, but I didn't know how to hold it. Billy got his lighter out and lit it. “Put it between your lips and start sucking Gaz.” So, I sucked in as the flame touched the end of the cigarette. My fingers, clamped on the little cigarette, which, as you would expect for a novice was poorly positioned in my mouth. The smoke, ashy and light, filled my mouth, made my eyes water. I coughed on every drag, even though I barely inhaled. My three skinhead m8s were beside themselves with laughter. I noticed passengers gathering for the next train, and I heard them comment about smoking being banned in stations, but new m8s didn't care. Once I’d finished the first cigarette, Jimmy handed me another. “Right, here’s what you do. Put the cigarette between your lips. When I light it, gently suck the smoke - nice ‘n’ steady into your lungs.”

I gave it a go and found this time I wasn’t spluttering everywhere.

Jimmy continued, “now hold the smoke in yer lungs, and breathe in through your mouth.” I did as I was instructed. Jimmy reached into the pocket of his green jacked, as he was pulling out the contents, he said, “these are yours now. If we are going help alleviate you of your work stress you need to get through these. When you’ve finished that one, light up another.”

It wasn’t a request; it was an instruction.

Sam, who’d been talking on his phone during this time chipped in, smiling at me, “nice one m8, you’ll be smoking twenty a day before you know it.”

I just nodded, not taking much notice of what was going on as I tried to master smoking a cigarette.

Sam turned to the other two skinhead, “Tony said he’s got no appointments this morning and he can be at the studio in ten minutes. It will take us about that long to walk there with Gaz, even in the state he’s in.”

Hearing my name, piqued my interest in their conversation, “wh... wh. where ere are we going?”

Billy jumped in, “we’re taking you to another m8′s gaff. His work is transformative. In no time at all your work worries will be a faded memory.”

Sam has started sniggering, so had Jimmy, but then he managed to say, “Before we can go to Tony’s studio, we need to stop off with Gaz at the house. Let’s get a move on, we’ve a lot to do.”

#slkinhead #smoking #ranger boots

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imkillerbae · 11 months

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Happy Ending (Valorant Sova x Fem!Reader)

Summary:

You meet Sova again after years of distance. He’s surprised to see you so changed, while he remained mostly the same.

Wordcount: 1.4k

CW: Regret, emotional damage *with rizz*, reader has her own family, there's a kid in this fic, sad fic, sad Sova (he need some milk), author likes to make characters have sadge A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours because i was inspired by some songs. And i jus love sad stories so why not you know. Enjoy this short fic of sova regretting life choices (like the author does)

Russia was big. But Sova’s hometown wasn’t. He didn’t know if he was thankful for that or not. You didn’t seem to mind bumping into him though, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Buying groceries for his babushka turned into inviting you to his home while his grandma made hot chocolate for both of you. It was like the old times, as he remembered it fondly. But somehow with all the stress he had in his work and life, he didn’t seem to remember how time flew by so fast.

You were perplexed when he invited you for a quick chat when your carts collided in the supermarket. He was still himself, although aged and battle scarred. Nothing out of the ordinary for a hunter.

“It’s been too long. Since when did you get back?” You asked him, parking your cart to the side to face him. He was leaning on the handle bars with his arms, bent over his groceries. His silvery blonde hair was braided, laying on his shoulder, lose hairs framing his face. Tilting his head to the side, he recalls the time. “About two days ago. I was too tired to explore immediately so I’ve only been out today.”

He smiles up at you with an almost puppy like grin. “You’ve changed,” he comments, eyeing your face then body, noticing how you dressed more womanly. You smile a tight-lipped smile, primping your hair behind your ear. “Well, it has been years. Time has aged us both.” You chuckled, and he shakes his head. “You’re still full of life as I remember you. Even more so now.”

Sova couldn’t help but stare at you even as you caught him doing so. He longed to see a familiar face when he got back for a break. And yours was the one he longed for most. He blushed as he eyed your silhouette. Somehow, he still feels giddy whenever you’re around, even years later. As the saying goes: first love never dies.

As you both pushed your carts around for things you needed, you talked about life. You were happy that he was more confident now, in contrast to how shy and meek he was before despite towering over most people.

“It is similar to the army, but very different at the same time. I’m able to put my hunting skills to good use,” he says about his job in the protocol. “I’m glad it faired well for you. Seems like there were no regrets in leaving all those years before,” you speak in an almost sullen voice. His mouth opens to protest, but he doesn’t say a word and just nods. His heart clenches at your comment.

When you both arrived at his little home, his babushka was already there to greet you. You hug her warmly, greeting your usual greetings. You met her occasionally, and in those times, she’s always mentioned how much she misses seeing you with her grandson. You could only laugh; those times were long gone.

When he got involved in more confidential jobs, it required him to travel more. It put a strain on your relationship, which often led to fights about commitment and future plans. About how much you really loved each other, and what you were willing to sacrifice. You were both young back then, and you were each other’s first lover.

Your principles did not align: you wanted something serious, and he was looking for the next big thing. You focused on this small town, while he had his sights to the vast hunting grounds he could venture in. Out of naivety, you were left out from the bigger picture. He was finding himself, and in turn, lost you.

And as the time that passed would prove it, not all of his decisions were the best ones.

You both sat in silence for a moment, facing the window as the snow crashed against it. It was warm inside his home, the fire pit burning brightly in the corner. He tipped his glass towards him and looked at his own reflection. He felt a familiar feeling in this exact same scenario. With both of you holding hot cups of chocolate, sitting side by side, watching the window. He smiled to himself before he spoke.

“I missed you,” he admits, looking at you. You return his gaze with a sad smile. “I missed you too… it’s been years since before. Sometimes it feels just like yesterday we were here in these very chairs… planning our lives,” you chuckle.

“We wanted a small house with a large yard,” he recalls.

“Flower beds on both sides,” you follow up.

“Near the woods so I could hunt anytime I wanted.”

“A stable for horses.”

“A tree house for the kids.”

“How many kids did you want Sasha?”

“Four, and you wanted only one.”

“I got what I wanted,” you smiled excitedly. He raises a brow, smile dropping. “What do you mean?” He asks wearily, and you pull out your wallet. Taking out a photo, you hand it to him. “That’s my child. Turning 3 this year,” you smile, pointing at the photo, leaning closer to him. His heart beats against his chest; he could hear it against his skull.

You had a family.

“It all went well in the end, didn’t it? We both got what we wanted,” you continue, taking your photo and staring at it. He looked at you with a different thought now. He couldn’t tell what it was until you spoke again. “I got my house with a family, you got your job and glory. We both got our happy ending.”

He felt a sting of regret. Regret of leaving you, and regret for what could’ve been.

You sipped on the hot chocolate as he clenched his own glass, his heavy sigh visible. He avoids your eyes. “I cannot say that I got my happy ending.” He chuckles sadly. “This… what I have now… the family I found… I would not trade it for the world.” He starts, remembering the Valorant protocol. Brimstone, Sage, Viper, Jett, Phoenix and everyone else. He clenched his fist and smiled fondly. “But I will always wonder what could have been. If I had stayed and made it work.”

You look at him with an empty look, hoping he’d explain more. Setting your cup down, you observed his face. He was looking down at the floors, his hair loose from its braid, smile wavering. “I love you. I still do.” He admits, raising his head to look at you again, the pain in his chest was almost unbearable.

Impulsively you chuckle at his confession, gritting your teeth. His chest felt tight at that moment. “It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” You joked, but you meant it. “When you left, I wanted to wait for you. But things never really end up the way we want them don’t they?” You smiled at him, caressing his arm.

He flinches at your touch but does not pull away.

“Do you think we would’ve worked if I stayed?” He asked curiously, hopefully. He wanted to at least have this closure.

You stare into his eyes, and you could see all the pain he felt at the moment. He was still the same as his younger self: naïve and vulnerable. As much as he’d aged, he did not move on from the past. He could not forget you. And he was shocked to see you so mature and moving on without him.

You smile at him gently and reach for his cheek, caressing it gently. “In that other world, you would have made me the happiest person alive,” you answered honestly. He leans against your touch. It would be the last time he’d ever feel something like this.

He drove you back to your home. It looked exactly like what you both wanted. A small house with a large yard, flowerbeds covered in snow, a tree house in the works. As he carried your groceries to the front door, he was greeted by a young child that had your eyes and hair. She calls for you as you take her into your arms. “Uncle Sasha! Say hi, say un-cle Sa-sha,” you tell her, and she mimics you.

Sova shakes hands with your child, her hand so small compared to his own. It took all of him not to cry at that moment. She looked just like you.

“Take care Sasha. I hope you find your happy ending,” you smiled at him, waving your child’s hand goodbye. “Take care as well. I hope you don’t mind me sending you gifts for the little one?” He asks, waving back, and you nod in response. Before he takes off, he says one last thing.

“Your happy ending is my happy ending.”

#valorant sova #sova x reader #valorant sova x reader #valorant imagines #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant sova imagines #valorant sova oneshot #valorant oneshots #valorant oneshot #sova #fanfiction #valorant fanfiction

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redhoodinternaldialectical · 10 months

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Introducing my jaytim fanfiction series Chained!

This is the largest writing project I have ever attempted! Currently (March 29th, 2024) it sits at a length of 153,000 words published and some back of the napkin math puts the final product in the ballpark of War and Peace’s 500,000+ words. halp lmao! This post is designed to serve as an introduction to what the story is about, what my Tim and Jason are gonna be like, and what parts of canon I’m sticking to

"So, what’s the premise ya dorkus malorkus?”

Jason is set in front of a contract that will grant near omnipotence over every facet of reality. The catch is that it requires the person who actually gains the power to be permanently bound into the service of someone else. Afraid of what this could do in the wrong hands, Jason asks Tim to be his new Master.

(a picture of Jason with the halo and armor the contract grants him that I drew :3 also, have a link to the fics!)

After many hours of intense negotiations (the entire first fic in the series), they produce a subcontract designed to maintain Jason's basic rights as a person while still granting them enough power to overcome whatever whatever caused the contract to be written in the first place. Now all that's left is to destroy the evidence, win the fight, and start remaking the world in their image...

Expect to read about: extensive theological discussions complete with readings of the Bhagavad Gita, shape shifting, hijinks, Harley Quinn being a menace to society really good therapist, redonkulous amounts of time travel and time loops, murders most foul, webs of lies and deceit as Oracle works to uncover their secrets, angst, fluff, hurt, comfort, and I’m gonna stop there before I overpromise myself, turn into a puddle, and never manage to finish the damn thing, lol

The draw of the premise for me is exploring the constant renegotiation of boundaries between Jason and Tim as they navigate a truly terrible idea of a romance. This is slow burn in that it takes them a really long time to get together properly due to the aforementioned terrible idea part, but they know they’re in love very early on.

“Lay out the dynamics there hoss”

I reserve the right to fuss with these, but my intention is:

Jason/Tim = the genius fragile human made of pure spite and determination and their sentient bodyguard/servant monster who they like lowkey have a thing with. Think Integra Hellsing and Alucard.

Barbara Gorden versus Tim Drake = genius versus genius 5D chess headgames war. Think L and Light with Jason as Ryuuk. But like if Light was into Ryuuk.

Tim/Jason versus [MAIN VILLAIN SPOILERS] = warring Gods. The source of a new mythology.

Honestly, just mark down Hellsing Ultimate and Death Note animes as major influences.

“What’s a folk gotta do ta get some headcanons and characterization in this joint?”

For Tim I’m going mainly with him in his Red Robin run where he finds Bruce, blows up the League of assassins and shit like that. I love how absolutely arrogant this man is, and I find the way he struggles with the ethics of the job really neat. This version of Tim seems perfect to act as the commander: always tempted to do more, tempted to go further into the dark with power, but also having a lot of self control and dedication to doing right.

In terms of personal headcannons I am making him trans (cause I can), ADHD/Autistic (because it makes sense), and a dabbler in mild, lowkey amphetamine abuse (The coffee chugger who never sleeps of fanon intrigues me, but also caffeine kinda doesn’t do that, whereas adderall definitely does. He’ll use both stimulants as available and needed. I like a man who knows he badly overworks himself but who can’t realistically say he shouldn’t be overworking himself.)

Jason is a much harder cat to herd because writers have long been playing tug of war with his characterization, dragging him over the line to unhinged villain then back to just another bat over and over. I always like Jason, but I think he’s at his weakest at both extremes of the spectrum. He’s a good villain/antagonist in general, but a phenomenal one when he has real goals and morals. He’s a good anti-hero/tenuous ally in general, but a phenomenal one when he and the family have serious disagreements and Jason is still a killer.

I’m keeping this fic as canon compliant as possible, but there is a bare minimum amount of rearrangement necessary to make Jason consistently morally grey rather than an ethical checkers board that looks grey when you turn it sideways and squint.

Headcanons for Jason include chronic pain (I just think being blown up should screw with a guy’s nerves), trans (cause I can), and having schizophrenia (cause I see some possible canon evidence and he’s had a LOT of ableist stuff thrown his way and I don’t really like ‘well I’m not actually mentally ill’ as a resolution point to that. I am leaving it ambiguous if this has anything to do with the Lazarus Pit, but I intend it to be very unambiguous that it has nothing to do with why he has beef with the rest of the bats. His grievances are not delusions. His moral positions are not delusions. He will hallucinate and I may have him develop delusions, but he’ll also take medication for that and employ coping mechanisms like real life people with schizophrenia do. The mental illnesses are something he deals with, not something that controls him into being evil, no matter their source.)

Oh and it should go without saying that everyone has so much PTSD!

“Cut ta the chase already jabrony, give us da timeline”

Crisis on Infinite Earths, Final Crisis, Infinite Crisis, Flashpoint, Convergence, and the Rebirth changes happened in this fic's canon. We are dealing with multiple multiverses. If you’re familiar with the concept of ‘Hypertime’ used to facilitate the Elseworlds series and elaborated on during the Dark Knights: Metal stuff, I’m building off of that. If you’re not, don’t worry about it, there will be a far better explanation in the fic as the characters discover this shit for themselves.

This takes place during the "Rebirth" era of DC comics canon in a fanfic universe I made up within that canon multiverse called Earth 69. Earth 69 is my idea of what the pre-flashpoint timeline might have looked like if flashpoint never happened. Essentially I'm taking the post crisis stuff and extending it by acting as though that timeline just kept going, with plot points from New 52 and Rebirth canon welded onto the end of it. Keep in mind though, Earth 69 only coincidentally mirrors pre-flashpoint events; that canonical pre-flashpoint multiverse still exists!

Now lets go through just Earth 69′s timeline, focusing on Tim and Jason

Based on the letter Jason sends to Kid Devil, I put the year of his death as 1985. Ten years have passed since then at the start of this fic, making Tim 23 and Jason 25. The influence of alien tech and supergeniouses accelerated cultural and scientific growth such that while the fic takes place in 1995, every bit of tech and culture from 1980 to 2024 is fair game to show up. I find it fun to play around with laser turret drones and microfiche spy tactics all in the same story, so our heroes listened to My Chemical Romance on their smartphones while watching the fall of the Berlin Wall on live TV.

Batman (1940) issues #419 - #429 aka Jason’s post-crisis Robin years happen almost identically to the comics, except that Jason is a trans man and it was the Penguin that got Willis Todd locked up for life and then killed instead of Two Face. Bruce eventually finds out he’s trans and is supportive if understandably clueless. He raises Jason as his son. It’s important to me that Jason’s beef with Batman not leave either side objectively correct. Their relationship and hurts are a lot more compelling to me if Bruce isn’t transphobic.

A Place of Lonely Dying and the Robin (1993) series happen with very few deviations, with the understanding that I've read less of this than would be ideal and might get some things mixed up as I go along. Those deviations include Tim also being a trans man. Because he was looking into transition care for Jason, Bruce already knows about puberty blockers and HRT and supplies them to him. That becomes a big part of why Tim’s Dad is so freaked out by Tim being Robin. In this timeline, one of the major reasons Tim is so attached to the role of Robin is that it’s the first role in his life where he gets to be himself.

Lost Days happens as it did in comics except for two changes. Firstly when Talia sleeps with him, it's not sex, it's fully clothed cuddling and actual sleeping. I think this compromise preserves the important emotional conflict that I identified in this reading of her motivations, while sidestepping some of the problems the sex caused. The second change is that Jason won't have ended Lost Days by going to talk to Hush...

Because I HATE Thomas Elliot as a character. I hate how he was implemented. I hate that he kept showing up. I hate that they killed off Harold. I hate Hush. So it never happened on Earth 69! Instead I'll be emphasizing Tim and Jason's later fights, which have some similar emotional beats.

Now, whether or not Jason held a knife to Tim’s throat is kinda fucking important to how their relationship is interpreted! Most people, understandably, make this a serious event between the two. However, in all the comics I’ve been reading, I have seen zero characters ever acknowledge that Jason was involved. Tim hasn’t thought or said anything about it, even when it really seemed relevant. Jason technically tells Batman he did it in UtRH, but it's never brought up again and at this point it feels almost like Judd Winick tricked DC into publishing a headcanon that applies nowhere else lmao. Therefore I feel fine with just ditching this and putting more emphasis on their later fights which have similar emotional beats.

Under the Red Hood happens, with one modification. He knows about Stephanie's death and treats it with the gravity she deserves. He is targeting Black Mask because of Steph's death, and something very similar to the excellent fanfic 'hangman is coming down from the gallows' by nex_et_nox happens.

Young Justice (1998) happens, except for some of the mythological encounters. They did watch Santa get blown up, but I will be taking liberties with how the Greek Pantheon operates, and holy fucking shit, no they did not meet the goddess Kali like that, what the fuck, did no one even try to do a basic level of cultural sensitivity research?!? Anyways.

Jason does fight Batman, Green Arrow, and Mia as told in Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72. Roy does hear about this, but he hears about it the way that Mia herself tells it when asked about it in the comic, i.e. “He didn’t hurt me. We just talked.” So he's not exactly all that freaked out about it.

Roy Harper and Jason first meet in Outsiders (2003) #44 - #46 where he helps Roy and Dick exonerate Black Lightning with no ulterior motives, as in the comics.

Teen Titans (2003) #29 (The Titans Tower fight) happens as it did in comics. i.e. It was a fair one on one fight in which both participants understood that the other was not trying to kill them and both combatants walked away with nothing more than superficial injuries. Tim came away from that with a black eye and a grudge; Jason came away from it thinking Tim was pretty alright in his book. The writing on the wall was either Jason’s own blood, or red paint, because there is simply no earthly way that was Tim’s blood.

Teen Titans (2003) in general happens to Tim, though there’s a lot that connects to Countdown to Final Crisis (which can only have happened in the canonical pre-flashpoint multiverse) that may or may not need to be edited and removed.

The combination of events from Countdown to Final Crisis and Teen Titans (2003) #47 also happens, in which Jason attempts to save Duela Dent from murder, fails, connects with Donna at her funeral, and then is interrogated by Tim and Dick who suspect Jason murdered her. Oh and also it's where Tim kicks him in the pants lol. Obviously the reason Duela died and who murdered her has to be different, but all that should be details that don't matter for the fic's purposes.

I've already mentioned that Robin (1993) was being considered canon to Earth 69′s timeline, but make special note here of issue #177, in which Tim sends Jason to jail (his first prison stint, yay :D). One modification here: Jason's plan is to manipulate the established mob families into fighting the cops, leaving the local communities to govern themselves, not to use "kid gangs" to soften up the cops and the mob like happens in the comic. Because like... the on panel plan makes no sense, either logistically or for his character, and idk why but the way the author uses the concept of “kid gangs” leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Nightwing (1996) #118 - #122 aka Brothers in Blood aka the one where Jason becomes a tentacle vore monster happens exactly as depicted in comics. Exactly. As. Depicted. Well okay not exactly, I need him to not have threatened to bomb a building full of innocent people, that is a bridge too far, but everything else stays!

The Red Robin series happens as depicted, except for how Tim got the costume. The Red Robin costume that Tim wears in the pre-flashpoint multiverse was from that multiverse’s Earth 51. On Earth 69 the Red Robin costume was what Bruce made for Jason in anticipation of him wanting to outgrow the Robin mantel one day, like Nightwing did (tho uhhh great job reframing why the Nightwing mantel exists there Bruce lmao). When Dick gave the Robin role to Damian, Tim took the Red Robin outfit for himself from it’s pedestal next to The Memorial Case. There was a considerable amount of spite towards multiple people involved in that decision.

Battle for the Cowl is where it gets trickier. I am going to gut most of the plot of BftC and combine a few plot elements from it with the Batman and Robin (2009) series in order to create a much longer lasting conflict that preserves Jason as an anti-hero and his partnership with Scarlet/Sasha as a competing vigilante force to Dick and Damian.

After Bruce’s “death” Dick super does not ever want to be Batman. No one does really. Jason hears Bruce's post-death message and is understandably fucking devastated. He decides to say fuck that noise, Bruce is gone now, and I'm gonna be Batman since no one else seems willing to do it, and I'm gonna do it my way! Another Batman running around shooting people dead forces Dick’s hand and he takes up the Batman mantel to fight him. Batman and Robin (2009) #3 - #6 happen roughly as depicted, but with Jason still claiming to be Batman, and he doesn’t have red hair. (I’m so sorry white suit + pill helmet costume, but I must leave you behind for the sake of continuity). Jason's stint in Arkham and then Blackgate happens. Batman and Robin (2009) #23 - #25 happen as depicted, minus the part where Jason rigged the entire fucking civilian tram line to explode. After Jason and Scarlet fly off into the sunset together, they come back to Gotham and keep fighting.

Sometime after he's free again he does Roy a favor. I haven't decided what exactly, but it's big. I’ve toyed with the idea that he broke him out of prison because he doesn’t want to see Liam grow up without a dad in a move very similar to the Outsiders thing and roughly analogous to how he meets Roy in Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011), but that seems a lil repetitive and why would Roy even be in jail, so idk.

By this point the events of Red Robin are over and Tim has joined Dick and Damian in fighting Jason. Sometime before the climactic battle, Scarlet leaves for [FANFIC SPOILERS] reasons, so it becomes just Jason again. He goes through with something like the plan from Battle for the Cowl, luring Tim to his Batcave and offering him a place as his Robin. As in comics, Tim's answer is to pick up a crowbar and wack Jason across the face with it! Jason wins the fight and stabs Tim in the chest, knowing it's not gonna kill him, but fine with it leaving one hell of a scar! Dick's fight with Jason afterwards, and Jason jumping from the train into the harbor, happens as it did in BftC #3 with the exception of Dick wearing the Batsuit instead of Tim.

Starfire contacts Roy for help with a lengthy, off planet mission - one that absolutely needs a Bat on board. Every single Bat is up to their eyeballs in fires to put out and projects to run... except for Jason. Roy knows a lot of other Heroes with very good reasons to hate him, but in his personal experience, Jason’s always been a reliable if shady and asshole-ish guy working for the greater good. Ya’know. A Bat. It helps that they both think Bruce treats Dick like garbage sometimes and thus are inclined to be sympathetic towards Jason's beef with him. Roy vouches for him and brings him on board. They work well together, they save the days in outer space, and after a particularly dangerous mission they have a "thank fuck we're not dead" threesome together. This replaces the New 52 version of Red Hood and the Outlaws.

During the trip back to Earth, Jason confides in them about his woes and they encourage him to sort his shit out and get his life back together. Jason agrees and after considering it for a while he asks Roy and Starfire to help negotiate a truce between him and the rest of the Bats. They agree and thus begins two years of ceasefire and getting more friendly with the other Bats.

During those two years, the events of Dark Knights: Metal occur. The Source Wall is broken, and all the peoples of all the earths are plunged into a nightmare world. No one really remembers what happened, it’s all very vague and drifty, like remembering a dream, unsurprisingly. People have been referring to this event as The Nightmares.

This two year period also contains my version of Rebirth Red Hood and the Outlaws. Jason attempts to infiltrate Black Mask’s gang because the real Black Mask should be super dead and super unwilling to work with him. He’s a LOT more competent about it than in comics tho.

The biggest change is what goes down with Cobblepot. Jason’s original intention was to fake the penguin’s death and take all his power and assets from him, as he did in comics. However, he loses Artemis and Bizzaro before he goes through with that plan instead of after. At the last minute he switches the blanks out for lead. The Penguin is super dead.

He fights back when Bruce confronts him, but it's still a brutal fight and ultimately Roy has to separate them. Then Jason follows his father’s trail to the experimentation prison thing like in comics. Roy doesn’t die along the way, we don’t have the scene with Bruce at the diner, but in the end it turns out that his father is actually dead. No one survived that place. He only found boxes of dusty, decaying files, a grave out back, and Dr. Fate. Once he was convinced there was nothing more to find, Dr. Fate took him to John Constantine and The Contract, and that’s just about where our story begins!

Have another link, and I hope some of y’all enjoy what I’ve got so far!

#Damian's Tomfoolery #fanfic #jason todd #tim drake #jaytim #jason todd/tim drake

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daisybianca · 1 year

Note

hey, could you do a friends to lovers w/ charles!

WAG VIBES

pairing: charles leclerc x femalereader

summary: charles had been your friend since you could remember yourself. after a few years of not being able to meet, he promised you that a package would be at your door in a matter of hours. little did you know that the mysterious package was the man himself and that things would get a little bit complicated between the two of you.

warnings: slight swearing, tiny mentions of sex

NOT CONSTRUCTING AN incredibly powerful bond when in the early ages of your lives, wasn't an available option when it came to you and Charles Leclerc, the admired and favored F1 driver.

Your mothers had formed an appreciable friendship since high school and that seemed to be just enough for their children to inherit that habit as well.

Due to his strenuous and consuming profession, his job required nonstop traveling to different mainlands and constant practicing. Because of this, there had been numerous months you two hadn't succeed to meet.

You had considered the lacking variety of options to spend time with your childhood friend, but none of them really appeared to be the precise solution. The idea of attending an f1 race slipped by your thoughts for a second, but you rejected it almost immediately. The events took place far away from your home country and the responsibility for your job and your limited time were the main reasons holding you back.

However, you two had figured out a way to communicate with each other by texting almost every night to talk about your day and in the morning, before heading to work. Face-timing was also an extremely pleasant remedy to cure your friend's sadness and rage after a rough or even a poor performance at a Grand Prix. Video chatting also seemed to be useful when you lost track of time at work and returned home late at night. Even if you were in your car, Charles insisted that he was willing to keep an eye on you, despite the fact that time zones were undoubtedly a challenging thing.

So generally, you always somehow found your way to each other. One way or another, you both created methods to achieve that.

Charles texted you this morning. Just at 10am. He was fully aware of the reality that you never were an early riser and knew better than to ruin that.

The fact is, though, that you wouldn't really mind as long as it was him interrupting your soothing time in bed.

It was bizarre that he texted you a good morning text. He never surely did, preferring the Face-Time choice to view your sleepy and drowsy reactions.

Your concern about his unusual message faded out by the time a second one showed up, brightening up the screen in the unilluminated room.

Harry Pottah from Walmart: Good Morning, Sunshine.

You read the very first message, which was accompanied by a bright sun emoji.

You let yourself shape a tiny smile. There had been a few days since you last heard him form those words. You adored him calling you that, but it would be so much better hearing it face to face.

You transferred your eyes to glance the second text.

Harry Pottah from Walmart: There'll be a package on your door at 7pm ASAP. Open the door and receive it. I hope you don't need a tutorial for that too, otherwise don't you dare ask me, there's something called freaking internet to help you out. I'm not a Wikipedia machine.

Your smile vanished and for a couple of seconds you felt remorseful for allowing him to know how obsessed you once used to be with Youtube tutorials.

A third, smaller text appeared on the screen, catching you off guard.

Harry Pottah from Walmart: P.S. be kind to the delivery man or I'm calling your mom.

Taking a loud, extended breath, you typed the response to his messages with almost-wobbly hands.

Me: Mrs. Pascale wouldn't be proud of his son talking to a lady like that.

You sent the sentence, mentioning his own mother to tease him a little, while including an emoji that was supposed to portray a sad face at the end of it.

You chortled at his amusing answer and placed your phone on the nightstand to charge it.

Getting up from your bed to endure your monotonous day, all your mind could revolve around was the package Charles referred to previously.

You had a great instinct for that and your heart was fierce and deafening in your chest, only at the thought of him gifting something to you after a very long time. You didn't permit yourself to build sizeable expectations because the outcome could be also disappointing, though.

But you couldn't care less if the content of the package was pretty or cheap or pricey as long as it was from him.

You exhaled and sniffled the odor of the coffee you made and felt the warmth of it enfolding your hands.

Just a couple of hours to figure out.

You could wait with the sensation of anticipation filling every inch of your body.

It wasn't like he could possibly show up at your door. He couldn't do that, he had a race in Russia in a couple of days.

It was just a package.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Yet, your mind denied doggedly to remain at a distance from it.

The hours passed surprisingly briefly and the clock above the kitchen table of your duplex apartment read 6:58 pm.

As you glanced over at the door, the flashings of the booming bolts of lightning outside the window made you observe the violent rainfall which turned the night sky quite gloomy.

Who would have thought that something so colorless as water could make clouds that dark and shadowy?

Approaching one of the wide windows, you tried to scrub condensed water droplets so that you could obtain a clearer view of the busy street ahead. There were plenty of people holding umbrellas and walking down the moist pavement, but no one actually headed to the entry of your home.

You were pressing your lips together in worry when the bell suddenly rang, gaining your attention solely.

You walked to the door with brave and patient small steps, opening it without minding asking who was behind it. If you got kidnapped or robbed, it'd be Charles' fault for instructing you to open the door at 7pm sharp.

The person that came into sight caused a considerably powerful freezing to your entire body, soul, brain, and most importantly, to the red organ vibrating inside of you.

Charles' eyes lit up and changed from narrow to wide when his gaze fell upon you. ''Sorry, the delivery man turned into a wet cat. Jesus, I'm soaked.'' Your head dropped back. Your laugh was a weapon of mass seduction and he had always remained its biggest target.

So he just stood there staring and beaming as he allowed the sound of your chucklesome laugh to imprint on his mind.

He hadn't heard that while facing each other in forever and a day. Only through a lifeless and wireless device, which only produced image and sound but failed to extract the small details of your face while forming the act. Of your petite nose wrinkling when you laughed. Of your dainty features that brightened up the whole room when you were in it and blessed the observer with a unique smile.

You almost rushed to him, falling into his moist embrace. He seemed to be quite hesitant about hugging you back because of his sopping clothes but finally, he gave in and wrapped his hands gently around you. Charles caressed your back and you could sense the watered fabric stick to your flesh, yet you didn't even mind. Not for a single moment.

His sweet glare reminded you of a golden retreiver.

''How long have you been in the country?'' You gestured for him to enter the house and he did, after removing his waterlogged shoes.

''Since this morning. I texted you the moment I got off the plane.'' His gaze found you and there was a glimpse in those colorful eyes of his that made butterflies take flight in your stomach.

That made sense. That was the reason why he selected chatting instead of video chatting.

He was here. With you. You couldn't believe it.

You needed to shoot a question but his penetrating gaze incapacitated you. ''Don't you have a race in like three days from now?'' Curiosity finally won as you blurted the words out.

''You mean the Russian Grand Prix? It was canceled so I have a few days to rest.'' Charles blinked twice. How the hell didn't you read somewhere about the race being called off? ''Oh, um--I bought you this.'' The man handed you a plastic bag with a heavy, brown box with a red, decorative strip in a heart shape on top of it. It looked like a product from a pastry shop.

You grinned and accepted the bag, placing it on the table that was located a few feet ahead. ''What's that?''

''I played the role of the delivery man, so I suppose that's for the package I promised.'' Charles explained and approached you from behind, eventually his posture hardening a few inches away from you.

You nearly gasped at the sight of the content of the box.

It was a remarkably enormous cake. A chocolate one, to be accurate, which made your mouth water momentarily. With dissimilar-hued sprinkles patterning small hearts and covering the surface of the dessert. Additionally, a smiley face was laying in the heart of the cake, two white cookies forming the eyes, while the mouth was nicely done with matching truffles.

''Charles, did you forget the date of my birthday?'' You giggled.

''Of course I remember when your birthday is, (y/n)!'' Your childhood friend's orotund voice sounded rather... offended?!

''Why would you buy me a cake then, Charles?'' You tittered, turning around to face the man standing with his arms crossed firmly and his eyes traveling around.

He kind of seemed taller. But he obviously wasn't because you had last seen him a few months ago, not in puberty.

''I just--I recalled how much you love cakes.'' Charles' tone emerged as gruff and hoarse. ''I never forgot, to be honest.''

A sense of pride hit you, considering he never failed to commit to memory small, inconsequential details about you.

''I have a few clothes kept in the closet for you. You should probably get changed before devouring the smiley face with me, Mrs. Leclerc.'' His eyes dropped down to you and then, he shook his head unapprovingly and smiled.

You placed your palms softly on his drenched and strong chest, expecting the warmth of him to have kind of hidden behind the frostiness of the fabric.

But there it was. Covering every inch of his flawless-crafted upper body.

''Nah,'' He pronounced the word confidently and loudly. Charles' lips curved into a seductive smile that made your knees feely unsteady for a little while. Reaching out, he grabbed your hands from his chest and delicately applied carefully small kisses to them. ''I'm not sharing that cake with you. It's all yours, Sunshine.''

Your stomach did a betraying little flip that somewhat terrified you.

''If you don't eat, I don't eat either.''

Charles released a shuddery breath, uncapturing your hands from his grip as you immediately missed the feeling of his flesh touching yours.

You looked up to find his gaze already fixed on you.

''Fine.'' Smacking slightly the back of your neck, he started running upstairs in a hurry. ''But you're not playing fair!'' He yelled as you sprinted behind him.

Entering the commodious guest room, you spotted Charles almost buried in the broad closet.

''I don't know which one might look better on me.'' He extended his hands, swirling two different-shaded hoodies in the air. ''What do you think?''

You blinked at the two pieces of clothing. The one to your left was deep green while the other was a Spongebob hoodie your mother had gifted Charles for his 22nd birthday.

''Since when do you care about being fashionable?'' You joked, raising an eyebrow. ''Last time I checked fashion was a completely foreign word to you.'' Moving nearer to him, you examined the two options in his hands.

''I feel rather offended.'' Charles laughed, turning into ice as your forehead was a few inches away from his mouth. The desire to nudge forward and collide his lips with your forehead ignited like a scorching blaze inside him.

''I think I prefer this one.'' Your eyes connected with his as you patted the greenish hoodie. ''Don't tell my mom I didn't choose the one she bought you, but the green one matches your eyes better.''

Charles swayed his head. ''Your secret is safe with me.''

Dropping the Spongebob hoodie on the bed behind you, he pulled his phone, a wallet, and his keys out of the pockets of his jeans. Your friend handed them to you instead of dropping them on the bed with the yellow fabric.

Charles forced his wet hoodie off his head, unveiling the abs, arms and chest beneath it.

You suddenly sensed a slight flushing on your face. Charles noticed that.

''Are you blushing?'' His question caused a tickle to your heart.

You turned around, not allowing yourself to view the almost naked Charles anymore.

''No, I am not.'' You denied the painful truth, biting your bottom lip to prevent any unethical words from escaping. ''Next time racing don't choke on water. Try utilizing it to clean your eyesight, because you're clearly fairly blind.''

Charles fleed a husky growling that was supposed to sound like a laugh.

Gosh, you were so fucked.

''I don't remember you having such an attitude, sweatheart.'' His tone was smoky and flat.

You ignored his statement and could identify the sound of his jeans being unzipped.

You froze and tried desperately to locate something to distract you from what was occurring just behind you.

Abandoning his wallet and the keys on the closer furniture, which happened to be a forgotten desktop, you turned his phone on in rapid movements and headed to the camera app, while posing to take a few funny photos of yourself.

At the sight of the photo that covered his phone screen, your thoughts emptied.

''Am I your lockscreen?'' You blurted out as you re-viewed the woman on Charles' screen to double-check it was certifiably you.

''Shit, you weren't supposed to see that!'' The man grabbed the device and you spun to find him changed in his favorite cozy, grey sweatpants and the hoodie you had selected just moments ago.

The image that seemed to be his lockscreen was a moment he had captured two Christmases ago. In the photo, you hugged tightly a snowman that leaned like the tower of Pisa as you two laughed uncontrollably at it falling apart in your embrace.

It was the last Christmas you two had managed to spend together and it was nearly painful recalling those unforgettably beautiful moments that had stamped your mind.

''You're the one blushing now, Sir.'' Charles frowned at the last word you added to your ironic statement.

''Don't fucking call me that.'' He passed by you furiously and you giggled.

He was mad for some reason now. But everything would be just fine in a few minutes. That's how your friendship worked since you could remember yourselves being each other's dearest company.

As your hands scratched the wet surface of the dishes, Charles' ethereal voice echoed, approaching from behind. ''You sure you don't need any help with those?'' He asked for the second time, referring to the dirty dishes on the sink with dregs of chocolate on them.

''No, I'm almost done.''

Looking at you, he bit his upper lip, tasting the flavor of the chocolate from moments earlier.

He had one slice while you almost ate half of the cake.

Indeed you adored chocolate cakes. You had almost forgotten how much you loved them.

But Charles hadn't.

Charles breathed and let his gaze wander on you. He couldn't fathom how this earth and the sun and the moon and the sky could exist and be perceived as enteral sources of happiness, yet... yet the woman standing right in front of him could bring so much warmth and comfort to him with just a single glance or a small smile.

He moved closer to you. You could sense the heat of his body right next to you. However, you didn't permit yourself to move or talk or even breathe...

Charles' arm found its way around your neck and froze there. At first, you thought it was one of his platonic gestures where he would jokingly wrap his hand around you, preventing you from moving, and would tickle the shit out of you until you burst into mixed tears and laughs.

But when his lips collided with your forehead softly, you realized it wasn't one of those moments.

Charles planted a smooch on your skin, depositing his wet mark there.

''I've been waiting to do that for quite a while. And more.'' Your eyes extended as Charles pulled you into a warm embrace. It felt so good and you realized your friend enjoyed it as well when a small groan escaped from him. You wished you could stay like that forever. ''I kind of missed you, Sunshine.''

''Kind of?''

Charles smiled before correcting. ''A lot.'' You smiled too as he amended his words. ''Oh, and I-um, I have an announcement to make.'' He whispered, pulling back to view your reaction as he spoke the words loud and clear. ''I'm sleeping in your bed tonight. With you. Like those old days when we could fit into a single bed, remember?''

You tried to hide your excitement. You would have tried to suggest this to him, but you were a little scared of any possible rejection of your plan. ''My bed is king-sized, so I'll guess that would be pretty cool.''

If the sound of the rain didn't completely fill the room, you could have possibly heard the roaring of his heart in his chest when you accepted his idea. Besides, your head was just a few inches away from his torso. It wouldn't be too difficult for the organ to be noticed.

The rest of the afteroon progressed rapidly, forming into a rainy night. You two watched an SCI-FI movie, which Charles insisted he had seen before, although it was eventually proven that he hadn't, because of the fact that he had predicted an extremely different ending.

You laughed at Charles' hilarious stories of the F1 races, rolling in the aisles, and he took advantage of that, capturing the moment with his phone camera.

You danced and pursued Charles to join you. The frown drawn on his face at that moment was something truly worth-laughing at.

By the time the clock had declared that it was nearly 2am, Charles approached you on the floor and you didn't protest as he wrapped an arm around you, taking the brunt of your weight. He didn't think as he hauled you over his shoulder, bringing your ass to his eye level.

''I think my feet need to be amputated.'' You flinched, completely losing your footing as he carried you upstairs. The dancing was genuinely exhausting but the overall experience was certainly worth it.

''Problem solved, Sunshine.''

''Charles!'' You shouted, facing his back. You could swear that the cake you previously devoured was by far the most satisfying thing you had ever smelled, but the aroma extracting from Charles' body was always so outstanding and incredibly... alluring. ''What are you doing?'' You rammed your small fists into his spine and he grunted.

''Being a gentleman.''

''More like a caveman! Put me down right now! This is so embarassing.''

''No one is here to see you, (y/n).'' Charles mentioned as he slowly walked up the stairs, heading to your room.

Your head lifted. ''What time is it?''

''Almost two.''

You gasped. ''Gosh, I lost track of time.'' Charles blinked. Twice. He tried so hard not to transfer his eyes to your ass. He even moved his rough hands lower on your thighs, so that he wouldn't have any physical touch with that exact lovely part of your body.

''No worries, we'll make it to your room before you turn into a pumpkin, princess.''

''That's not even how the story goes, Charles!'' Your laugh was muffled by his hoodie as he carried you to the door.

''Close enough.''

''God, you can be so annoying sometimes.'' If you two held eye contact right now, you would be receiving a very alarming death stare from him.

But that was not his response presently.

Instead, Charles smacked your ass for that comment.

''Did you j-just spank me?!'' You choked at the sound of his hand colliding with your ass.

He just touched you.

There.

Charles' hand burnt to do it again if only to hear that little gasp you made when his palm slammed your flesh.

Returning the favor, you smack his ass hard.

He almost dropped you from the shock of it all, but he finally recovered with a loud laugh.

''Ugh! You weren't supposed to like that!''

Charles took a breath to collect himself.

''I hate you so mu--.'' Your sentence was cut by Charles dropping you on the soft surface of the bed.

The corners of his mouth lifted at the sight of you like that.

''I do find your wicked statements entertaining.'' Leaving you alone to make yourself comfortable, he went in the opposite direction of the bed and pulled the blankets to make enough room for his body.

When you turned around, you saw him already drowned in the mattress while facing you.

''I still need those deep conversations before sleeping.'' You said and his pupils were swollen.

''What do you want to talk about, Sunshine?'' Charles questioned and his dimples were charmingly placed on his reddened cheeks. You extended your hand to reach for the light switch and turned it off.

Sharing beds as kids never grew to something more than a platonic activity both of you really enjoyed. It had to be kept that way. You two couldn't ruin your unique friendship. He knew that too, even though the look in his eyes declared something... something entirely different.

''You look beautiful even in the dark, (y/n).'' His voice was husky, he blood immediately frozing in you.

''Charles, are you flirting with me?'' His eyes moved to your lips for a brief moment and he hoped, he really hoped, you didn't notice it, but you did. And things initiated to complicate in your mind.

''You finally noticed?'' He murmured as if he didn't want anybody else to hear his thoughts. ''You're pretty much the only reason I turn on my phone in the morning, hoping for a message or a call, (y/n).''

''Charles, I can't, we are--I--''

''Shh--'' He silenced you by bringing his hand gently to cover a part of your lips. ''(y/n), I think I have fallen in love with you.''

Your mind stopped working. ''Then k-kiss me.'' Your response was somehow hesitant.

''The problem is,'' He said as he leaned in. ''If I kiss you, I don't think I'll be able to stop.''

''Who says I'd want you to stop?'' His gaze was penetrating, as if he tried to read your soul, your thoughts, the feelings you kept well-hidden...

He leaned in more, so carefully, hearts beating between you two. He was so close, so close and you weren't able to feel your wobbly legs anymore. You couldn't feel your fingers or the cold or the rain outside because all you could feel was him.

Charles connected his lips with yours. His hands found their way around your cheeks and moved closer just to sense you press against his chest.

He tasted like sugary chocolate and the sweetness made your heart explode.

Your hands were instantly in his hair, pulling him even closer, filling the gap to expore his mouth with your tongue as the raindrops echoed on the windows. Charles groaned between your lips.

He pulled away to whisper. ''I've been waiting so many years to do this, (y/n).'' Charles' eyes glistened and he thought about all those times he let himself picture you two like this to ease his mood. ''Come with me to Monaco. Please, (y/n), you're all I need.'' Charles pleaded and you could understand how much he meant his words. He craved you there. With him. In every race. He was not willing to make memories without you by his side anymore.

You smiled. ''As long as you let me re-decorate your house there. Damn, it looked terrible from the photos.''

His voice was so low. He was going to be the death of you. ''Our house, baby.'' Charles corrected you and placed a kiss on your forehead. ''Our house.''

Leaning forward, he touched his lips to yours. He kissed you and forgot to breathe. It didn't seem significant to him at the time.

You were all he ever needed. All he would ever want. And you were his now. Solely, exclusively his.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #f1 drivers #f1 ferrari #f1 #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz jr #f1 memes #lando norris #lewis hamilton #max verstappen #charles leclerc edit #charles leclerc #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader

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sadisticpussies · 8 months

Text

He’s in Las Vegas, exasperatedly laboring through hour three of his eight hour shift as a bartender at the Herbs & Rye restaurant — his tolerance for the day had already exceeded its limit after an unfortunate encounter with a group of white collar men who’d made a complaint to his manager about his poor work ethic and his uncanny sarcasm.

His boss, Thomas, had pulled him to the side to quietly reprimand him, sternly reminding Shawn that he was on strike two and if he were to get another complaint from one more customer that his employment would be terminated. It’s not like he necessarily needed this job because just like the others, they’d been temporary; sufficing him just enough for food and for him to save enough so he can move onto the next town.

But he’s only been here for a week; barely managing to save enough to survive off of anything except for microwaveable tv dinners and canned ravioli due to the lackluster minimum wage. He couldn’t afford to lose this job so quickly, especially considering that he was planning on going to Tijuana and already had an itinerary full of mischief that required at least $1,000 to indulge in.

He’s fixing a customer another drink; Stacy, who’d stumbled in an hour earlier solemnly confessing to him about her recent discovery of her husband’s infidelity, she’d chugged down to full glasses Smirnoff gulping them down without a burning wince as she continuously divulged about her marital problems when he heard Thomas beckoning his name in attention.

“Spencer, how many times have I told you about the rules against personal calls while on the clock?” He was sauntering up to Shawn, irritation’s evident across his face as he points a finger at him. “You’re treading on a very thin line here,” He forewarns, much to Shawn’s confusion.

“Personal call?” He wasn’t expecting anyone to call; the only person who knows where he currently is is his mother and he knows that the retreat she had gone to didn’t allow cellphones of any kind for her to make a phone call to him.

Thomas wasn’t amused by Shawn’s confusion, his irritation only accrued as he rolled his eyes and pointed his thumb over his shoulder where the kitchen was. “It’s some guy saying he’s your father. Said he needed to talk to you. Make it quick.” He avers, narrowing his eyes at Shawn before turning away to attend to a customer who has his glass raised midair and calls out for a refill.

Shawn’s confusion heightens as he ponders on why his father was suddenly seeking contact with him. It’s been four years since he’s last seen him; the communication between then was minimal with it being mostly brief exchanges of Shawn assuring his father that yes he is alive and no he hadn’t done something outlandish like join a cult as his father often presumed.

It was never long before their conversations transitioned into arguments — his father’s disdain about Shawn’s abrupt decision to leave after high school instead of attending college or enrolling in the police academy and Shawn’s disdain about his father ruining their family by divorcing his mother was always the reason. They’d bicker; spewing accusations and hurtful insults at each other until one of them got too tired of arguing and would hang up.

His mother would often call to check in, inquiring about his health and safety, avid to hear about what new sites he’s seen in his travels. And like always she’d try to absolve the tension between him and his father, attempting to convince Shawn to seek out contact with him first and have an actual conversation (that didn’t include arguing) but her efforts were futile because Shawn was always haste to refuse, still too upset with his father to even think about reconciliation.

He already felt drained from today, dealing with Thomas and the restaurant full of rude and entitled customers he doesn’t think he has the energy to argue with his father. He assures Thomas of a quick return before sauntering off to the back to retrieve the phone. He picks it up, pressing one hand against his ear to shield the noisiness ricocheting from the front.

“Dad, whatever this is about I can’t deal with it right now. I’m at work—” He peers up, seeing Thomas impatiently tapping his finger against his watch as he mouthed hurry up. Shawn nods, turning away as he rolls his eyes in frustration. “I’ve gotta get back,”

“Shawn,”

“Dad—I have to go,” He avers, removing the phone from his ear and preparing to hang it back on its hook until he hears something that makes him halt. He brings the phone back up to his ear, exhaling a trembling breath. “W-What did you just say?”

He’d heard him faintly, only hearing the end of his father’s sentence but that’s all he needed to be immediately drawn back into the conversation. Gus had emanated from his father’s mouth, it was a name that had solemnly become unrecognizable to him over the span of these few years. Just like his father, Shawn had ceased much of the communication with Gus as well; only sending emails, postcards and letters to him twice every month to fill him in on the current adventures in his life.

The strain in their friendship wasn’t intentional. Shawn escaped from Santa Barbara the day after graduating hoping to find some semblance of meaning in his life. His mother had just left and Gus was scheduled to leave for college afterwards, Shawn felt like he didn’t have a reason to stay in the place that took everyone he loved away from him. He’s thought about returning back, but he relented and succumbed to his fears of facing Gus again; knowing that it wouldn’t be easy to reconcile after leaving him for so long.

He hates himself for leaving like that; abrupt and impulsively, without even saying goodbye to Gus. He shudders at to think about what Gus thinks of him — how angry and upset and hurt he probably was to wake up the next morning and hear from his father that Shawn had left.

He’s never been good at goodbyes, he hates them. But he knows Gus at least deserved that.

There’s a lump that thickens and expands in his throat, his hands shake as he clutches the phone. He’s trying to settle his nerves but the pounding in his ears is so loud that it’s hard to hear what his fathers saying. He didn’t need to hear much because after the words “Gus” and “accident” were mentioned, Shawn was already hanging up the phone and untangling the knot from the apron that was tied around his waist. His hands were shaking so much that he fumbled with the knot, cursing loudly in frustration as he pulled and tugged at it.

He hears the heavy gait of footsteps approaching behind him that’s accompanied by the shrilly timbre of Thomas’ voice, “It’s been five minutes now, you need to get out there and…where do you think you’re going?” He questions, perching his hands akimbo as he watched Shawn toss the apron aside then hurriedly retreat to the break room.

He returns seconds later, his helmet and jacket in hand.

Shawn’s mind feels skewed; he’s panicking, can barely focus on anything at the moment and there are tears gathering in the back of his pupils blurring his vision. “I uh, I have to go. My best friend, he’s been in an accident and I have to go see him.” He shrugs his arms through the jacket, patting the right pocket and digging inside to retrieve his keys.

“Go?” Thomas inquired in bewilderment; completely apathetic at Shawn’s earlier sentiments. “We’re short staffed tonight and we don’t have anyone to cover your shift. You can’t go!”

And if Shawn wasn’t stretched on time and wasn’t desperately trying to hurry up to Gus he would’ve vehemently spewed a few derogatory remarks at Thomas for his lack of consideration and human decency. But instead, he only brushes past Thomas as he makes his abrupt departure out of the back door.

…

He’s certain that he’s broken every road law known to man; making illegal passings through lanes, squeezing past rows of cars stuck in traffic and accelerating the motorcycle to a speed he didn’t even know it could reach as he reeved up the gas and sped down the highway. He arrives outside of the hospital a few hours later, hurriedly turning off the ignition and climbing off of the bike after finding an empty parking space.

He takes off in a sprint towards the front entrance inadvertently pushing past a man that’s hobbling on a pair of crutches — who curses loudly at Shawn when he nearly loses his balance and stumbles clumsily.

“Jackass!” The man scolded; the screeching of his crutches dragging across the tiled floors ricochets throughout the room.

He absentmindedly disregards the man’s reprimand as he ran towards the nurse’s station. The woman behind the desk is occupied on the phone, alternating between typing on the keyboard of her computer and filing patient reports. When she looks up at notices Shawn, she holds her finger up in the air and murmurs “one moment,” before continuing her conversation.

Shawn’s impatience immediately wears thin, her conversation has been going on too long and she’s yet to bother acknowledging him again. He’s tempted to interrupt her conversation and demand that she attend to his needs, but he purses his lips in a thinned frown to prevent himself from projecting his anger onto her and continued to (im)patiently wait. After what felt like an eternity, the nurse’s conversation ends and she’s putting the phone back on its hook and greeting him in welcome.

“Hello, sir. How may I help you?”

“I need to see someone who was admitted a few hours ago; his name is Burton Guster. He was in an accident and I have to see him.”

The nurse nods as her fingers type deftly onto the keyboard again. “He’s still getting looked over so you’ll have to wait,” She informs him before directing him towards the waiting area.

Shawn slumps into one of the rigid-cushioned chairs, with his leg bouncing and his teeth nervously biting at his nails, he stares at the round clock that’s hung decoratively on the alabaster colored walls, heeding at the hands as they ticked with each passing minute.

He’s trying to focus: his mind repeats a litany of he’s okay, to distract himself from the possibilities that awaited. Gus is okay because he had to be — because Shawn knows that the universe wouldn’t punish him so cruelly like this, it wouldn’t take his best friend from him in such a macabre way. It wouldn’t do this knowing that Shawn hasn’t had a chance to apologize yet.

No.

Gus is okay.

He wouldn’t accept any other fate.

…

His ass has started to get numb from sitting in the chair for so long and his impatience starts withering again. It’s been nearly two hours already and there has yet to be any developments regarding Gus status. Shawn’s been getting up and walking to the nurses station every fifteen minutes asking if Gus had been moved out of surgery and into a room yet but every time she only tells him that she’s only allowed to disclose that information to immediate family. He understands that it’s hospital protocol and whatnot but he’s becoming more and more peeved.

He’s offered some sense of relief when he looks towards the front entrance and sees Mr. and Mrs. Guster trekking through the doors. The same worry and panic that paralyzed him was written all over their countenances as well, Mrs. Guster was sobbing as she held tightly onto her husband’s arm.

They exchange a few words with the nurse and before he knows it, he’s seeing the door towards the back being buzzed open.

Shawn hurriedly clambers to his feet and approaches the Gusters.

“Mr. and Mrs. G!” They both halt at the exclamation of their names, turning around to see who was seeking their attention. There’s a look of aghast when they see Shawn standing athwart from them.

“Shawn?” Mrs. Guster asks, voice gruff and scratchy from all of the crying she’d done. She brings the wad of tissue that was in her other hand, up to her red nose and dabs away the snot that spilled. “What are you doing here?”

He winces at the incredulity behind her words. It saddens him knowing that his parents are this surprised that he showed up. He knows he hasn’t been around much these past few years but surely they had to know that something as vital as this was going to incite haste Shawn’s return. But with the way they’re looking so perplexed at him, like he’s a stranger, instead of their son’s childhood best friend that they’ve known for years says otherwise.

(He’d dwell on this heartbreaking realization later. He had to make sure Gus was okay first.)

“My dad called and told me what happened. I came to see him. Did anyone tell you anything? Is-Is he okay?”

They share a brief look like they’re wary of disclosing the information to him. It fucking hurts that he’s suddenly become this outsider to them as if he wasn’t an intricate part of Gus’ life. He did leave but why did they act as if his existence hadn’t meant anything to them or Gus?

“He’s stable and awake,” Mr. Guster finally admits, thankfully easing Shawn’s concerns. “They said that it was okay to go see him,”

He nods, giving them a pleading look that begged them to allow him to accompany them to the back. Because he doesn’t know how much longer he can sit here waiting, and although he knows that they’ve assured him that Gus was safe, Shawn wouldn’t be fully content until he actually saw Gus and could confirm it himself.

Mr. Guster sighs, looking down at his wife before averting his eyes back onto Shawn. “You’re welcome to come back if you’d like.”

And that’s all he needed to hear before he’s following behind them as they lead the way down the corridor to Gus’ room.

Mrs. Guster approaches first, bringing her hand up midair and rapting a gentle knock against the door. A few seconds pass by before they hear a rasped, “Come in,” that she her pulling at the handle and swinging the door open.

Albeit relief calms him when he actually sees Gus, Shawn could also feel his throat baring and his eyes watering at the sight of Gus. It’s been four years and six months since he’s seen him; he still looked the same but his face has chiseled and he’s grown into his features. He’s got more hair since the last time Shawn’s seen him; hair that’s styled in a hightop boxed coif. Shawn sidestepped around Mrs. Guster and gauges a fuller view at Gus — he’s sprawled out on the small hospital bed, his legs are dangling off of the edge swallowing up the last inch of space that’s available. He’s got a thin wool blanket swathed across his lap, his arms wrapped in a cast that’s balanced on a small pillow that’s tucked underneath for leverage.

Gus is laid with his eyes fluttered close, nearly half dazed from the medication they fed him. Upon hearing the knocking and his mother’s loud sob of relief, he opens them, blinking rapidly trying to clear his fogged vision. He smiles sheepishly at his parents, but then his eyes wander behind them at Shawn and his smile is substituted for a moue, causing Shawn to recoil away slightly.

He lowers his eyes, abashed and chagrined, condemning himself for foolishly thinking Gus would be elated at his return.

“Shawn?” And it’s so pathetic but his breath hitches when he hears his name fall off of Gus’ lips, at the way he could practically hear the emotion through his tenor as he called out to him. It’s surprisingly tender and soft and Shawn can’t remember the last time he’s ever heard such affection in someone’s voice.

Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined things between them like he assumed.

He remains stood off to the side as the Guster’s bombarded their son with questions, inquiring about the accident and assessing his wounds. Gus repeatedly assured them that he was fine, stating that it was an accident that occurred after another car abruptly drove out into traffic. Shawn smiled adoringly as he watched as Gus’ mother attentively adjusted Gus’ pillows and maneuvered around the small room fixing things.

“Mom, I’m okay,” Gus reiterated for the fifth time that day after his mother tried to buzz a nurse in when Gus placed too much weight on his arm and yelped out in pain when he felt the throbbing pain shooting up his arm.

“It certainly didn’t sound like you’re okay!” She laments, frowning as her finger hovered over the big, red button, contemplating if she should defy against her son’s wishes and call for the nurse to look over him regardless of his asks.

“I just moved too quick that’s all. I promise.” She looked at him disbelieving, knowing that he was probably only saying that to alleviate her worries. Nonetheless, she conceded and had followed behind her husband when he led them out of the room to grab some coffee from the cafeteria.

When the Guster’s leave, it’s just him and Gus alone. Shawn’s still standing hovered by the doorway with his hands shoved inside the front pockets of his jeans and his eyes shyly meets Gus’. He wants to speak, to go over and throw his arms around Gus and tell him that he’s glad he’s okay, but he feels like his feet are cemented to the ground and his tongue feels so thick in his mouth that it causes his throat to dry and he’s suddenly struggling to form a coherent sentence.

It’s Gus that finally breaks the silence between them. He’s shifting on the bed again, trying to maneuver around to a more comfortable laying position and ends up inadvertently hitting his arm against the bed’s railing that has him wincing in pain again.

“I’m good,” He’s haste to assure Shawn whose eyes widened in worry and feet managed to miraculously find their strength to move as he was already at Gus’ bedside, reaching for his arm to help him. His hands quickly retract at Gus’ words and are being shoved back into his pockets again. Silence lingers between them again only briefly before Gus begins speaking again. “How’d you find out?” He murmurs softly in curiosity.

“My dad,”

Gus eyebrows furrow in an indiscernible gesture. He reaches forward, grabbing at the small cup full of ice water. “Right. Well, you didn’t have to come all the way back here. I’m sure you’re eager to go back to Washington or wherever you’re at now.” There’s no hostility or malice embedded in Gus’ words. It’s just a melancholic lilt that Shawn recognizes that has him guilt ridden and apologetic. His absence has made Gus think that he’s stopped caring for/about him when that was furthest from the truth.

“Gus—” He begins, but Gus is already interrupting him rebutting otherwise.

“It’s fine, Shawn. I’m okay. It’s just a broken arm, nothing serious.”

At this, Shawn guffaws in frustration because how could Gus trivialize this? He doesn’t know the sheer terror Shawn felt when he heard about the accident, how he was afraid that he would lose him and now here Gus was just brushing everything off in nonchalance and trying to push him away. And he tries not to but he does get angry with Gus, because how could he truly think that Shawn didn’t care about him?

“No, it’s not okay. I came here because I was worried about you, Gus. I was scared that you’d—” He shakes his head, swallowing down the remainder of that sentence. It was too painful to think let alone vocalize aloud. “I know that I haven’t been here but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you,”

He sees Gus’ mouth purse and his eyebrows furrow, like he’s contemplating on whether he actually believes Shawn’s words. He’s feeling defeated, already self deprecating at how he’d managed to single-handedly ruined the only stable relationship in his life.

He wouldn’t be Shawn if he didn’t fuck up good things.

But then, Gus is looking at him and his eyes soften as he murmurs, “Thanks for coming,”

…

Shawn stays in Santa Barbara for the rest of the week. He stays in a motel downtown, refusing his father’s offer to stay at home instead. That was one relationship he wasn’t as avid to reconcile with just yet, there was still unresolved issues that resided between them, issues that he held his father solely responsible for that he wasn’t ready to address.

He was here for Gus and wanted to focus on that not any other issues.

The first day, they’d caught up more with each other, telling the other everything that wasn’t mentioned in their emails or letters. It was bittersweet listening to Gus rave about his college experience, hearing about all the friends he’s made, all the things he’s done.

Shawn felt sad that he hadn’t been there with Gus to experience those things with. He remembers in middle school, they’d talk about all the parties they would go to whenever they got to college, how they’d be roommates (because they knew no one else could handle living either of them; Gus was too OCD and Shawn was messy and snored loudly, or at least that’s what he’s heard from Gus.) then graduate and get married and live next door to each other.

At the time of his departure, he didn’t consider his leaving as a blunder in their plan. He’d been too focused on running away from his problems to even think about that.

Gus then told him about a new job that he recently started as a pharmaceutical salesman that apparently paid more than all of Shawn’s minimum wage jobs combined. It paid enough for Gus to rent one of those luxury apartments with a gym and a pool that Shawn’s always wanted.

He was happy for Gus, really.

He was also really fucking sad that he missed out on so much.

On the second day, they spent the entire day playing board and card games — apparently time at college gave Gus enough time to learn how to gamble because he managed to beat Shawn in poker twice but Shawn redeemed himself in Monopoly and Candyland.

Shawn snuck in some Chinese takeout that they secretly ravished after Gus complained about the hospital food. The nurse stumbled in upon their slaughter and reprimanded them for it much to their amusement. Afterwards, they watched reruns of Three Stooges and it was so ridiculous and overly cartoonish in its comedy but they laughed at every single joke.

Gus ended up succumbing to his exhaustion a little later in the night, laying with his head tucked on the pillow as he breathed softly through his parted lips. Shawn looked over at Gus and felt his heart clench as he inwardly pondered how he could ever reconcile with the fact that he’d willingly gone four years without his best friend, without the person he cared for the most in the entire world.

It’s a question he thinks he’ll never be able to answer.

On the third day, things between them become familiar and normal. It starts to feel like they’re Shawn and Gus again as a whole not as separates anymore and Shawn doesn’t think he’s ever been happier than he is right now.

On the fourth day is when Shawn realizes a few things. They’re in Gus’ room again and he’s finally being discharged after being cooped up in the fight fitted room and barely surviving off of watered down meatloaf and stale bread for nearly a week. Shawn’s in the room, skimming through a magazine waiting for Gus to finished getting dressed so that they could go out into the front while they waited for his parents, when he hears the bathroom door being pulled open.

“Shawn?” He looks up to see Gus’ head poked out of the door, his expression flushed as his chest heaved. “I need your help. I’m trying to finish getting ready but this damn cast makes everything harder.”

Shawn set the magazine down as he clambered to his feet. “Are you sure you want my help because you wouldn’t even take off your shirt in front of me when we used to go swimming,” He teases lightheartedly, smiling at the flustered expression in Gus’ face as he says this.

“That was different. I was younger and still getting used to my developing body. Just come in here!” He avers, grabbing Shawn’s arm and tugging him into the bathroom as he closes the door behind them.

It’s not like he was staring per se, but he’d certainly taken heed at Gus body. He was standing in the middle of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that complimented him fittingly, the material snug around his hips. He’d apparently started working out during some time in between his adolescence and early adulthood because Gus now had abs that were chiseled and taut; and when he turned around to pick up his shirt that had fallen to the floor, Shawn could see the muscles in his back flex as he moved.

His eyes appreciatively gauge at Gus’ seemingly fit physique wondering when the hell did that happen.

Shawn hurriedly averts his eyes, managing to look away just before Gus turns back around to face him. “I thought it wouldn’t be so bad with a broken arm but this fucking sucks,” He complains, extending the shirt out to Shawn who hikes up the hem and shimmies it over Gus’ head, tugging it down and over his torso.

He ignores the flutter in his stomach when his fingers brush over Gus’ stomach.

“Do you need me to stay over and help you for a while?” He offers, his mind only briefly wanders back on his job knowing that he would probably be unemployed by the time he returns which meant that Tijuana was going to be postponed for the time being but staying with Gus was worth it.

Gus smiles sheepishly, looking over at Shawn. “Thanks, but I know you’re probably ready to go back to Las Vegas.”

Shawn pulls the shirt all the way down over Gus’ abdomen, frowning a bit at his words. “No, I mean I’m not in a rush to go back. I can stay, I want to stay here for you if you need me.”

Please need me.

“Are you planning on seeing your dad?” Gus posits in curiosity, seemingly subverting the topic of conversation so quickly that it has Shawn wondering why Gus was so hesitant in letting him stay over. He knows that it’s still going to take some time to fully get all of Gus’ trust back but he thought that these past few days were showing some progress.

“Uh, no. I think it’s best if we stay away from each other for the time being.”

“It’s been four years. How much longer do you need?” Gus rebuttals; and okay, maybe he’s right but his relationship with his father was complicated and definitely something that he didn’t want to talk or think about right now.

Gus sighs, “The only reason I ask is because I’ve seen him around Shawn. As much as you think he doesn’t like you, he seems pretty miserable to me that you’re gone.”

Shawn guffaws softly at this, “Yeah, right.” He murmurs disbelieving, reminiscing on the fight they’d had the night before he left home where Henry explicitly said that he couldn’t wait until Shawn left because then he wouldn’t have to deal with the headache of him being around anymore. “He doesn’t miss me, Gus. He’s glad that I’m gone, trust me.”

Gus only shakes his head before eventually dropping the conversation, knowing that it was futile in trying to convince Shawn of otherwise. “Alright…this might be a little more complicated and uncomfortable,” He surmises, nudging his chin outwardly towards the pair of sweatpants that his mother had packed for him.

Shawn grabbed the sweatpants and stood in front of Gus. He extended the sweatpants out, making it easy for Gus to slide a leg in each pant leg. Gus nearly tumbles and instinctively reaches a hand out, resting it onto Shawn’s waist to anchor his fall. “Sorry,” Gus murmurs, fitting his other leg into the pant leg.

Shawn tugged at the waistband, pulling it further up Gus’ legs when he’s gotten them both all the way in the sweats. His fingers inadvertently brush against Gus’ cock when he’s adjusting the sweatpants around his waist and he feels his face immediately blush in a deep crimson color. He gauges a quick look up at Gus, peeking at him underneath the wisps of his eyelashes — Gus is looking up at the ceiling, biting on his lower lip as he avoided Shawn’s gaze.

“Sorry, I was—”

“No it’s—”

“—I wasn’t trying to—”

“—Shawn—”

“Gus!” Both Shawn and Gus pause at the shrilly shriek of someone calling out his name. They exchange confused looks until realization dawns upon Gus who’s now using his freehand to roughly pull his pants up the remainder of the way. He’s reaching for the doorknob and is making a haste egress seconds later, walking out to greet the approaching woman.

Shawn follows behind Gus out of the bathroom, barely making it halfway into the room before he’s blindsided with the sight of Gus and a woman kissing vehemently in the middle of the room. Gus has his arm around her waist while she’s got her hands on his face, pulling him closer as their kisses became more feverish. “What are you doing here?!” Gus asks, his sentences barely coherent between the woman’s kisses.

“You didn’t think I was going to not come see you, did you?!” She mutters, pecking his lips thrice before eventually pulling away to look him over. “Aw, my poor baby,” She coos, brushing her thumb over his cheek as he leans into her touch.

Shawn stood there quietly watching their embrace. Throughout the entire duration of the past few days, Gus has never once mentioned having a girlfriend or dating anyone. So, it’s a little surprising to see him with someone like this, holding and kissing her so affectionately. He harrumphed softly, capturing their attention because they’d gotten so enraptured in each other that they nearly forgot about his presence.

The woman peers over Gus’ shoulder and looks at Shawn. She smiles, wide and toothy, bringing her hand mid-air as she gestures a wave. “Hi, I’m Mira!”

The first impression of her is that she’s unnecessarily cheery (he knows he sounds like a grinch saying this, but how can someone be this enthusiastic all of the time even he has his limits and often broods to balance it all out.)

Shawn waves back, thinning his lips into a feeble smile. “Shawn,” His eyes linger downward to Gus’ hand as it descends to her lower backside. She giggles, playfully nudging at his shoulder before shifting her attention back into Shawn.

“Shawn! Do you want to see the ring my pookiebear Gus got for me?” She gasps, already making her way over towards him much against Gus’ dismay as he reaches for her to attempt to stop her with hushed exclaims of ‘no, no, no, Mira!’ but she maneuvers out of his reach and saunters up to Shawn, holding her hand up in the air and displaying a small diamond ring that’s decorating her finger. “He got it for me after the wedding. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Shawn looks up at Gus who gives him an apologetic smile and only shrugs in response.

His mind couldn’t even begin to fathom the fact that Gus is married. Not only did he neglect to mention the fact that he’d been dating, but that he liked the woman enough to marry her as well at a wedding that he didn’t receive an invitation to or have any knowledge about. Or the painful realization of Gus apparently not wanting Shawn to know about it either from the way he tried to stop Mira from telling him about it.

Shawn couldn’t believe that this is what their friendship looked like now; hidden secrets and minimal communication between them.

If you would’ve told younger Shawn that he would end up losing Gus as a friend when they’re older, he would laughed in your face at the ridiculous absurdity of that comment. Adult Shawn isn’t laughing, he’s heartbroken and upset. He swallows the thick lump that’s stuck in his throat, nodding his head as she masqueraded his heartbreak behind a false smile.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s really great.”

Mira giggles again before practically skipping her way back over to Gus, “Are you almost ready to go? I told your mom we’d go by the house for dinner tonight since she let me pick you up instead,”

He nods, “Yeah. I just have to sign a few discharge papers first.”

Mira nodded as she grabbed Gus’ duffle bag and slung the straps over her shoulder. “I’ll go take this to the car,” She informs him, pressing one last kiss on his lips before departing from the room.

When she’s gone, Gus turns to Shawn. “Sorry about Mira, I know she can be a little eccentric and an acquired taste to some people,”

That’s one way to put it. Shawn ruminates haughtily. “She seems nice. Where’d you two meet?”

“In Mexico last year. I was on spring break; me and a couple of friends took a trip down there for a few days. I met her at a bar, we got drunk and next thing I know were at a chapel with a donkey as my best man.”

“Wow. That sounds very…unlike you,” Shawn laments and Gus frowns a bit at this furrowing his brows. He knows he can’t argue against it because he knows Shawn’s right; Gus wasn’t as adventurous and spontaneous enough to do something like elope with some woman he barely knows. That wasn’t his Gus.

“Yeah, well.”

“And I’m assuming that your parents don’t know either? Because knowing your mother she’d probably have a heart attack if she found out that you eloped instead of having a traditional wedding,”

At this, Gus only smacks his teeth instead of answering with a verbal response which tells Shawn that he’s right. “Thanks for visiting and for staying here with me. I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you around, Shawn.”

…

It’s been two days since he’s last seen Gus. He’s been trying to give him time to settle in after the accident before going to confront him but Shawn had grown exasperated of waiting.

He needed to talk to Gus now, before it’s too late to salvage what’s left of their tainted relationship. He doesn’t know Gus’ new address to his apartment but he remembers Mira mentioning them staying at Gus’ parents house so he chances that as where he was in hopes that it would be true.

He drives through the city, making his way to his childhood neighborhood. He peers over at his house and notices his dad’s truck parked in the driveway, he looks away and drives up to the Guster’s house instead, parking his motorcycle on the side as he cut off the engine. He takes off the helmet and sets it on the rest before making his way up the driveway. Reaching the front porch, he brings his hand up and knocks on the door then stands there waiting patiently for someone to answer.

He’s standing there for a few moments before he finally hears the sound of the door unlocking. He’s relieved to see that it’s Gus who answers the door, but confusion stretches across Gus’ features when he sees Shawn standing there. Nonetheless, he pulls the door open and steps aside allowing Shawn entrance.

“I thought you would’ve been back in Vegas by now,”

Shawn shakes his head as he walks into the living room. He stands there waiting and watching as Gus locked the door then followed behind him. “No, still here. I came by because,” He shakes his head, sighing softly, “we gotta talk man. Everything’s weird and wrong between us.”

Gus folded his arms across his chest, “What do you mean?”

He wants to scream at Gus’ blatant obliviousness because how couldn’t he feel them drifting further apart? Was Shawn the only one who missed the closeness between them? Had his absence inadvertently pushed Gus away and into the arms of Mira instead, where she’s been acting as a temporary replacement in his life? All of his emotions are scattered around and has him beginning to panic. Did Gus really not care that they weren’t best friends anymore?

Running his hands through his hair, Shawn emanates a deep suspire. “I mean this, us!” He gestures a hand between them, continuing with his spiel. “It’s like I want to try to rekindle things with us but you’re pushing me away. We don’t talk. We don’t hang out, you didn’t even want me to know that you were married! I just don’t get how we went from best friends to now being strangers but I hate it because I miss you, Gus.”

“We aren’t strangers, people just change, Shawn.” He doesn’t know how many times he can keep hearing this. This trivialization that Gus is doing is infuriating him profusely. “And we aren’t as close as we were because you decided to leave. It’s kinda what you do. So, excuse me if I’m a little reluctant to let you back into my life,” Gus laments with a halfhearted shrug, that has Shawn’s heart closing in on itself.

Gus’ feelings were fair but couldn’t he see that Shawn was at least trying?

“I’m trying—”

“You don’t need to Shawn. It’s pointless. You’ll be gone again probably for longer next time and we’ll just be right back where we started.”

Shawn blinks, a little hurt by Gus’ apropos. “So that’s it? You don’t even want to try?”

Gus sighs, lowering his eyes as he shakes his head. “Shawn… Mira’s coming over any second now and—”

“I don’t care about Mira! I care about you and us,”

Gus scoffs, rolling his eyes at Shawn’s sentiments. “If you cared you wouldn’t have left me for four years! It took me being in a hospital to get you back here! And now you’re what? Trying to make up for abandoning me, that’s so like you.” His words are venomous as they emanate from his mouth and Shawn’s taken aback by the visceral haughtiness of it. They’ve argued before but it’s never been to this extent, never this real and scary.

“I abandoned you? You were abandoning me first! You couldn’t wait to leave here and go to college to meet all your new friends,” Shawn rebuttals, unable to contain the emotions that’s been stewing inside of him.

Prior to his leaving, he remembers the solemn feeling he felt when he would hear Gus raving about college, how excited he was to meet new people. All Shawn could think about was how easily his existence was going to be erased from Gus’ life the moment he met new people, how he and Santa Barbara would become a distant memory as he progressed into this new stage in his life.

Sure, it would only have been a few hours away, but he and Gus had never been separated before and his worries had gotten the better of him so he left because of his fear of losing Gus and because he’d already lost his mother.

“Don’t do that. Because I was only going a few hours away, you left the state! You didn’t even say goodbye you just left me Shawn! And you didn’t even have the decency of calling for a year afterwards.”

Shawn lowers his eyes, abashed. “It was too hard. I didn’t — I couldn’t—”

Gus throws his hand in the air in defeat, baffled by Shawn’s capability of turning this situation around and perceiving it like he was the one that got left instead of Gus. It’s always been this back and forth but Gus had grown tired of it; of sheltering his emotions when it came to Shawn.

“It couldn’t have possibly been that hard because you stayed away for four years,”

“You think it was easy being away from you?” Shawn accosts incredulously.

There’s no way Gus could even begin to fathom how hard it’s been, how much it’s killed him not being around. None of this has been easy, especially not now standing here and listening to Gus express his feelings of abandonment after he left. He wanted to make things right or at least try but Gus was adamant in his stubbornness, setting these walls that has Shawn kept at a distance.

His throat’s clicking and he can feel his pupils welding with solemn tears again. “I wanted to come back to you but I’ve been afraid of this, of you pushing me away. I don’t know what to do to prove to you how fucking sorry I am but I am, Gus. Please. I can’t deal with you hating me like this,” He begs so pathetic and desperate that Shawn barely recognizes his own voice.

“I don’t hate you, Shawn,” Gus clarifies; and for a brief moment, Shawn thinks that maybe they’ll be okay, that their friendship hadn’t completely demised like he assumed. But then, “I just don’t trust you anymore and I can’t have someone in my life that I can’t trust.” And he feels his heart plummeting to his feet as defeat and despair mulls over him.

…

On Saturday, he returns to Vegas.

He has to beg Thomas for his job back, picking up double shifts for the next two weeks to make up for walking out. He doesn’t go to Tijuana but instead drives down to Texas with a few guys he met at the restaurant who were heading there for a festival.

#shawn and gus #psych fanfiction #shawngus #dule hill #james roday rodriguez #fanfic #psych usa #writing more on a03 #decided to publish this bc it’s so angsty #angst #tumblr post #shawn x gus #burton guster #shawn spencer #writing psych fics in 2023 #unserious but oh well #hyper fixating on them again #send help #babies

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perpetualmildillness · 8 months

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Ghostsoap but make it Skyrim! I've seen someone else's ideas about this, but I wanted to put in my own two cents. Brainworms under the cut.

Soap is an orc, first son of the cheif of their strongholds. He... Uh. Doesn't do what's typical, and goes adventuring instead of fighting his dad to death for the name of chief. And does mercenary work instead! Either he learns destruction magic on the road, or he learns it from one of his dads wives, this detail is yet to be smoothed out, but either way, Soap needs his explosions in all AUs.

Ghost is a Nord. He is a big blond nord from Dawnstar, and he joined the Imperial army specifically to piss off his Stormcloak dad. He gets captured by the Thalmor and gets tOuRTuReD (yay trauma) and decided to quit the army after escaping the high elves. He travels around, doing odd jobs, like assassinations, for cheap. He is NOT. I REPRAT NOT PART OF THR DARK BROTHERHOOD, but he will take up jobs for them too, if one job requires a more snipery touch. Much like Soap, he maintains the sniper/sneak archer skill set from CoDMW2.

Price is a Jarl, and in the running for High King. He doesn't have his bucket hat in this AU, but he gets a crown, and they are basically the same thing. I think he would replace Bulgruuf if I made a whole fic of this, but, it is yet to be determined. Price met Ghost before he got super mega traumatised, when he wasn't even a proper soldier yet, and he was running let's to and from cities. After the whole Thalmor thing, they hung out a lot more, Ghost even acting as an advisor of sorts for a while. Price met Soap through Gaz. They have been friendly, Price going so far as to hire Soap a couple times to sort out nearby ruins and deal with problems that are a little out of the Companion's depth.

Gaz is Price's housecarl. He does a great job of making sure Price goes to bed at a semi-reasonable hour, because Price would work himself to the bone if he could. Gaz is the eldest son of silversmiths from Markarth, and so he appreciates a piece of jewellery or two. Gaz met Soap in Markarth, on one of his week long vacations to visit family, and they got on like a house on fire. I'm tempted to make Gaz an Imperial. SO I WILL!

#ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #skyrim #skyrim au

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justalonelyslytherin · 2 years

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Home Sweet Home

Pairing: Ari Levinson x female Reader

Summary: There is nothing better than the feeling of reaching home and falling into bed after a long and exhausting journey.

Warnings: fluff, just fluff.

Wordcount: 3.5k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: This was requested by @wndawtch for my 200 follower celebration. With this last request, this concludes the celebration! Thank you to everyone who participated and everyone who follows my silly little blog <3 The awesome dividers are by the fantastic @/firefly-graphics

A huge yawn pulled at her lips as she sleepily stepped up in the line of passengers waiting to exit the plane. The yellowish glow of the lights overhead them was the only source of light brightening the narrow space between the rows of seats. Outside, barely visible through the small airplane windows, it was pitch dark.

Her back was arching, stiff from sitting in the uncomfortable seats for too many hours. She had slept a couple of them but even with the nap, she felt tired from the exhausting travel. Suddenly a hand touched the middle of her bag. It was big and warm and had a comforting presence. The soft brush against her was a prompt for her to step up in the line and a reminder to stay awake. She smiled to herself before she glanced back.

Ari was crouching forward, the hulking man nearly too tall to stand upright in the cabin. He smiled at her, his features showing exhaustion similar to what she felt.

Once they finally left the plane and stood on the bridge Ari stepped up. Her hand found his, fingers hooking around and holding his hand lazily in hers. She loved to feel him at her side. He gave her hand a responding squeeze before taking the lead in bringing them into the belly of the airport. Ari knew his way around well enough. His job required him to travel all the time, so this had become almost a second home to him. There were many times she had gotten up in the middle of the night to drive to the airport. Either to drop him off or pick him up. The drop off’s were certainly much harder for her, having to part with her love and say goodbye to him. She hated coming home from the airport alone to an empty and silent house. Picking Ari up was her favorite thing. Not only because she got to reunite with him, always happily running up to him and jumping into his waiting arms, but also because their drive home would be filled with giggles and laughter and stories of his travels if he wasn’t too tired.

The halls were empty, all the shops closed for the night, and barely a soul still there, safe for the other passengers who, like them, had landed at such a late hour. When they arrived at the baggage claim the conveyor belts were motionless. No bags had yet arrived.

Another yawn left her mouth as they stood there waiting. Ari glanced over, a smirk tugging at his lips. He pulled at her arm so that she sleepily stumbled towards him, crashing into his side where he slung his arm around her. Smiling once more, she wrapped her arms around his thin waist and buried her nose in the hoodie he was wearing that smelled so deliciously like him. His scent was always so comforting to her. It had become her source of peace, a companion that she didn’t like to miss.

Even with Ari physically gone she made sure to have a freshly scented hoodie of his near her, to sleep with or simply hold when she missed him too much. She felt him lean towards her, then the soft brush of his lips against her crown before he rested his chin there. With a sigh she closed her eyes, simply enjoying the intimate moment. She could have fallen asleep then and there, the warm and comforting hug of his enough to let her body relax and give away. The only thing that stopped her from doing so was Ari swaying her slightly from side to side and humming into her ear what she was sure was the last song he had listened to during the flight.

They stayed like that, waiting for their bags until the mechanics finally awoke. With a loud thud, the belt started to move rather suddenly. Not long after that bags started to arrive through the hatch in the middle. It was then that Ari pulled away from her, causing a whine of protest to rise up in her throat.

“I know baby,” he mumbled into her hair with a chuckle, “But I need to get our bags.” Ari pressed another kiss onto her head as she pouted up at him. While he was busy pulling their suitcases off the belt, she tugged the travel pillow she had been wearing from her neck and clipped it onto her small carry-on backpack.

As there were only two suitcases that needed to be heaved off the conveyor belt it didn’t take Ari long to get them. He pulled them off without trouble. Patting over to him once he was done, she pulled out the handle of the trolley to roll it alongside her. She held her hand out towards Ari once he had done the same. Nodding towards the exit he wrapped his much bigger hand around her delicate fingers and together they walked there, the trolleys rolling beside them.

Outside of the arrivals hall, they were greeted by a chilly wind. It seeped into the cracks of her hoodie, spilling down her neck. Seeing her shiver Ari tutted and stepped closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arm, pressing her to his side and rubbing her arm with his hand. Meanwhile, his eyes scanned over the small line of cars, tracking down a taxi for them. Once he had found it he steered her towards the discreet car. Their suitcases were stored in the trunk in no time and then they were seated in the backseat on their way home. Finally.

“Almost there,” Ari mumbled towards her, sensing how worn out she was. His hand softly rubbed up and down her thigh, his thumb massaging her flesh. A small hum left her lips as she looked away from the window. Ari was already looking at her, smiling once more in that soft way that made her heart melt. Scooting closer she put her head on his shoulder and pressed her nose into his neck. She heard his breath hitch when she nuzzled against him.

“I want to shower but I’m way too tired,” she whined, rubbing her nose against the fabric of his shirt and sighing.

“Then do it tomorrow. We can shower together in the morning.”

“But the bed sheets will be musty and smelling like airport and flight sweat.” Ari chuckled, pressing another kiss onto her head before he gently angled her face towards his.

“The sheets will be musty either way from how long we were gone, sweetheart. We’ll just change them tomorrow.”

Quietly she hummed at that, not knowing what to say otherwise as her mind became too muddled with exhaustion. Instead, she nuzzled her head back onto his shoulder and looked once more out of the window. The orange glow of the streetlamps passed by at regular intervals, speckled with the random lights of other buildings around. In the background the radio quietly played, the music briefly fading out as another yawn fought its way up her throat.

At one point she had nodded off for a short portion of the drive, only waking up when Ari moved to pay the taxi driver. Slightly startled, her chin bounced up.

“We’re home,” Ari told her softly, looking down at her with loving eyes as she tiredly rubbed at hers.

“Finally. I missed it.” She mumbled as she watched him open the door and slip out. His hands came back into view, reaching into the car, holding out for her. Scooting over the seat where he had just sat, she grasped his hand and with his help exited the car. Their driver was nice enough to have stepped out too and opened the trunk to get their suitcases out.

Together they watched the car pull away when Ari put something into her hand. Opening her palm she peered down at the bundle of keys.

“Open up for me, my love?” He asked her, already bending down to take both their suitcases. She nodded and trudged up to the small gate closing off the property. Holding it open for Ari who hummed out thanks and rewarded her with a sweet kiss on the lips that had her giggling. Closing the gate as quietly as she could, she followed Ari up the small path to the front door where he was already waiting for her. Standing there on the small step before the front door, he waited patiently for her to unlock and walk in first.

The lock clicked as it turned, the door swinging open moments after to reveal the dark apartment. Shuffling in she stepped to the side to let Ari through who navigated the suitcases into their living room. The door fell closed behind them, as she was already busy pulling her shoes from her feet and lazily shoving them into the corner.

She heard more shuffling as Ari came back into the entranceway, also slipping out of his shoes. He let out a low groan as he stretched his stiff shoulders, arms lifting over his head. The move made his hoodie ride up, revealing a sliver of his toned body underneath with the small trail of hair disappearing under his sweatpants. She couldn’t help but be tempted by that view, her fingers reaching over and trailing over his tanned skin, moving further until her hands were shoved under his shirt. With a loud hum, Ari lowered his arms again and pulled her close.

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled quietly, a yawn accompanying her words. Ari chuckled and nodded, “Let’s go to bed.” It had taken them a while to reach their apartment as the airport lay quite far away. Now well into the early hours of the morning, there was nothing more for them to do but seek out the comfort of their mattress and rest their bodies.

He nudged her in the direction of their bedroom. With another sigh, her hands slipped out from under his shirt. She was nearly too sleepy to find the way on her own even if it were just a couple of steps toward the open door. Together they trotted over, Ari had his hands on her waist, guiding her sleepily disoriented steps from behind.

The spacious bed in the middle of their room had never looked more inviting than when they stepped through the threshold and turned on the lights. All she wanted to do was cross the last couple of meters and plop herself onto the bed, preferably face first. But Ari didn’t grant her that wish. Instead of going straight towards the bed, he steered her towards the side. A whine left her lips as he diverted her towards their bathroom.

“I know, I know,” he mumbled into her ear, softly pressing a kiss just behind it, “At least brush your teeth still.” Somehow he always managed to tickle out the last bit of motivation or energy from her. Ari was amazing at doing that, so much so that him changing jobs to be a motivational coach was a recurring joke in their household.

So she let him guide her further, trotting into the ensuite. A shiver shot through her body the moment her bare feet touched the cold tile floor. With a squeal, she jumped onto the small rug that was lying in front of their vanity. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ari’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. He yanked the hoodie off his frame in one smooth motion before he dropped it into the hamper.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he told her, causing her to quietly huff. He had brought her in here to brush their teeth when all she wanted was to flop down onto the bed and now he went away again. While she waited for him to come back she reached for the hair tie holding her hair in a braid. She hated flying with her hair open, it was just always in her way. The strands of hair were slightly wavy but mostly crumpled from being in the hairdo for the majority of the day but at least not heavily knotted. Brushing through with her hairbrush was easy, the few loose hairs she threw into the bin beside the vanity once she was done.

By the time she was done Ari came back into the bathroom. The moment she noticed his reflection in the mirror her head shot around. In the doorway he stood, silky pajama pants hanging low off his hips. Her eyes raked over his bare torso, following the trail of hair leading from his belly button downwards until it - together with the deep v-cut - vanished under the pants. She kept nibbling at her bottom lip and when he stepped forward into the room a small guttural sound left her lips. It was impossible to divert her eyes from his tan and well-trained body, even if she had seen it already a thousand times and even with the exhaustion pulling at her. She would never be too tired to salivate over him.

Ari only grinned at her antics, walking over to her in a confident swagger. Beside her, on the vanity, he dumped a bundle of folded clothes she hadn’t realized he'd been carrying. Before she could investigate his hands landing on her waist pulled her attention back towards him. Ari’s fingers softly knead her supple flush, pulling a purr from her. Next, he gave her a kiss, one that was too short for her liking but still distracting enough that it took her a while to understand he was tugging at her pants to get them off. Only when he sank to his knees, the pants falling along his hands downwards, she realized. He pressed a kiss to her right knee, followed by a soft tap against her foot.

Her head was still spinning from.. well everything so she was pliant in his hands, lifting her foot for him to pull the pants off and letting him repeat it with her other leg too. Reaching up to the vanity, Ari pulled the pair of sleep shorts down and guided her to step into them before he pulled them up, snuggly fitting them around her waist. His hands then snaked around her once more, pulling her against his chest where he leaned in for another kiss. This time the kiss was a little longer and it left her head spinning even more.

“Up, sweetheart,” she instructed her to lift her arms, which she did, patiently waiting for him to pull the shirt over her head.

“What a way to be treated,” she hummed, enjoying every second of him helping her undress and change. Ari grinned down at her, briefly winking before he turned around to throw her clothes into the hamper. While he did she reached behind and removed her bra. The item dangled from her finger by its strap as Ari turned back around. He eyed her intently, just the way she had looked at him moments before. Stepping up closer, a rumbling sound in his chest ignited. He pressed her against the edge of the vanity, his hands ghosting over her stomach, his thumb gently swiped just under her breast making her gasp and him sigh a little. Ari’s eyes diverted back to hers. She could see the embers of lust glimmering in them but they were overshadowed by overwhelming tiredness.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered to her a promise she knew he would fulfill.

She nodded, agreeing. “Tomorrow.”

Expertly she aimed and threw the bra into the hamper. Ari pulled the shirt from the vanity and unfolded it for her. A smile spread over her lips when she realized it was one of his. Much too big on her frame but she loved drowning in both his clothes and his scent that clung to every fiber. Easily the shirt slipped over her head, the material draping over her frame much closer to a dress than a shirt. She giggled looking up at Ari.

“I love seeing you in my things,” he rumbled proudly. It made her preen, raising her chin and smiling up at him with twinkling eyes.

“Me too.”

Cocking her head towards the vanity, Ari understood. They both turned towards it, each grabbing their toothbrush. While she held hers under the water to wet it, Ari was already opening the toothpaste. She held her brush out, eyeing him as he expertly squeezed some of the minty white paste for her. Once more he rumbled happily when she kissed his cheek as thanks.

Quietly they brushed their teeth side by side, each concentrating on the task as their tired minds kept slipping out of focus. A yawn ripped through her once more, forcing her to open her mouth mid-brushing. Ari laughed as she fought to keep the toothpaste and froth from it in her mouth, wiping at her bottom lip with the back of her hand for anything that might spill.

Through the mirror she once more eyed him. He was leaning against the vanity with the hand not brushing his teeth. The perfect height for her to lean her head on his shoulder once more. She loved to do that but most of the time Ari was simply too tall for her to do it. Glancing at her, Ari reciprocated her soft smile. Soon they descended into a giggle fit.

With minty fresh breath, they were finally ready to go to bed. Bone weary and ready to fall asleep the second her head hit the mattresses there was nothing she wanted to do more. As she stretched her tired limbs over her head she winced. The many hours in an airplane always left her uncomfortably stiff.

“I could sleep for a hundred years right about now,” she mumbled sleepily rubbing at her eyes. Ari softly smiled down at her as he watched her with a fond expression. Once more he swooped in to her aid, this time by lifting her up without a warning. With a squeal, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his narrow waist. Like a little koala, she clung to him. Ari's hands were a warm and comforting presence on her legs, reminding her that he had her safely and wouldn’t drop her.

Bending down over the bed, Ari carefully put her down. The moment her back hit the bed she let go of him, sinking into the soft pillows and sighing happily. Ari himself was still kneeling over her, watching and just about ready to climb into bed beside her.

“Lights,” she mumbled, her nose softly rubbing along his jaw. He was so close he just had to sink forward and he would be on top of her. Grunting quietly he acknowledged the bright lights over them.

“Alright. Lights,” he let his head hang, forehead resting on her shoulder before he sighed and nodded. With a groan, he pushed himself off the bed once more. The lights were out in one tap, shrouding the room in darkness.

She felt the mattress dip under his weight not long after. A smile spread on her lips as she felt his hand on her leg. Ari maneuvered himself towards her until he was slotted between her legs.

“Hi baby,” she mumbled sleepily, smiling into the darkness where she thought his head must be. It was increasingly harder for her to stay awake the longer she was lying there. The only thing keeping her still awake was Ari peppering kisses along her jaw, down her shoulder, and towards her clavicle. With a content huff, he laid down, resting his head on her chest.

She wrapped her arms around him, one hand on the back of his head and the other on his back, resting between his shoulder plates. His hair was soft as she carelessly carded through the long locks, scratching at his scalp with her fingers. With a heavy sigh from him, she could feel how he relaxed, sinking deeper into her, all the weight falling off his shoulders. Ari had a lot on his plate most of the days and being in her arms was his favorite resting place. The one space he could forget everything else.

Sleep finally caught up to them, pulling at their limbs and the edges of their consciousness, lulling them into dreamland like a siren with her song. Ari fell asleep to her fingers massaging his scalp, his face cushioned on her chest and she fell asleep to the steady rise and fall of his breath and the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

#ari levinson x reader #sly's 200 #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fluff

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sickficideas · 1 year

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hi!!! omg since ur taking suggestions maybe like a road trip sickfic idea with the dazai oda ango pm trio?

absolutely anon!!! i haven't written the dark era trio yet so i struggled a bit but i hope this is ok!!!! oda is actually really fun to write im in his brain. also this is like towards the end of dark era not that it matters much

ginger tea // oda & dazai & ango

ao3

"I don't even understand why you needed to come so badly. I'm sure both of you have been to Takasaki before," Ango grumbles as he starts his car.

"I haven't!" Dazai exclaims.

"I haven't either, actually," Oda answers.

"Well, a work visit is a weird reason to go. I can't stay long, either, I have to be back for work in Yokohama tomorrow," Ango informs the two of them. "As do the two of you, I'm sure."

Oda isn't entirely sure how he got roped into this. Ango mentioned this trip the night before during their usual meetings at Lupin, and for some reason, Dazai decided this was going to be a road trip between the three of them, and insisted Oda come along as well.

Oda doesn't mind, not really, as long as he doesn't get a call to work.

"Doesn't our resident executive have better things to do? Didn't your subordinate get arrested yesterday?" Ango asks as they enter the highway in a rather accusatory tone.

Dazai groans and throws his head back against the headrest. He's taken the backseat to himself, offering the passenger seat to Oda. He said something about how he’s never gotten to sit in the back of a car before. He’s strange. "That took up my whole day. Huge pain. No thanks to someone for not helping me…"

"There's not much I can do on that end. His criminal counts are starting to outnumber yours," Ango tells him. Oda blinks.

"Who are we talking about?" Oda asks, turning his head.

"My dog. Akutagawa," Dazai sighs.

"He's that kid with the coat?" Oda confirms, and Dazai nods. "You talk about him like he's your reckless grandson."

"He might as well be! Not nearly as well-behaved as your orphan club, Odasaku," he whines childishly. Oda isn’t sure someone like Dazai should be in charge of a teenager.

"You need to tell me about these orphans I keep hearing about," Ango insists, and Oda realizes Ango's never met them. Now is probably a good time to tell him about them.

The car trip carries on as normally as it could, and the conversations they get into are reminiscent of the ones they would have at the bar. Stories lead into other stories and anecdotes and Oda forgets they're on a four hour car trip for most of it.

Dazai starts to go quiet as time passes, though. Oda wonders if he's tired. He didn't look tired before, but he certainly does now, at least from what Oda can tell by his partially concealed face in the rear view mirror. After a while, Oda doesn't hear him quip in at all.

"Is he asleep?" Ango asks, evidently noticing the same. Oda turns his head, and sure enough, he's out. Or at least, that's what it looks like. "Sorry he dragged you into this. I'm sure you have better things to do."

"I don't mind. It's nice," Oda says. "I never get out of Yokohama these days."

"Maybe Dazai had the right idea about us switching jobs. I'm tired of traveling," Ango complains, and Oda shrugs. There's so many things he would rather do than have Ango or Dazai's jobs. He thinks them wanting his is so silly.

Ango exits the highway and pulls into a gas station, right into one of the side spots that doesn't actually require him to get any gas. Oda is confused, because he's fairly certain they're only an hour or so into the drive.

"There's someone I have to meet here. Should only be five or ten minutes," Ango says as he puts the car in park. Mysterious as always. Oda doesn’t really want to know the kinds of things he gets up to, anyway. "I'll leave the car on."

Oda's eying the gas station with a dry mouth, thinking he'll get a bottle of water. Ango slips out of the car with a briefcase, and soon enough, he’s out of his sight completely.

Oda turns around to find Dazai looking like he’s knocked out completely, but he can't see his face very well, his head is leaned against the window. He thinks he might ask him if he would like to come, but he can't bring himself to wake someone who looks so sleep deprived all the time, so he slips out of the car without a word to him.

When he returns with three water bottles in a plastic bag, he realizes the back door of the car opposite to his view is open.

Oda was certainly not expecting this sight. He can't exactly tell from this angle, approaching the car, but he's fairly certain that Dazai's no longer inside.

Oda turns the corner of the car with a hand on the pistol under his coat just to be safe, only to realize it's not that kind of situation at all. Dazai is on his knees and leaned against the car, one arm around his middle and the other leaned into the open car for some leverage to keep himself up. Oda notices the puddle of vomit below him, and he's immediately concerned.

Oda kneels down beside him and places a hand on his back, entirely unbothered by the fact that he's throwing up. Oda is far more concerned with how shaky and pale he is.

He's not sure if Dazai is simply out of it or just thinking about his much more pressing matter, but he doesn't acknowledge Oda's presence. Oda really thought he was asleep earlier, but maybe he was just putting that on.

Dazai spits out a wad of saliva that's soon followed by a groan and another mouthful of vomit splattering into the rest of the puddle.

At that point, he seems to catch wind of Oda's presence. He groans again and spits more saliva into his vomit before he decides to favor Oda to lean against instead of the car.

"I don't feel good, Odasaku," Dazai murmurs, as if that wasn't obvious. He sounds miserable. Oda can't always tell when Dazai is messing with him, but right now, it's clear he's being honest.

"Do you get car sick? Why didn't you say anything?" Oda asks, but he realizes that Dazai was asleep most of the drive before now - or at least, he seemed to be.

"I dunno," he whines. "I usually…I'm usually fine, but, uh…ugh…"

He leans forward just a bit and gags unproductively, both arms now wrapped around his middle. He's still fairly nauseous, it seems, nauseous enough to be gagging against his will like that.

"Try to regulate your breathing some," Oda tells him, nothing how he's hearing more gags and retches than actual breathing, and it seems to work. Dazai focuses more on taking breaths than how nauseous he seems to feel, and after a while, he leans back against Oda.

"Sorry, Odasaku," he mumbles. He wipes the drool from his mouth with his sleeve and makes no effort to hide the whine from the back of his throat.

"Not a problem, Dazai. Sorry you feel like crap," he says, taking his arm to help him stand up, and he's shaky to his feet. He still looks pale and nauseated, but Oda isn't sure he has anything left in him to bring up.

He leads Dazai away from the puddle, because he's fairly certain the sight and smell of it won't help him while he's already so nauseous, so he turns the corner of the car and encourages him to lean against it. He needs some fresh air.

Dazai spits some of his saliva onto the pavement and whines again, and apparently, the nausea hasn't subsided at all. He brings a hand up to his mouth and he's still for a few seconds, but soon enough, he bends over and shifts his hand just in time for him to gag and sputter up what seems to just look like bile. Oda notices it splatter onto his shoes, but doesn't care much. He puts his hand onto the same spot on his back.

Of course, this is right when Ango reapproaches his car. Oda sees his shoes enter his vision and he looks up to see his exasperated expression.

"I leave you guys alone for five minutes," Ango mumbles, rubbing at his temple. "What happened?"

"Apparently Dazai's got pretty bad car sickness," Oda informs as Dazai brings himself back to the ground with a groan and wraps his arms around his middle. Oda's slightly concerned that it's more than that. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone vomit that many times from motion sickness, and he has kids. And as if to prove his point, Dazai somehow manages to bring up another mouthful of bile with an unwelcome gag.

Ango sighs heavy, and Dazai somehow manages to stand himself back up by using the car for support.

"I'll take you two back to the station near here," Ango decides. "If you're that sick, there's no reason to tag along the rest of the way. And the way back."

Dazai, surprisingly, doesn't object. He's really talking a lot less than normal, and both of these things tell Oda that he really doesn't feel well at all.

"Good point," Oda agrees. He'd completely forgotten that they're not even halfway through the trip. There's no way Dazai would make it all the way there without needing to make a pitstop at a hospital for fluids.

And so they're off to the train station. Dazai looks only slightly less nauseous than before. Oda swapped places with him in hopes that it would help him to sit in the front at least for the drive over, and it seems to gave helped.

Ango lets the two of them out right outside a station that would lead them back to Yokohama, and surprisingly enough, he gets out of his car as well. Oda is sure he has a schedule to stick to, so it's nice of him to show that courtesy instead of dropping them off and zooming away.

"Feel better, Dazai. Call me if you guys need anything," Ango says, exchanging a worried glance with Oda. Of course he's concerned. Ango's tendency to mother Dazai seems to go unnoticed by himself.

They're able to catch a train the moment they make it onto the platform, and they sit together at the end of the last train car. Dazai looks better, he's not as pale, but he's sure that's only from walking around. He's not sure how he'll handle the rest of the train ride back.

Oda hands him the extra water bottle he purchased, and to his surprise, Dazai takes a few sips. They don't converse on the train out of respect to the other passengers, but thankfully, there's not many of them this time of day.

About half an hour passes of Dazai visibly trying to take intentional breaths to help aid his nausea, eyes clothes and head leaned back. Oda wonders if that's what he was doing on their car ride that appeared to simply be sleep, unnoticed by he and Ango.

Oda feels the seat buzz, evidently from Dazai's phone, just before the obnoxiously loud ringtone begins to play. So much for keeping quiet.

Dazai groans when he gets eyes on the caller ID.

"Who is it? The boss?" Oda asks quietly. Dazai, of course, doesn't bother turning down his ringer. He assumes it's someone that he's dreading speaking to.

"No. Worse," he mumbles.

He shows Oda the caller ID, which clears up absolutely nothing. It's a picture of a dog, and instead of a name, there's a dog emoji. He's pretty sure Dazai doesn't have a dog, and even if he did, he doesn't think dogs can use cell phones. But he's never had a dog, he wouldn't know.

Oh. Wait. It's his Port Mafia dog. Akutagawa.

"You answer," Dazai asks with a childish pout.

"What? Dazai, I don't -"

But, he's already answered the call and thrown the phone in Oda's hands as he fumbles to catch it. He doesn't want to talk to Dazai's scary sixteen-year-old murder machine. He's never even met him.

"Uh. H-hello," Oda answers nervously, and he's met with dead silence.

"You're not Dazai," the voice says. Oda was definitely not expecting him to sound like that. So raspy and untrusting.

"Um. I'm his assistant?" Oda decides. Dazai seems to be entertained by this conversation. The corners of his mouth start to turn up, like he's holding back a laugh.

"His assistant? Please."

Is Oda allowed to be scared? He should be. This kid is probably a billion ranks higher than Oda will ever be. He tries to think of something to say, but thankfully, the kid is straight to the point.

"Please inform Dazai the boss requests his presence at headquarters in an hour."

And he hangs up the phone.

"Aw, did he hang up? I wanted you to keep messing with him," Dazai complains.

Oda blinks. "He said -"

"I heard," Dazai assures him. His voice wobbles a bit. "We, uh…we should make it. Right?"

"I believe so," Oda answers, checking his wrist watch. He sees Dazai press a fist to his lips in his peripheral, and realizes he's missed the signs.

Dazai sucks in a breath as Oda looks over at him. He's starting to lose color in his face. "I…I think I might puke again."

Oda remembers he stuffed a plastic bag into his pocket after receiving it at that gas station mart, and he seems to hand it to Dazai just in time. He hears the splatter of vomit hit the inside of the bag followed by a painful soundinf retch, which can't be more than water and stomach acid at this point. Dazai whines.

Oda looks up to silently apologize to their fellow passengers, most of which have already resorted to pretending they aren't witnessing this, and Oda doesn't blame them. He's sure not even Dazai wants to be witnessing this, but he doesn't seem to care about the eyes on him.

"I hope you're not sick with something," Oda says, rubbing his back. He can feel him relax just a bit as he continues the circular motion.

Dazai doesn't seem to have anything to say to that, and Oda starts to suspect that maybe it's not entirely motion sickness after all, but of course, Dazai will likely not admit to it either way.

"We should've picked up some motion sickness medication for you," Oda comments as Dazai ties up the bag and sets it on the floor. He's sure he's going to need it again, they haven't been on the train for long at all.

Dazai lays his head on Oda's shoulder and sighs.

"I wanna go home," he mumbles.

"We're on the way," Oda reminds him.

Dazai whines. "No, I've gotta report to the boss."

Oda forgot about that. He wishes he had any advice for him, but in the end, he doesn't have any say in what Dazai does. If he's been asked to report to the boss, that's what he has to do.

Eventually, Dazai manages to doze off on Oda's shoulder, and he stays like that for the rest of the ride back to Yokohama.

He gently tugs on Dazai's sleeve as their train approaches the Yokohama station.

"Let's pick up some ginger ale for you from the train station," Oda suggests as they stand up. He takes Dazai's arm to help him off of the seat. He's clearly still dizzy and nauseated, and half asleep on top of that, so Oda would like to get him off of the train as soon as he can.

"Does that help?" he asks innocently. He burps into his fist and groans, but it doesn't look like he'll vomit again, thankfully.

"I think so. It's helped me," Oda says as they step onto the platform. "Unless you prefer ginger tea."

"Maybe…tea might be better," Dazai tells him.

Oda manages to find a bottled ginger tea at the station's convenience store for Dazai. He takes only a few sips of it as they walk out past the turnstiles, but he stiffens as his eyes dart up.

There's a person standing right at the outside of the station, his own eyes glued to his watch.

Oda can only assume this young man is the Akutagawa he keeps hearing about. He certainly suits the voice he's heard over the phone. He's wearing a black coat that's partially concealing his face, and small sunglasses too - but the glare he's giving Oda once he looks up is so venomous he can taste it.

It's interesting how Dazai's composure changes completely once he knows Akutagawa's eyes are on him, but he can't exactly pinpoint why. He straightens up his shoulders and his expression darkens. He walks towards him without a word to Oda.

Akutagawa recognizes that something isn't right with his superior. Oda can hardly tell, but the look in his eyes is enough to give something away. Concern, maybe. Dazai is still pale and looks completely exhausted, quite frankly.

"Dazai -"

"Quiet. Let's go," Dazai huffs. Akutagawa immediately shrinks at the command, staring as he walks past. He shoots Oda one last glare before he trails behind Dazai like a lost puppy. He's not sure if this is how he usually acts with his subordinate, or if it's a mix of how he's feeling, and being miffed about the whole getting arrested thing that supposedly went down yesterday.

Either way, Oda isn't used to him acting like that at all.

Oda can only hope that Dazai will take care of himself from this point forward without Oda guiding him, but knowing him, that won't be the case.

Before Oda gets back to work, he sends Dazai a text.

Let me know if you need anything. I'll be around.

Oda doesn't receive a reply.

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