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sinofwriting · 11 days

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I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #I ❤️ MILFS verse #I was on something when I came up with this idea and the name of this fic

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dolliestfairy · 9 months

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𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝅄ֹ ׅ♡ ೀ ʚĭɞ ‌ིᨴּ ˒˒۪

(Crazy) Yandere [Nerd] Boy x Soft!Chubby!Fem!Reader ༢𓏲๋ ⊹ ֢

𔓘 Tw : Kidnapping, Extreme Noncon (y'all are strangers bro), Rushed Fanfic, Mentions Of Blood, Virginity-Take, Extreme Somnophilia, Stalking, Extreme Obsession, Impregnate, A little of Bondage, Seriously dude you're fucking with a crazy nerd boy who is a freaking stranger to you like y'all didnt know each other but this madman is really know you to the soul from all his stalking and stuff. this fanfic is quite the Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Chubby reader fics with no skintone of reader mentioned.

𔓘 A/N : y'all.. this are f***king insane bro.. like this is kinda disturbing imo as a writer of this and also a lot of suffocating. Read at your own risk. me myself actually like the extreme yandere fics but this is still the prefix of it. stay safe while reading this because again; y'all are a stranger!! if a dark content yandere isnt your cup of tea then i highly recommend you to spend your shit at other blogs!! ty.

W/C : 6,4K for Stranger Fucking 💀

Currently thinking abt nerdy men who looks like they would shit in their pants when someone raised their voice at them, but the truth is; he's really really quite the strong. he's a nerdy man who arent shy at all (or maybe just a little) and he's simply just dont like to be bothered by anyone else. he's also a nerdy man who told himself countless time to just focus on studying and studying, and at the first moment; he actually manage to do it within his daily life, well until he met you.

You; plump, soft looking girl with chubby cheeks and doe eyes. you dont even know how much you affect him didnt you? arent you just dumb? walking there and then with such a tiny skirt that almost showed up your plump ass cheeks. walking down in the hallway with such dress that hugged all of your curves together perfectly. oh if only you find out how every night he would spend his time in his bedroom alone while his hand thrust his own cock up and down, thinking about you. he would be drown in his thoughts about how you would find out all his dark fantasy about you. but.. he do realize he shouldnt be doing this actually, no really, he should just be studying, but the soft laugh and those.. those whimpers terror you gave him just drove him to his edge.

And the fact that he masturbate about you when you both are clearly still stranger - is fucking crazy. he mostly had heard of how'd you talk, whimper and moan (wait.. how did.. he know?) and stuff like that while your own self being completely un guard around him. he swear to his thumbs he hated you for making him felt like this, i mean how could you?? a plump girl just trying to get into her daily life as normal as usual can make some nerd dude mad in love with her without her being aware at all?! he cant do this.. he cant do this anymore..!

And he really cant do it anymore. as he go to your apartement at midnight after finding out where you live. peeking through the window to what you were doing only to find you dressing in a short pastel rainbow dress lingerie with big bows placed in the back of your hair, dancing to some songs.. and oh my god he cant even explain how much he want to ripped those colorful dress lingerie off your body. he has no doubt at all that you have the most beautiful body he would ever sees in his entire life.

As he drown himself in his own thoughts until he heard a telephone ring -- it was your friend! your male friend! as you picked the phone up, talking with your friends, while he sees with his own eyes about the way you laugh softly at what-god-knows your friend was muttering to you. he doesnt and he would rather bury himself alive than admitting about the fact that he was really, really, envy and jealous. as he harshly breath at you, while all his body is literally focus with you. his eyes seeing you from head-to-toe, his ears listening carefully about the conversation you're having as his mouth try to resist to open it again because well um -- he is quite the drooling over there. that was it until you start to walk towards the front door where he was outside!!

As he sees you carefully, while hiding himself in the corner, and focused on the door handle you're about to open. until........

Until he quickly enough to put his arms and placed it onto your mouth, shuting you up until you passed out and bring you to your new home his home. as he open the bondage he placed at your mouth, and pinch your chubby cheeks until he sees your whimpering again. thats it! thats the thing that always drove him mad everydsy everynight. thinking about you whimper at whatever he was doing was like a holy candle for him. he then stood himself up, looking at your half unconscious body, and then start to strip you... to naked.

As he softly ripped all the dress lingerie you weared, and after he got the look at your boobs, he slowly put his hands up at where your nipples on, and start playing with it. while his eyes focused on your face, waiting the reaction he have been wait. and until then... you are moaning. honestly he have been thinking that he was in a dream that time. i mean -- he do have seen you moan by the way he always check on you secretly.. but he never except his own self to be the only one who could capable enough to hear your soft moan. as he sped up the phase of his hands playing your nipple, while his own other hand strat to undress himself.

And until he and your own finally completely naked. and... oh god to be damned. he swear he always sees you at some kind of whore while your other friend sees you just as an innocent normal girl, and he always have no doubt about his feelings That you have such an erotic body and at the end.. he was actually right. you do have a very very.. pleaseable body. as he placed his hands into your half unconscious body, lowering it until his hands touch your private part -- your pussy. he slowly but surely put his 3 long fingers in to play with you, and to be surprised or.. shocked even, that you are so so fucking damn tight! he even sure that your pussy is one of the most tightest thing he'd ever placed his hands on, as he quickly sped-ing up his pace at playing your pussy, watching you moan and whimper become one, he cant believe what he saw. you're literally still half unconscious! but yet you somehow still manage to bring out the sound he would die for with! at this rate he doesnt know if he wants to wake you up or just let you still be half unconscious so when you wake up, you're gonna have a some extra surprised with your naked body that has been covered with his cums. as he thinking about it while he placed his (quite big) cock at your pussy. trying to rip those tight wall of your pussy off. thats what he was trying to do until your pussy start showing a little drop of blood out of it.

Oh.. he get it.. yeah he actually get it. You're a Virgin arent you? oh.. such sweet cheeks.. well too bad yoi're going to give all of your innocents left as his own hands and dicks. the body of someone you dont even know at all. he actually felt (just a little) bit of guilt. but who cares anyway? you're literally still half unconscious! as he said it to himself while he tried his possible to pound your ass up at your fat pussy. going in and up in every corner. at first it was slowly, but then he start to change the position into a mating press just so the cums and the blood are still there. as he quickly but surely speeding his pace up like a mad man. at this rate he was at the edge of doesnt gave a fuck about the fact that you're still half unconscious but then he's also at the edge of shock and unbelief because of how you are still not waking up at his pounding.

And all of those pounding ends when his cock start to dried out with how your fat pussy suck all his cums and sperma in. pulling his cock out of your pussy only to see the view of the inside of your pussy, being drown with his cums. as his hands hold your body up just so all the cums he had restored isnt goung to spill. and until then he slowly put his hands down, letting your body down into the mating press position, watching your pussy spilling all of his cums like a fucking waterfall. (his cum waterfall) and then he placed his palm hands at your cheeks softly, while quietly muttering about how he would take care of you, and keeping you safe and that you wouldnt need to be scared of him (even after all his done to you) as he placed his other hand at your undressed belly, and then stroke it with such gentleness because he knew that right now, right at the almost-morning time, that you're going to be swellen with thousands - thousands of his sperm, and at the end of the month, he would see you placed your own hands at your bellies who at that time was full with his kid. oh how he cant wait... he just hope that you wouldnt be freaked out about the fact that you just found yourself in a unrecognizeable place with a literal fucking stranger who is now has placed a baby inside of you. yes, a baby -- his baby.

TSUKISHIMA KEI, ITOSHI RIN, MEGUMI, Itachi, Shikamaru, Nanami, Neji, Tobirama, Deku, KUNIMI, Muichiro, SEMI EITA, Konoha Akinori, Venti, XIAO, AL-HAITAM, Akaashi, KOZUME KENMA, & hatake kakashi.

did i forgeting anyone? insert ur fav!

Dolliestfairy's © Works. Do Not Repost My Creation at Any Platfroms Without My Permission.

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fieldofdaisiies · 8 months

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I've Got You

ship: Sihtric Kjartansson x female!Reader type: angst/fluff word count: 2k warnings: talks of violence and wounds summary: I've become obsessed with TLK again and maybe also with Sihtric; so here a little fic about you and Sihtric riding together on a horse back after he saved you

"Come on," Sihtric says to you, pointing at the large, dark horse beside him. It looks majestic and at the same time absolutely terrifying — you have never been on a horse in your whole life and–

"Come on, we need to leave. Now." There is urgency in his uttering, yet his gaze remains empathetic.

The convent where you have spent your entire life in was suddenly attacked. They mercilessly took down the guards, hurt you and your sisters, and as you tried to flee, one of the brutes followed after you. Despite your attempts to escape, his blade managed to slice into your calf, leaving a deep gash there. Unbeknownst to you, help has arrived outside, slaying the attackers.

And out of nowhere, a man appeared in the corridor you tried to escape him, almost like a heroic figure emerging from the turmoil of the battle. With skill that was beyond you, he killed the attacker with his sword, ending his life right before your eyes.

With remarkable ease, the man who revealed himself as Sihtric then swept you up in his strong arms, carrying you over his shoulder outside into safety.

Once joined by other men, and also some of your covent sisters he placed you on the ground next to a large horse and this is where you find yourself now, staring at him with eyes and your mouth wide open.

Your heart is beating so incredibly fast, hammering against your ribcage. There is so much pain in your system, so much panic, and fear, your whole body is shaking with the terror of what just happened.

You suck in a sharp breath, then another, your head feeling dizzy as tears start to cloud your vision.

"I…I can't…ride," you stammer, a whirlwind of emotions brewing in your mind. Your feel how your fingers tremble, how wobbly your knees are. The ground beneath you is covered in frost, crunching when you reposition your feet.

Something like sympathy passes over Sihtric's face and he reaches out and gently grabs your arm, his touch surprisingly tender. "Then we are riding together."

The words struck you immediately — riding with him, with him on the back of the horse!

You are a good Christian woman, you have never been so close to a man. It scares you, but the emotions are not stronger than the panic inside of you, and the urge to leave this place. You need to get away, fast. You know what you witnessed will haunt you forever, but staying here for longer won't make it any better. You need to get away from here.

One after the other your sisters are lifted onto horses as well, always riding with one of Sihtric's companions. A few of them are guided towards a very small carriage, your gaze following them until they disappear.

A gentle breeze starts to blow, gradually cooling the air around you and you find yourself shivering, both out of fear and the cold.

"Ride with me?" you hear the man next to you ask, almost like he is waiting for your consent. And God in heaven above, he truly is.

"Yes…" you say in a voice barely above a whisper, seeing tendrils of breath in front of your face.

Without hesitation and with strength that is beyond you, he lifts you off the ground, gently, and onto the back of the majestic, dark horse, onto the fur placed their. Your legs swiftly wrap around its strong body as you clutch the pommel tightly, a feeling of fear gnawing at your gut.

You're so high up, perched on this powerful creature. Your rob shifts upwards, revealing the pale skin of your legs and another shudder courses through you. If he notices, he does not let show, his gaze trained only on the horse, his jaw tense.

Sihtric wastes no time in mounting the horse behind you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Uncertain of how to react, you remain frozen as he edges closer, gently pushing his chest, nothing but solid muscles beneath his leather armour, against your back. You feel how your hips are enclosed by his strong thighs, capturing you.

A shiver runs through you as you make contact with him – it's a sensation unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

A breath whooshes out of you when you urge yourself to relax your body. You can't escape the closeness to him up here, so you might as well give into it before you make your both fall off the horse.

"Let's go!" one man commands. He looks like the leader of the group, but you don't know for sure. Sihtric behind you shouts his answer. His warm breath tickles your neck, causing the hairs on your body to stand on end.

Your hands tremble as he wraps one arm around your waist for support and takes the reins with the other hand. Why did you let him touch you so intimately? What's come over you? This is not like you.

The wind grows stronger, now flakes of snow starting to fall, getting caught in your hair. It is growing colder, and the horse finally starts to move. It is bumpy, and despite the strong arm around you, you fear you might fall.

You shift slightly, trying to find a more secure position, but this elicits an unexpected groan from the man behind you.

"Don't do that," he grumbles behind you before urging the horse to move a little faster, albeit at a slower pace than the others.

You are left confused, your body all of a sudden tense again and you don't move at all. Soon, you fall in line with others, their horses moving gracefully in sync with yours, all trotting at the same pace. The rhythmic beat of hooves hitting the ground creates a melody around you that slowly soothes the panic inside of you. Yet, your breathing is shaky and ragged, suddenly the memories of what you saw flooding your mind again — you see it all, the blood, the pain, the violence.

Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes close and you try to level your breathing. Small snow flakes land on your face and get caught in your hair. You blow out a long breath, heart beating so unsteadily in your chest. Biting down on your lower lip, you try to direct your thoughts to more positive things, thinking about happy times in the covent.

Sihtric watches you from behind, your figure so fragile in his strong arms. It almost feels like you could break any second, and he knows that you were close to doing so back at the convent.

His mission is to protect you now, forever, it seems like it is his destiny. There is something about you, something that brings out an enormous sense of protectiveness. He has seen the flame of determination vanish when you first made eye-contact in that corridor.

Sihtric looks at you for a moment longer, revelling in the warmth and the feel of your body against his.

You, other than he himself, even smell nice, like chamomile and parchment. From time to time he can feel you shudder, the little clothing, the robe you are wearing, not shielding you from the cold of the winter. He wishes he would have given you his coat earlier, but right now it is too late and he can only provide you warmth with his body.

Once you arrive and once the wound on your calf is looked over and taken care of, he will see that you are provided with a coat and fur to keep you warm.

Another shudder courses through you, your body trembling in his hold.

"I've got you," he assures you, his voice suddenly so very soft and calm, and you offer a hesitant nod.

The horse carries you through the landscape at a not too fast pace, allowing you to take in the surroundings — snow covered landscape, looming mountains, and weathered trees. You have never been out here.

"You are safe now." You feel his hand move from your waist to your hip, no longer gripping you so tightly.

"And you don't ever need to fear again." It is another young man whose voice you suddenly hear and your head whips to the side. He is wearing a soft smile, one of your sister's is seated behind him on the horse, both her arms wrapped around his torso. "None of you needs to fear, you are safe now."

You find yourself nodding at him, his kindness warming your chest a little bit.

"Osferth," he whispers and you tell him your own name in a silent voice. "Y/N."

With the tilt of his head, and an empathetic smile on his lips, he urges his horse to move faster, past you. Your eyes stay on your covent sister and the man for a moment longer, until you look back at the head of the horse you sit atop.

The landscape starts to darken in the distance and you find yourself wondering if you will stop soon, and build up so tents where you can sleep in. But then you actually don't know if they even have tents with them. You don't know where they normally sleep. But the one thing you know is that you will never sleep in your bed ever again. And that unsettles you — you will never have the comfort of your once safe space again. It will never be the same again, you will never have your old life again.

It is almost like he can feel his distress, leaning in the slightest bit closer.

"Would you like to go faster as well?" Sihtric inquires, his grip on your hip tightening slightly.

You nod and he signals the horse to pick up the pace, and it obeys, galloping across the snow-covered land with newfound speed.

In order to keep you safe, he pulls you even closer, and the sensation is exhilarating. There is no space between your bodies, and for a moment you think you can feel his heart beat through his skin and leathery armour.

You've always been afraid of riding, but right now, you're completely lost in the moment—galloping across the land, drawing closer to the edge of the forest. You feel free, alive, all of a sudden as the cool wind whips across your face, through your hair and feels your lungs.

And then—

Frustration surges through you as you abruptly come to a halt.

Everyone has stopped, slowly climbing of their horses. It almost seems like this all works without any conversation passing between them.

Without hesitation, Sihtric shifts behind you, letting go off your waist and also dismounts his horse.

You watch, eyes wide open and wary, how people start to hurdle around, gathering and collecting things. Everyone is tasked with something, many collecting firewood, some already starting to build up tents. You don't even know where to look, there is so much happening.

"Y/N?"

Slowly you turn your head to the sound. Your name from his lips is like the most beautiful song you've ever heard, it brushes your skin, your terribly cold and pebbled skin, like a feather.

Sihtric extends his hand for you to follow suit. "Let me help you dismount the horse."

He watches you closely as you reach for his hand, trembling, cold fingers curling around his.

You don't know how to dismount the horse, still wearing the long robes. You hesitantly, and with great difficulty pull your leg over the back of the horse, and suddenly—

You lose your balance and start to slide and eventually fall, but before you can hit the ground, he swiftly wraps his arm around your waist, catching you, clasping you tightly to his body. "I got you," he once again says, carefully placing you on the ground, allowing you to regain your footing. You take a deep breath and look up at him, offering a mumbled thank you. Your eyes lock.

"Always," he replies with a sincere look in his eyes, and a smile tugs at your lips. You want him to see how grateful you are what he is doing for you, but you can't find the right words.

"I will see that someone looks over your wound, then we will find you warm clothing and a place you can sleep tonight." He steps away, extends his arm to show you the way to…

#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom sihtric #tlk #tlk fanfic

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sunkiss3dlily · 3 months

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to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) | joel miller x reader

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1298

Summary: Joel would die for you and Ellie; that much was evident, but you only come to realise your true feelings for the man when you realise just how much you need him to live for you both, too.

Note(s): ANGST central for my first ever Joel fic!! I'm so excited to share this, and I hope it is just as exciting to read as it was to write! Any feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

His blood seeps into the creases of your palms as you desperately apply pressure to his stab wound, the coarse fabric of the cloth you found in your bag doing little to stem the flow. Joel writhes beneath you on the worn mattress, his pain evident in the way he clenches his teeth.

Tears blur your vision as you stumble through apologies, aware of Ellie's tearful gaze on your side profile. She hovers nearby, torn between worry and terror, fearing the loss of yet another person, especially someone as crucial as Joel.

Or, in Henry's words, the type of guy you'd follow anywhere.

His trembling hands find their place on your coat sleeve, tugging with only the desperation of a dying man as you will to keep your blood-soaked hands pressed over his injury.

"Leave...Leave..." His voice is hoarse and shaky, and that terrifies you. "Take my gun."

"Shut up, Joel," Ellie pleads weakly, standing helplessly behind you. "We aren't leaving you."

"Leave." Joel's voice is cold, angry, and scared. But underneath it all, the thing that scared you most was that there is a twinge in his tone that seems too relenting, too assured in letting the battle against him win, much like how Tess had appeared in the state house way back at the beginning of this fucked-up journey, and that was most certainly not him.

You were not losing him, not today.

You choke down the sob rising in your throat, feeling it pulsing in the column of your throat as you look up at Ellie and do your best to ignore the way her face falls at the sight of big tears sliding down your cheeks. "Go upstairs, Ellie. Look for a first-aid kit or something. Be quick."

She doesn't even hesitate, barely nodding before following your instructions, ignoring Joel as he protests weakly against your words on the mattress below.

You finally allow yourself to look down at Joel's face once Ellie is out of sight.

His eyes are wild with an unrecognised emotion; pain and exhaustion are also evident inside his brown irises. It's the first time you have found yourself properly gazing into his eyes, allowing you to see him for who he truly was for the first time—the self that he had resisted letting show for the entirety of the journey until this very moment.

The fearful man beneath.

"Joel..." You trail off, unsure what to say. Ellie is gone for the moment; should you say goodbye, just in case? Even the notion of doing so has hot tears dribbling down your cheeks, and you're shaking your head at yourself as you try to think of what to do, feeling completely and utterly hopeless.

You're the only capable adult left in this situation, and Ellie is looking to you for guidance on what to do. You couldn't imagine if she were left on her own in this situation. All you know is that if Joel dies and Ellie becomes your sole responsibility, the two of you will barely make it a day.

"Go...go North." He tries, his voice weak, and you ignore him, shaking your head.

Joel achieves a tight grip on you all of a sudden, breaking you from your internal breakdown as he uses seemingly his final bout of strength to tug you closer, startling you as your face looms over his, the closest you have ever been, as one of your hands flies to catch his wrists to stop him from loosening your pressure on his wound. He grits his teeth, speaking through his fear, his voice trembling. "I said, Fucking go! Take Ellie, and get back to Tommy. It's not far. He'll get you to the fireflies... Get you both there."

"Stop, stop.." You shake your head, your voice cracking, but he persists through your protests until you finally snap. "Just shut the fuck up, Joel! We aren't leaving! I...I can't. I can't do this on my own. I can't do... I can't do this without you."

His grip on you loosens, and for a moment, through your tears, you can see his pained and angry expression soften. It is momentary as his eyes flitter between both of yours as he takes in your words, but you feel your heart ache at the glimpse of the real man beneath his cold exterior.

Then, his hands, his bruised knuckles burning white on the fabric of your coat bunched in his grip, pull you closer, and for a moment, your breath hitches. And then he is shoving you away, shattering your delusion in a second.

"Fucking go." He grits out once more, watching as you fall to the floor, using your hands to catch yourself, and letting go of his wound.

You take a moment, out of pure shock, to watch as he cranes his head back to look at the ceiling, as if he can't bear to look at you.

As if he can't bear to see you leave.

"I'm not giving up on you, you asshole." You sniffle, pushing yourself up and glancing up towards the ceiling as you hear Ellie crashing about on the floor above, letting out angry yells to herself. "And neither is she. So don't you fucking give up on us, alright? We've come too far for you to fucking bail on us now."

He groans in pain as you place your hands back on top of the cloth over his wound, pressing down and feeling the warm liquid coat your already-soaked hands once more. You feel and hear him writhing discomfortably beneath you, drowning out your murmured apologies, until he suddenly begins to stop, his movements beginning to slow.

You can't bear to witness what is most likely the face of his dead corpse, and so you find yourself sobbing over your bloodied hands, your eyes squeezed closed as the metallic scent of his blood infiltrates your nostrils due to the close proximity.

"Please...please...you asshole. Please don't do this to me. Please." You cry softly, hearing the ceiling above you continue to squeak as Ellie's boots pound against the floorboards, still tirelessly searching, it seems, even as your own hope begins to dwindle. "I can't do this, Joel. I can't do this on my own. I can't keep her safe. She needs you. I need you. I fucking need you here. I need you to help me do this."

Your hysterical rambles trail off as Ellie's footsteps overhead speed up as they approach the basement door, and soon she is practically ripping the door of the hinges, her boots slamming against each wooden step as she announces, "Here, I found this."

She is on her knees beside you in less than a second, holding up a sewing needle and thread that you can barely find the strength to glance at. You notice she is out of breath and eyeing you with fear that she's too late.

"Ellie...I'm... I'm sorry, but—"

A weak cough interrupts you, and against your gut feeling, you turn your head to check on Joel immediately. His eyes are watery and half-lidded, but he is looking at you with such intensity that you can't bear to look away.

His hands, which had previously been clasped together over his stomach after pushing you away, twitch, a few of his fingers raising upwards, towards you. You reach out your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and you feel him squeeze weakly, his twitching thumb gliding slowly across the side of your hand, savouring the feeling of your soft skin as a small tear slips down his cheek.

You smile weakly at him, nodding with nothing but gratefulness. He was holding on, and whether he would make it to see the next sunrise with you both or not, he was fighting.

©️sunkiss3dlily, 2024.

#joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader

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alexawynters · 5 months

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Scarlet Whispers pt. 1

Gif not mine

A/N: Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Summary: For the most part swap Vision with mutant Y/N whose powers were enhanced by the Mind stone embedded in her forehead courtesy of Hydra. Takes place post Multiverse of Madness, only instead of trying to kill America Chavez, Wanda taught the teen how to control her powers and in doing so, learned how said powers worked herself, becoming able to copy them.

With her newfound powers, Wanda searches the multiverse for her lost spouse and children. She discovers a universe where Y/N exists but she and their sons do not. This aligns with her plans, allowing her to avoid dealing with another version of herself. Using her powers, Wanda intends to make Y/N love her in an attempt to rebuild their family. Whether she does so willingly, or the Scarlet Witch makes her, both are acceptable to Wanda.

Masterlist here

Chapter One

A silent scream escapes your lips as you gasp for breath. Another nightmare. Damn, that's the third one this week, and it's only Monday. Weary, you wipe the sweat from your forehead and head to the bathroom to splash water on your face. It's finals week, and you have an exam in a few hours. A quick glance at the clock shows that it's already 3AM and you groan. Maybe you can manage to get a couple more hours of sleep before the rest of the night slips away.

Lately, for some unknown reason, your troubled mind has been subjecting you to night terrors that make you question your entire reality. These nightmares have been unusually realistic, and you frequently experience more than one per night. At times, you are haunted by so many consecutive nightmares, causing your friends to wonder if you are getting any sleep at all.

The sound of your footsteps padding across the floor is the only thing you hear as you walk from your bedroom to the adjoining bathroom to wash your face. You don't bother turning on the lights since you have a nightlight in the bathroom. You've never been a fan of the pitch black darkness in the bathroom, but the bright overhead lights give you a migraine at the best of times. As a result, your bathroom is mostly covered in shadows, usually just enough for you to do what you need to do and then go back to bed. However, tonight is different. As you accidentally glance up at your reflection, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you see a pair of glowing red eyes staring back at you from behind, causing your heart to race.

As you spin around, you raise a fist to defend yourself against the intruder, only to realize that you are alone in your bathroom. You turn back to your mirror and find yourself alone once again. It must have been remnants of the nightmare. In a hurry, you turn on the faucet's cold water tap, run your hands under it, and splash your face. Although hesitant to fully look away from your reflection for fear of the 'intruder' returning, you still want to wipe the sweat from your clammy face.

It was just a bad dream. However realistic, it wasn’t actually real. Shaking it off, you quickly close the bathroom door and head back to bed, intent on getting as much of your remaining night’s sleep as you can before your exam tomorrow. Or rather, later today.

A few hours later, you find yourself in your usual study spot at the university. The library is your safe haven, and it's definitely your favorite place to be. Even if you didn't have to study (which you absolutely did - you were so far behind if you had any hope of graduating with honors, you needed to spend every available moment here), you would often be found here simply reading a book. Your friends and professors are well aware of your voracious appetite for reading, so if anyone ever wonders where to find you, the answer is likely to be here.

Your first exam was in an hour, and you were cramming every last bit of knowledge you could before taking said exam. You needed the highest grade possible. Your future, your escape, depended on it. It could be argued that this desperation was why you initially didn't notice the sound of children's voices reverberating through the library. While the library was usually empty, it was not uncommon for adult students to bring their children with them to study when their own childcare plans fell through. It was inconvenient, but you tried to be considerate and simply tuning it out. Another day, another distraction, and you didn't have time for it.

Eventually, the disruptive sound became impossible to ignore, and despite your desire to not be rude, you needed to focus and get your work done. With more force than strictly necessary, you slammed your book shut, preparing to find a quieter place to study. However, just as you were about to stand up, two twin boys, around ten years old, came running down the library hall, filled with laughter and giggles, heading straight towards you. Your eyes widened as you realized they had no intention of changing their course - they were definitely going to collide with you.

Opening your arms to catch them, and hopefully prevent all of you from careening onto the ground, you found yourself asking “Hey what’s all this? Where’s your mother, you guys?”

The boys looked at you, confused. “What are you talking about, Momma?”

Your eyes turned the size of saucers. “Momma”? That was new. Someone must be playing a trick on you. How ~delightful~ you thought, annoyed. As if you weren’t already stressed out enough, someone had roped in a couple of kids to play a game of fuck around and find out. Well, whomever had put them up to this, when you found them, they were about to find out.

The library's main door swung open, revealing the presence of an incredibly beautiful woman you estimated to be in her mid thirties, with fiery red hair and the most mesmerizing emerald eyes you had ever seen. Her appearance headed straight towards you left you speechless, immediately taking all the wind out of your sails. Oh well, you were always more bark than bite, you supposed. If you thought her looks were stunning, though, they paled in comparison to the melodic sound of her angelic voice.

“Billy, Tommy, come here boys!”

"Mommy!" the twins shouted at the same time before running into her arms. Part of you wanted to scold them for clearly breaking the library's code of conduct, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it when all three of them just looked so happy. You couldn't explain why your heart clenched at the sight of them either, but for some reason, now that the initial surprise had faded, you were soothed by their presence.

You observe their interaction, not wanting to interrupt their intimate moment. Your heart ached at how comfortable the family appeared to be with one another. Once the stunning woman appears reassured about her children’s well-being, she instructs them to go play and shooing them away before redirecting her attention towards you. You feel a pleasant tightening in your chest as her warm gaze focuses on you.

Even though the children have clearly disrupted your valuable study time, you find yourself dismissing it as if it were insignificant. "Oh, it's no problem, I understand how children can be." You don't, you have never had a sibling nor a child of your own, and you have never babysat a day in your life.

"It's just that they missed you so much, darling," she whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Huh?”

She takes a step closer, invading your personal space, and begins adjusting your shirt. One of the buttons had come undone at some point, and she seems determined to fix it. Part of you wants to point out that she, a complete stranger, should not be in your personal space, let alone touching your clothing. And what did she mean by saying that her children "missed" you? You didn't know them. You didn't even know her. Warning bells start ringing in your head, as you are pretty sure this is the plot of some horror movie. You should leave. This is not a level of crazy you can deal with right now.

"The boys missed you, Detka. It's been a long time since you've been home, so we decided to come see you!" The woman finally finishes fixing your shirt and looks up at you. Though there is warmth in her expression, there's also a hint of madness, her once green eyes tinged with red.

“I-ah… that’s great, and all but I uhh.. I have an exam coming up, I need to get going.”

“Going?”

The warmth in the woman's voice is gone, replaced by a raspy iciness that sends a chill down your spine.

"My love, the only place you need to go is home, with us, your family."

You turn to face the woman and immediately regret it. Standing before you is no longer the woman in mom jeans and a plaid shirt. Instead, she appears to be dressed in some expensive sorceress cosplay that you estimate would cost thousands of dollars to create or purchase. When... when could she have possibly changed? Just a second ago she was dressed like a normal person, right?

Slowly, you take in the sight of her. Not only has her outfit changed, but her overall appearance as well. Her cheeks hollowed, the sockets of her eyes are sunken as if she hasn't slept in weeks, and her eyes are a glowing crimson. The same shade from your nightmares.

This isn’t real. This is another nightmare. One you need to wake up from.

“Oh absolutely fucking not.” You whisper, as you turn and run.

Unbeknownst to you, the Scarlet Witch allows you to flee. With a flick of her wrist, she could have immobilized you, could have compelled you to accompany her, whether willingly or not, but she chooses not to. The pursuit begins, and she intends to enjoy herself. You will succumb to her, and do so quite prettily. She starts walking down the hallway after you, taking her time. After all, now that she has found you, she has all the time in the world to play with you.

Grace has never been a quality that you possess. In fact, you remember a song your mother made up when you were a child specifically to remind you just how graceless you were. Not that it helps you now, as your brain never finds the appropriate time to recall useless facts. Cursing your ineptitude, you rush out of the library as fast as your legs can carry you.

Moments later, you’re throwing yourself into every door along the hall, however, none of them open. What is wrong with this place? Why is everything locked? You don't remember the university being so fond of locking everything, but then again, you only go to about the same four places. Variety might be the spice of life, but your stomach (anxiety) prefers a milder taste.

As you run, you hear the clicking of the woman's heels, hot on your trail. Or is she really hot on your trail? It sounds as if... you tilt your head, listening. She's walking? You think to yourself that surely you can outrun a woman walking in heels. Surely. (Your asthma would suggest otherwise). Abandoning yet another locked door, you rush further down the hallway. Maybe you don't need to outrun her or find a room to hide in; after all, barricading yourself would only delay the inevitable. Your goal is to reach civilization, to find other people. Speaking of which, where is everyone? Usually, this wing of the university is bustling with activity at this hour.

Exhausted, you pause to catch your breath, hands resting on your knees, hoping that you have managed to buy yourself some time. Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed as her low, raspy voice fills the corridors, humming what sounds like a lullaby in an unfamiliar language. The eerie sound sends chills down your spine, making it painfully clear that luck is not on your side. Where could she be? She is not next to you, nor ahead, yet her voice continues to echo, sounding almost...

Almost the same moment you realize the source of the danger, a hand reaches through the mirror from behind you and grabs your shirt with an unnatural strength. You scream loudly, hoping to alert someone in the building for help, but no one comes to your aid. "What the- LET GO OF ME!" You forcefully pull your shirt from her grip, tearing it in the process, and hastily retreat down the hallway.

To your horror, you see the woman's arm brace against the wall and begin to pull herself out through the mirror. You scramble to your feet, desperate to flee once again, with only one thought repeating in your mind: "What the fuck?!" None of this could be real.

"Y/N," a low voice said in a saccharine tone. "Where do you think you're going? Don't you know that I will always find you? I have crossed thousands of universes to find you, and now that I have you, I will never let you go." In any other context, this would probably be incredibly sweet. Currently however, it only fuels your fear, sending you into a blind panic. You have to escape whatever the hell this is.

Navigating through corridor after corridor you eventually spot one of your classmates at the end, entering the exact exam room you needed to be in that morning. It's a desperate situation, but maybe they can buy you some time while you make your escape through a window or something. It’s not a brave thought, you’re not proud of it, but survival instincts have already kicked in.

You quickly catch up to your classmate, despite initially being so much farther behind, managing to slide into the room just after them. The proctor promptly closes the door behind you. You're breathing heavily, and in your haste, you embarrassingly just slid into the backside of your classmate, with your shirt heavily torn. You must look ridiculous, but unsurprisingly no one questions you about it, your classmate simply looking miffed and whispering an insult as they move out of your personal space. The situation would be comical if you hadn't just been running for your life.

It’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

Steadying your breathing, you make your way to the back of the classroom, nearest the window and stare apprehensively at the door. You’re expecting any second now for that woman to come barging in, but she doesn’t, and now here you are ready for your exam. Wow you must really be losing it. Stress induced hallucinations, that has to be it.

Although you were hesitant to simply continue with your day, the world doesn't wait for anyone. Whether you actively participated or not, your proctor would still grade your exam, which your future still depended on. You made an effort to push the hallucination from your mind and concentrate on the information you had retained for the exam, aiming to achieve the highest score possible.

Once you have completed the exam, you hand it in and cautiously enter the hallway. The grades wouldn't be posted until the end of the term, but you were confident enough in your answers to believe that you had earned at least an A. Whether it was an A+ or A- was still uncertain, but you were hoping for the former. So focused were you on your test that you had almost forgotten about the incident earlier that morning. For a moment, you wondered if you should visit the university's nurse. Although she was not an actual doctor, it was a free service, and perhaps she could recommend something. On the other hand, at worst, she would suggest getting more sleep, and at best, she would advise you to see a doctor, which you couldn't afford. Not to mention the argument your parents would start regarding the doctor’s bill (as if they were above opening your mail). Perhaps not.

You had no more exams for the day, so it was time to go home. There were chores to do for your parents, and then you had to study for tomorrow's exam. If you were lucky, you could finish everything early and get a few extra hours of sleep, hopefully avoiding another hallucination like today. Rubbing the exhaustion from your face, you head towards the bus stop. It was early enough that the bus should arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and you would be home in about an hour. Everything was going according to plan. Tomorrow was going to be a great day, you just had a feeling.

Once on the bus, your exhaustion started to overwhelm you, your headphones doing little to drown out the ambient noise. Before long, you were fast asleep. Even if you were awake, you probably wouldn't have noticed the viridian eyes in the reflection of the bus window watching over you. Unlike before, these eyes didn't appear to be of malicious intent. If anything, they seemed to observe you with care and empathy. If the volume of your headphones spontaneously happened to outweigh that of the alarm you had set for yourself to awaken you for your stop, that was just a coincidence.

A/N 2: sorry but the writers of the M.o.M. butchered her character just to have her shoehorned into a villain role so Strange would have an adversary already established in the MCU as a powerful magic user - I'm still salty about it. However Ms. Olsen's performance was phenomenal. Anyway lmk if this is absolutely trash or if you wanna maybe read more? I have a couple of chapters pre-written but not the entire thing.

Many thanks to my editors @flowers-shouldnt-die, and Brooke for helping me through this and providing valuable feedback! Especially @flowers-shouldnt-die for her assistance with translations in helping me learn both Hungarian and Russian for this. Wouldn't have made it this far in the story without you :3

#Wanda maximoff x f!reader #dark wanda maximoff #dark wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda x fem!reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!scarlet witch #dark!wanda x reader #wanda x reader

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Make It Better - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

Joel Miller masterlist

Menstruating in the midst of the apocalypse isn’t exactly a breeze. While Joel can be a real guy about her period, he's always up for helping ease her pain, in whatever way he can.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, period sex, enough said

a/n | this is entirely inspired by a post I saw today from @psychedelic-ink in search of some good, sweet period fics about Mr. Miller. Voila, folks.

Men have it so much easier in the apocalypse. This was a thought that had occurred to her monthly for the last twenty years. Everytime her period came, she found herself woefully unprepared. You would think that FEDRA would start mass producing pads or something, but obviously there were no women amongst the higher ups, because no such relief had ever come. She had figured out a number of tricks over the years, slicing up the military-issued socks to make reusable pads, keeping an eye out for old tampax boxes on runs with Joel. He’d always get flustered when she’d wave a lucky, smuggled box in his face, muttering something about not needing to know about that while she just grinned from ear to ear with the knowledge that she’d be set for the next month. She and Tess would give him endless shit for it, trying to outdo each other in making him blush amidst all their womanly talk.

She missed Tess endlessly, but had quickly drawn Ellie into the challenge of freaking Joel out with talk of the very normal, very human thing that was menstruation. He at least tried to be a gentleman about it, while still being a total guy about it too, asking her if she was feeling ok when he knew hers was coming up, but also sometimes pulling the “you on the rag?” card when she was being particularly short with him.

When they got to Jackson, and Maria hooked both her and Ellie up with diva cups, it had been a game changer. No more makeshift pads, no more scrounging for expired tampons. Finally, some damn relief from the conundrum that was menstruating during the end of the world. Since they had settled into the community, however, and her and Joel had been sharing a bit more than just each other’s platonic company, Joel’s seeming unease around the topic of her monthlies hadn’t really dissipated.

He had actually jumped in shock when she showed him how the diva cup worked one night in their shared bathroom, a twisted look of horror on his features as she folded up the plastic contraption before letting it snap back into form. His words came out as an incredulous gasp when he finally spoke.

“You’re telling me that goes inside you, like that?” She had to bite back a laugh at his reaction.

“Pretty sure I’ve had far more inside me very recently, Joel.” A brutal flush crept across his neck and face at that, leaving him a stammering mess as he quickly stumbled out of the bathroom. It was just too easy.

Another time, Joel had come home from a patrol shift to find her in the kitchen, boiling the diva cup to sanitize it before the next time. He had sweetly come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and murmuring into her neck, asking what was for dinner. Then he got a good look at what was in the pot. That time, he had let out a yelp, tripping back on his feet and looking at her like she had grown a second head.

“Godammnit, woman. What the hell are you doing?” She had fixed him with a look, huffing at his big man-baby antics.

“Joel, I have to clean it somehow.” His eyes were wide, a terror-stricken look on his face.

“Not in the pans we eat out of though!” He didn’t seem convinced by her cajoling that it was perfectly sanitary and after that night, she never saw that pot again.

One thing they could agree on about all this, however, was period sex. First and foremost, Joel liked to feel needed, like he could give something to her, so it took little convincing to get him between her legs under the guise of helping ease her cramps. He hardly cared about the blood, and she thought he also didn’t mind how sensitive she got during that time of the month either. His only stipulation? That the diva cup came out before he got anywhere near her.

As usual, her period had started the night before, always the middle of the month. She and Joel had been together for so long at this point that he could clock it pretty well, the next morning looking in the bathroom cabinet in the spot where she normally kept her diva cup before turning to look at her skeptically, his face still groggy with sleep. She had smirked at him around her toothbrush before wiping her mouth and fully looking at him.

“Yes, Joel? Do you have a question?” His brows shot up his forehead before settling back into a furrow, he cleared his throat.

“Is it um, is it–” She quirked a brow at his stumbling. He finally spit it out though.

“Is it– in there?” She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out at his bashful look.

“You ask me the same thing every month and I give you the same answer every month. Yes, it’s in there.” His brow stayed furrowed as he rubbed the back of his neck, finally letting out a gruff hum before shuffling back into the bedroom. Some things never change. Why a man who had literally killed people with his bare hands couldn’t seem to get over the fact that she had a functioning uterus was beyond her, but damn, was it fun to watch him squirm.

She got home before him that night, having taken an earlier patrol shift. While she was certainly tough, having been out on the road for such a long time, she still got worn down by the requisite cramps that came every month and was currently in a world of hurt. She had once told Ellie that she’d trade all her non-essential organs for a bottle of midol.

While not quite the same as painkillers, Maria had gifted her a bottle of peppermint oil for her cramps. Some of the women had been harvesting the wild plants and were beginning to distill them down for their medicinal properties, and apparently peppermint worked particularly well for pain. She took off her shirt and bra, not bothering to shuck off her pants before laying across their bed and rubbing some of the oil into her stomach, sighing at the instant relief that the cooling sensation brought. She let her eyes drift shut, enjoying the light tingling of the oil on her skin as well as the fresh scent of the peppermint, but was soon interrupted by the sound of heavy boots approaching the bedroom.

“Are you in– oh.” She cracked one eye open, taking in the sight of Joel standing over the bed, seemingly slack-jawed as he looked down at her. She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Why does it smell like toothpaste in here?” She huffed at that, sitting up and handing him the bottle of peppermint oil.

“It’s for cramps, from Maria.” He looked at her then, and she was starting to feel warm at the way his gaze was wandering over her half-naked figure.

“You hurting?” She just shrugged, sighing as he stepped closer to let his fingertips skate along her collarbone. He leaned down to drop a kiss to her lips that she chased after to deepen, finally pulling away once they were both good and gasping for breath. Joel pressed his forehead to hers, his voice coming out hoarse.

“Can I help?” She grinned, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck and drawing her lips to his ear in a way that made him shudder.

“You sure can. But you better let me get up first. It’s still in there.” He was off her in a flash, hands up like he was surrendering to the period police. She couldn’t help the wicked laugh that came out as she jogged over to the bathroom to get fully undressed. She could hear him mumble after her retreating figure “fucking menace.”

Diva cup out, and towel in hand, she came back into the bedroom to find him shirtless, toeing off his boots and socks on the end of the bed. He paused in his movements when she stepped before him, completely bare. His face went totally slack as he took in the sight of her. Never gets old. He snapped himself out of it, swallowing thickly before looking up to her gaze.

“Lay yourself out for me, darlin.” His southern drawl was already getting slow and thick in a way that made her thighs clench. She did as he asked, laying down the towel before settling her hips over it and laying back against the pillows. He stood at the end of the bed, not taking his eyes off her as he peeled off his jeans.

She had dipped one hand down to draw lazy strokes across her clit, already impossibly sensitive as his eyes bore down on her. She couldn’t help the whimper that ran through her throat when he slid his boxers off, his cock already hard as he crawled up onto the bed between her legs. Hovering over her, he rested one of his elbows by her temple as they met in an entirely sloppy kiss. They were both stubborn and it showed in the harsh tangle of tongues and scraping of teeth. He pulled away just for a moment to look down as his fingers dipped into her folds, drawing a long sweep up to her clit. She preened into his touch, hips already bucking up into his hand as he started to swirl his fingers around her clit.

“So worked up for me already, huh, pretty? Just need me to make you feel good, s’that it?” His voice was a low purr in her ear as he dipped his fingers down to her entrance. She whined as he started to thrust into her, his palm grinding against her clit in messy circles.

“F-fuck, yes. Make me feel good, Joel. Wanna be good for you.” He dragged his lips up the arch of her neck, his murmurs sending vibrations through the tender skin.

“Always so good for me, darlin. Want you to come on my fingers, can you do that?” She was already embarrassingly close, clenching around his fingers with each thrust of his hand. All she could do was nod and bite back the shivering moans that were crawling up her throat. Joel dipped his head down to her chest, taking one of her peaked nipples into his hot mouth and she yelped out a broken curse at the feeling. There was a lewd pop when he pulled off her, resting his chin between the valley of her breasts as he watched her teeter over the edge of pleasure.

“Come for me, darlin. Show me how good it feels. Just let go.” The pleasure snapped in a jagged blur as she clamped down around his fingers, her hips jerking up into his hold. He worked her through it until she was starting to squirm in his hand, finally pulling his fingers away and wiping them off on the towel beneath her.

She pulled him in by his neck for another kiss, her other hand sweeping down between them to palm at his throbbing hardness. He hissed into her mouth as her thumb swiped over his tip, smearing pre-cum down the length of him before lining him up with her entrance.

“Want you, Joel. Wanna feel you, please.” He groaned into her neck before pressing his hips forward, both of them letting out broken sighs when his hips settled flush with hers. She drew one leg up, her knee hitching at his waist as he rolled his hips back before thrusting into her in one harsh stroke, quickly finding a pace that had her gasping out his name.

“S’right, pretty. Keep saying my name– fuck– s’me who’s making you feel so good, huh?” She let out a whimpered “yes” to his question, her nails finding purchase in the tense muscles of his back. The pleasure was already starting to pool sure and heady at the base of her spine, her cunt fluttering around his thick length with each thrust. Joel seemed to notice, bringing his hand down between them to draw heavy sweeps across her clit. Her hips bucked at the sensation, a clipped cry bubbling from her throat. Joel’s eyes were fierce as he watched her crumpled expression of pleasure.

“Think you got one more for me, darlin. Be good for me. Come for me– fuck– need to feel you.” With a cry of his name she fell over the edge of pleasure again, spasming around his dick as he fucked her through the simmering throb. He wasn’t far behind, pulling out only to stroke himself a few times before he was releasing over her stomach.

He hunched over her, his breath smearing across her collarbones as she lightly dragged her nails up and down his back, both of them trying to calm their racing pulses. Joel finally looked up at her, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth that drew a grin from her.

“That feel better, darlin?”

“Much better, but we really need a shower now.”

They showered together, and it was sweet, all tender touches and soft smiles. But she couldn’t help herself when they got out, wrapping her towel around her body and grabbing the diva cup, waving it in Joel’s face.

“You wanna see how it’s done, Miller?” He visibly blanched at her words, already shuffling out of the bathroom as he muttered a few words.

“Nope. No, ma’am.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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bettyfrommars · 8 months

Note

Heyy, I have a little optional request for the nightmare factory. Eddie could be located in an abandoned theme park or an abandoned place half submerged in water & loves how much this location freaks you out in the best way…

nightmareGuide!eddie x reader

another installment of The Nightmare Factory

masterlist

This is a collection of blurbs and short fics about Eddie falling for you, but only being able to communicate through your nightmares. 2.3k

This suggestion really inspired me, and I don't think it's exactly what you had in mind, but I will be using more abandoned themes throughout this series. This is a comfort write for me that I post as soon as I'm finished, so I'm sure there are plenty of errors.

18+ONLY, nightmares, terror, abandoned places

------

When you showed up to the theme park, you were the only one there. Strange also because you didn’t remember how you got to that location, and as you looked around you wondered if maybe you were at the wrong place.

Perhaps you were supposed to go to a different fairgrounds or theme park because this one looked like it was abandoned. It was dark out, and there didn’t seem to be a single star in the sky. The moon was bright, though, and it loomed comically big, as if it were somehow much closer to earth. You were standing in the empty parking lot in front of the ticket booth and rolling metal arm entrances, which were all covered in graffiti; the pavement littered in shattered glass from the broken windows. Ahead you could see the looming rides spread out over the vast park, each of them overgrown with moss and vines, rusted and frozen in time like a place where laughter goes to die.

Questions echoed somewhere in the back of your head as to why you were there, but all the same—your feet kept moving

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a black mass with multiple spider legs crawling up the ferris wheel—but when you turned with a gasp, it was gone.

“You lost?” A deep voice called to you from between the fence and the ticket booth. You saw the plume of smoke first, and then someone stepped out.

It was a man, possibly in his twenties, with long, curly dark hair past his shoulders and bangs that covered his eyebrows. He was wearing dark jeans with holes in the knees, white shoes, and some type of denim vest covered in patches over a leather jacket. When he took a drag of his smoke, you noticed the chunky silver rings on his fingers.

Eddie wanted to contain his excitement, but it was hard to be normal about this.

He finally found a way for you to see him—-to really see him. To talk to him. You could even touch him, if you wanted to.

In dreams, there are people we travel with once in a while that are simply known as Guides. Sometimes they pass knowledge on, sometimes they are there as a reflection of your needs, and sometimes—they are just there to hang out with you.

Usually, to be a Guide you had to be employed with the Nightmare Factory for a long time; it was the equivalent of slacking off for a few years before retirement. But, Eddie had wormed his way into the Abandoned Spaces Simulation wing of the factory by flirting ruthlessly with Jean, the older woman who worked the front desk.

And now, there you were—looking right at him.

“I think I came to the wrong place,” you said. It never occurred to you to ask him who he was or where he came from—there was an instant familiarity. You even wondered if he was the reason you came to the amusement park to begin with.

“Come with me,” he inclined his head, extending the crook of his elbow for you to take. “I have something I want to show you.”

In a blink, you were deep inside the park, surrounded by the long-forgotten rides and a place along the fence where there were once games to win prizes like pop the balloon and bullseye. A roller coaster loomed menacingly in the distance like a big, green, sleeping monster while a vendor that advertised cotton candy had what looked like mold growing all over bags of the sweet treat and bullet holes through the sign.

Eddie guided you to the ferris wheel, and for some reason, now it looked brand new—as shiny as the day it was first erected.

“Take a ride with me?” Eddie asked, enjoying the expression of awe on your face.

A gust of wind blew his hair back and you wrapped your arms around yourself, horrified to realize you were still wearing your pajamas.

“Oh shit,” you whispered, meeting his amused gaze with terror. “I forgot to change my clothes before I came here.”

“It happens,” he shrugged.

He took your hand to help you up into the metal bucket, and then he settled in next to you and pulled the safety bar down. Your hips were touching and he opened his knees a bit wider so that your legs were touching too. He arched forward to adjust his jacket, and when he sat back, he turned his head to ask if you were comfortable, and you had this overwhelming urge to kiss him.

Eddie felt it too. He noticed the way your gaze fell to his lips, the way you swallowed hard and then sought his eyes with a childlike curiosity.

“Do I know you?” You asked. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we?”

“Not here,” Eddie rocket the squeaky bucket as the ride started at a crawl. “But yeah, we’ve met before.”

Who was operating the machine? How was it suddenly in working condition? You didn’t even think to wonder. When their seat finally made it to the top, it stopped and swayed there. Eddie lifted his arms up for a mock yawn and a stretch, and then one of his arms came down around your shoulders.

You heard the music first, and then the playful screaming and the buzz of conversation.

“Look down,” Eddie told you.

Below, the park was completely functional again. There were no more weeds or mold growing on everything, and a sea of people made their way around to the various rides and games, enjoying the festivities. There were bright carnival lights and people cheering and the smell of buttered popcorn.

Eddie was watching your face; basking in the way your eyes lit up.

“We should get a funnel cake after this,” you told him, forgetting that the place was ever abandoned. “With powdered sugar and strawberries.” You put your hand on his leg so that you could lean further over to see the rest of the scene. There were stars in the dark blue sky again, and they twinkled like jewels.

“Hey,” he brought his arm down from around your shoulders and took your hand to interlace his fingers with yours and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You were warm and soft and he didn’t want this to end; he could feel desperation tightening in the back of his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

You met his gaze, searching for your answer. “Sure?”

He looked down, rubbing his thumb along yours. “Do you think you could try to…remember me? After you wake up, I mean.”

Your face offered the genuine confusion that you felt. “Wake up? You mean, this is a dream?” Your attention returned to the swarm of people down below. “Why does it feel so real?”

“I’m real,” he whispered.

You turned to face him, to return the affection in his rich, umber eyes, and he squeezed your hand.

“Fuck it,” he breathed, deciding to shoot his shot. “Listen, this is going to sound crazy, okay? But I work for a place called the Nightmare Factory and I was dispatched to scare you a few months ago, but I just…I don’t know…I really like you.”

As his mouth moved, his face began to distort; his eyes and nose vanished, and then they came back misplaced like a deranged Mr. Potatohead. You watched it in awe, having trouble registering what he was saying.

“I mean, I’m not sure how this could work,” Eddie continued. “Because we exist in different realms, but there are dreams that last for days, and I’m going to find one for us, so we can get to know each other better. If you want that?”

You nodded, even though his voice was garbled and there was an eyeball where his mouth should be. You blinked a few times, and then his face finally went back to normal.

“I’d like to spend a few days with you,” you heard the words come out of your mouth and felt the response come from your heart, even though you didn’t think you had heard a word he’d said. As you slept there was another very important part of you that stayed awake—and it yearned for this boy you were with.

Eddie coughed out a laugh, relieved, and then tightened his lips around a long exhale. “Damn, that’s a relief.”

The lights all around the park began to dim, but you didn’t notice or mind, because Eddie brought his hand up to cup your jaw and ran his thumb a few times over your cheek. The screams you heard coming from down below were different now—more blood curdling—but Eddie was pulling you close to press his forehead against yours.

“I want to be your favorite nightmare,” he said with a chuckle.

“Are you supposed to be scary?” You asked, innocently, rubbing the tip of your nose on his. “Because you’re not very good at it.”

The bucket you were in began to swing aggressively as something made the ride jostle.

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “There’s always something. But wait—don’t look!”

Before his words could register, you did, indeed, look down to find that what had once been a sea of regular people, had morphed into a horde of zombies.

Snarling, hungry, ragged zombies with bulging eyes and skin hanging off their bones.

They were crawling their way up the ferris wheel to get to you.

You screamed and crushed in closer to Eddie. He wrapped his arms around you and put his lips against your ear so you could feel the sensation of his hot breath. “They won’t hurt you, I promise. You trust me?”

A few of them were half way up, screeching and moaning as others joined the ascent. You were thinking maybe you should crawl down the other side and run into the woods. The last thing you wanted was to be mauled to death by the walking dead.

“Do you have a knife, or something we can stab them in the head with?”

Eddie chuckled at your exuberance to kill his co-workers. “Baby, it’s okay, I promise. They’re just trying to scare you, they won’t hurt you. Hey—” he took your face in his hands as the metal basket made a cracking sound at the hinges like it was about to break.

“Oh god oh god oh god—”

And then he pressed his lips to yours, softly, but with enough pressure that your eyes fluttered and you forgot to be worried.

The big wheel you were on started to move forward, chugging and jerking along at a labored pace.

Eddie pulled back to see you. “Remember me? Please? Remember my face.”

All you could do was nod a few times.

The zombies were sliding off and falling to the ground as the contraption rotated on its axis, but the next problem was that you were about to be deposited right into the arms of the waiting horde; jagged teeth snapping at the air, eager to tear you limb from limb.

“I promise I’ll try,” you told him, bracing yourself as you were lowered into the outstretched hands of your demise.

When the bucket was about to ground level, two of the zombies lunged at you from the side, and just as their fingernails clawed at your clothing and you screamed bloody murder, a wide, black hole with blue edges opened up in the atmosphere and you fell through, screaming.

You fell back to your bed.

Your eyes flew open as you gasped, feeling your arm and neck for bite marks.

“What the hell was that?” You said aloud to the dark room.

It was so vivid, so real.

There was a boy in the dream that you desperately did not want to forget, and a voice inside told you to write down what you remembered of him. Even as you searched around in the drawer of your nightstand, the details of the boy you kissed were slipping away and turning to mist.

Writing frantically in the dark, you recalled that he had brown eyes and he said he wanted to be your favorite nightmare.

But what did that even mean?

The abandoned theme park and the zombies—-those details were very clear. But him…him…HIM. Why couldn’t you keep him in your mind?

Why couldn’t you keep him?

When the ferris wheel came to a stop, Eddie pushed the metal bar up with a grunt.

“Thanks for nothing, you guys,” he told the group of flesh-eating zombies that were all gathered casually around him, mingling with clueless expressions on their faces.

“Sorry Munson,” Val—the one with a broken neck that made her head sit sideways and a missing eyeball—said with a helpless shrug. “Kevin said we had to.”

“Fuck Kevin,” Eddie jumped from the platform to the ground, his wallet chain clapping against his thigh. “I suppose he wants to talk to me?”

They all nodded in unison.

“Are you coming to the potlatch this weekend?” Norman—the one with a skeletal face that looked like his skin had been burned off with acid and a bloody hole in his stomach—-asked with his wide, lipless mouth.

“Maybe,” Eddie answered, shouldering his way through the rest as they mumbled their greetings. “If I have time before band practice.”

Marv, the Zombie with maggots in his rotten cheek, clapped Eddie on the back a few times. “Kevin is on the warpath today, but don’t let him get you down, kid. You do good work.”

Eddie walked a bit and then stopped and turned around when he realized none of them were beside him. “You guys coming?”

“Nah,” Val said. “We’ve gotta wait around here for the next one. Our shift isn’t over for another hour.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson series #nightmare!eddie #nightmareGuide!eddie #abandoned #zombies #eddie munson fluff #scary fluff #nightmare #satire #Eddie munson fanfic #the nightmare factory

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jo-harrington · 5 months

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Incremental Planning (A Store Manager Verse Story - Steve Harrington/Reader)

Previous Part: On-The-Job Training

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Wicks'n'Sticks!Reader (you'll see)

Summary: You and Steve have been going out for a little while and he suddenly feels the need to step up his game.

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Fall 1985, Steve and Robin work at Scoops, Reader works at Wicks and Sticks (formerly at Dippin' Dots; you job hop...it's a thing), New Relationship "Troubles," Infatuation/Crush, Cute Dates, Tie in with the Store Manager Verse

Note: Dedicated to @dr-aculaaa (late bday gift), @rosewaterandivy and @carolmunson who've heard little tidbits intermittently but this has taken a minute to come together. And @ghost-proofbaby for the last date idea. Enjoy <3

You can find my masterlist here for more fics featuring pretty much exclusively Eddie Munson content but also a little Steve.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

If Steve had to pick one thing that was his best quality, it would be that he was reliable.

"Psshh, yeah right," Robin scoffed. "Reliably late to picking me up for work every day."

"Hey!" Steve argued. "I promised to drive you to school when it starts next week, so could you...I dunno...gimme a break here?"

"You don't need to do your hair every morning; I have band first period so if you could please be a little better with time, I'd appreciate it!"

"Robin!"

Reliable, unfortunately, was boring. And you were anything but boring.

Steve learned quickly that his favorite thing about you was that you changed with the seasons. If the wind blew in a different direction, so would you.

Just like the whole vanilla debacle, you were never satisfied with one flavor. Yeah you liked a root beer float for a while, but before long, you were a banana split person. And shortly after that, hot fudge.

And while changing tastes in ice cream was endearing and made him a little looser--and got him a date--it was how quickly you changed tastes in other things that had him a little worried.

"I quit Dippin' Dots!" you announced one afternoon in early September, throwing your visor at him from across the counter.

"You what?" He stared at you with wide eyes.

"I quit," you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head towards him. "Dippin' Dots."

"No I got that I just...why?" He held his hands out around him. "Rival ice cream shops. That's kind of our thing."

"Well, you're just gonna have to get a job at a rival candle store because you're looking at the new sales associate at Wicks'n'Sticks."

You grinned at him and proudly pulled the little name badge from the back pocket of your jeans, your name already engraved and everything. Steve's eyes darted between it and you, unable to comprehend that you were joking.

"No, I'm not serious," you laughed. "Unless you hate it here, which I know you do."

"Shhh, not so loud!"

"The pay sucks, you always go home sticky, and you get yelled at by every mom in Roane County for getting their order wrong. I've heard you say it enough times Steve."

You were right; he just liked sticking to routines. Routines were nice...reliable.

"So what does that mean for us?" he asked.

"Means we're just gonna have to get another thing," you offered. "Like...making out in the service corridors instead of up against the kiosk after hours."

Ok, so...he could live with that.

What worried him was, well, if you were just just dating reliable old Steve Harrington all the time, you'd get bored with him. Nancy had gotten bored with him and looked for someone...better. You'd already gotten mad at him for being slow on the uptake about the small vanilla cup. What if he was boring in some other way? What if you tired of him just like you tired of your job at Dippin' Dots?

He'd already established a routine with your dates. Movie nights on Thursdays whenever new shows came out, then dinner at Benny's on Sunday nights, and lunch at the food court on Tuesdays when your shifts aligned.

You always said you liked your "dates."

"Is that what they said?" Robin asked as he aired his fears to her on the way to school one morning. "'Dates.' With air quotes?"

"Yeah?" He stumbled over his words. "Why? What are you--why are you--what is that...is that a problem? It's our routine."

"Oh god," she groaned and slammed her head back against the headrest. "You already have a routine? Dating isn't about routines. Is this...did you have routines with Nancy?"

"Yes, why?"

"Ok, new plan of attack," she waved her hands in front of her. "New date ideas. Every week. You, Steve Harrington, are hopeless."

---

The whiteboard in the backroom suddenly became the "Date Idea Board."

Robin had told him to do it as soon as he got to Scoops, brought the board out to the counter with him. Ice cream was less popular in the mornings, it seemed, especially with kids back in school--

He could see why you jumped the Dippin' Dots ship. Aside from the handful of mall employees taking their breaks and wanting ice cream, he was bored.

--so he had plenty of time to think of something before the closing lead came in.

But the board remained blank all the way up until lunchtime.

"What did I do during school?" he threw his hands up in the air as he started towards the food court. "Movies...dinner...parking up at the quarry and making out? We haven't done that yet. I guess..."

He roared in frustration as he got in line at Hot Dog on a Stick, earning dirty looks from several lunch-goers.

"What?" he scoffed at them, and then tried to nonchalantly glance around.

And that's when Steve spotted them, tucked at a table near JCPenney, heads close together as they each held an earpad of a set of headphones connected to a walkman on the table, free hands reaching periodically for a basket of cheese fries: Eddie Munson and the Claire's manager.

It kind of made Steve a little antsy, like he was observing a private moment, the way they smiled at each other and bantered back and forth. He didn't even get this feeling watching couples make out in the hallways at Hawkins High. He wondered for a second if anyone felt that way when they saw the two of you together...

No one saw you together at the movies, or late Sunday nights at Benny's. And during lunch on Tuesdays, you definitely sat across the table from one another...not next to each other like that.

Was that it? Was that the answer? Just...go more places together. He really wished he had someone to ask about this.

And his wish was granted when Eddie looked at the time on his watch and then, with a flick of his girlfriend's dangly earrings, he ran out of the food court.

Steve abandoned his place in line and rushed across to plant himself in Eddie's vacated seat.

"Uh," the manager squinted her eyes at him in recollection. "...hi cherry lipbalm guy."

"It was strawberry, actually," he then pointed to his name tag, "and it's...Steve."

"Hi Steve," she amended and pointed to her own name tag to introduce herself.

"Hi."

It was awkwardly silent for a moment.

"I don't have any lip balm down here," she chewed her fingernail for a moment. "If that's why you stopped by. You have to go ups--"

"I need dating advice," he blurted out. "Again."

"Wha--"

"Where does Eddie take you out for dates?"

"I don't...they're not..."

"Because I...ok you remember the Dippin' Dots cashier?" he launched right into his story, despite her deer-in-the-headlights expression. "They agreed to go out with me--thanks, by the way--but they're...I'm afraid they're getting bored of our routine."

"Routine?" she winced.

"That's what Robin's reaction was too. Sorry, Robin, that's my friend, she works at Scoops too. Anyway..."

Steve continued his tale, telling her about your new job and general shift in likes and dislikes from day to day. How unpredictable you were, how much he liked that about you but how much he feared that meant you wouldn't like him before long.

"And I just...like them so much? I don't want to screw it up."

The Claires manager's expression had softened the longer he talked and once he was done and out of breath she smiled.

"Well this is a really nice development."

"That's all you have to say?" he asked incredulously.

Her expression fell.

"Listen, Steve, I only have 5 minutes left of my lunch and I'm very happy to give you advice if you need it but it seems like you don't really need it. You know what it is your friend likes, or rather...how your friend's likes change...you just need to be...spontaneous and deliver the unexpected!"

"But what is that?" He raked his hands through his hair. "What should I do? What does Eddie do?"

"Eddie doesn't..." she sighed. "You shouldn't just mimic what he does, but he's himself. He's goofy and loud and we do goofy and loud things. He likes snacks, I like snacks...we're constantly sharing food."

She gestured to the cheese fries.

"Just do what feels right? Be yourself. Incorporate them into things that you want and need to do. Need to go to the laundromat? Ask if they want to go and watch the soaps with you while your towels are in the dryer."

For a minute that didn't make much sense to him. That wasn't a date. Who went on dates like that? But...you know, once upon a time he used to watch his parents pretend to waltz as they folded bedsheets together. The love that used to be in their eyes during a menial task.

Not that this was love with you but...he knew he could be a little bit of a romantic. One day maybe...

"I do like All My Children," he finally nodded. "Ok this could work."

"No Steve, wait..." The manager held her hands out as he stood from the chair and started jogging back to Scoops.

"Thank you!" he shouted and waved.

---

Thus began the gauntlet of unexpected, inventive, spontaneous dates.

He started with the Laundromat; it was stuck in his head now and it was either going to be a win or the biggest failure he had. And you'd break up with him.

You were a little baffled when he told you his idea, but you went along with it. He picked you and your basket up promptly at 9am on Wednesday.

"Did your mom stop doing the wash for you Stevie?" you joked as you tossed your basket in the backseat.

"Ha ha," he deadpanned. He actually begged his mom not to snatch up his dirty Scoops uniforms from the hamper so he could take care of them himself. She gave him the proudest smile and a kiss on the forehead.

But he would never tell you that.

You, by chance, were a regular at the All Washed Up on Main Street. Said hello to Cheryl the Attendant, who was folding the hourly drop offs. Had your dollar bills all ready to go and you did a little dance as the change machine chugged and spat out quarters.

You took the lead for him, when he--understandably--looked a little confused.

"Obviously they don't have soap for you to use," you rolled your eyes and slotted coins into the little machine with different soaps and fabric softeners. "You need to bring it yourself. Or buy it. What do you like? Snuggle? Do you like lavender?"

But he still had a few tricks up his sleeves.

He brought Uno and a deck of cards to teach you to play Gin Rummy.

"Just like my granny taught me," he smiled and your expression melted.

And when you started shuffling your clothes into the dryers, he got snacks from the vending machine for you both.

"Dr. Pepper and HandiSnacks." He proudly handed you your treat.

"How did you know I always get this when I come do my laundry?" you held them to your chest excitedly.

---

A night at the arcade was next.

To be honest, Steve thought with everyone's latest obsession over StarCourt, he'd be free to show his face at the Palace Arcade.

Unfortunately, his heart stopped when he saw the gaggle of familiar bikes chained up outside.

"Ooh, ok what do you say to pizza after we play some games?" you asked when you saw the pizzeria further up the strip mall. When you turned to him, you noticed his stricken expression. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," he shrugged, trying to act cool. "No nothing, it's just...some kids I used to babysit..."

Great lie there Harrington, you still babysit them.

"...are here. Those are their bikes."

"Aww," your eyes got soft and you put on the baby voice you used to tease him sometimes. "Big bad babysitter Stevie and little his Kindergarten Crew. It'll be fine, they won't bother us playing Skee Ball."

You walked confidently into the arcade, straight to your favorite game, all while Steve sent cursory glances down each row of machines and tried to be as stealth as possible.

Like a ninja, he told Nancy once.

"Steve?" Dustin called as he spotted him ducking between a few Pac-Man cabinets. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," Steve's eyes slid in your direction and then he waved awkwardly. "Hey Henderson, you know. Killing time."

"Max is trying to unlock a secret level of Galaga," he thumbed over his shoulder. "Maybe you can get next turn if she can't."

"I'd love to I'd just--"

"Steve?" He winced at your voice behind him. "You coming?"

"Yeah," he shot you a smile and then turned back to Dustin with murderous eyes. "I was just telling this little twerp to beat it."

"This one of the kids?" you sidled up next to him and smiled at Dustin. "Hey."

"Hey!" He got a sly look on his face and wiggled his eyebrows at Steve, who looked positively livid. "You on a date there, Harrington old boy?"

"Who are you, Jay Gatsby? I like you," you laughed at Dustin and then clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I like this kid; you might as well introduce me to all the little rascals. It'll explain why you're such a PTA mom all the time."

Steve groaned as Dustin grabbed your arm and dragged you over to the rest of the kids, but he couldn't help the way his heart skipped a beat when you gave him a look of sheer glee and affection.

Maybe he was doing something right?

---

He blindfolded you for the next date--the last idea he had for this two week sprint full of creative dates--although...he might not have needed to do it for the whole car ride.

"Steve I'm gonna be sick," you had groaned pathetically from the passenger's seat of his car.

But it was worth it.

He'd gone to the mall office to grab the mail--who knew stores at the mall got mail--when he saw a pamphlet for local tourist attractions and he'd been inspired.

The Fort Wayne Children's Zoo.

You were in awe, it's such a sweet date idea.

The two of you held hands as you dodged groups of field trip goers, parents with their kids on playdates, and other bored adults. You told him fun facts about your favorite animals and his.

"I always wanted to be," you told him, nose scrunched in embarrassment. "I dunno...a vet or a...marine biologist or something. One of those big jobs that kids always dream about. Now I work at StarCourt Mall and I'm on the verge of finding a new job again."

"So do I," he chuckled. "At least you've thought about your future. I sort of never did."

"There's always time," your eyes sparkled. "We're still young and have our whole lives ahead of us. I've been looking at pamphlets for the Tri-County Community College. We could take classes in the next semester."

"Yeah?" he asked, slyly. "We?"

"Shut up," you pushed him to the side.

"Didn't know you'd still plan on dating me next year."

"Why not?"

Steve shrugged but kept his mouth shut, and then steered you towards your final destination.

The Reef.

So it wasn't a full aquarium, but it was close enough. He couldn't drive you all the way out to Indianapolis without arousing suspicion. Besides, the Reef had enough of an array of colorful marine life to make you happy. You gushed over all of the different fish that you recognized as the two of you wound through the small aquarium building.

You'd actually told him about your dream career as a kid before and he'd stored that little tidbit away. Pulled a favor with his mom to pull a favor with someone she knew and low and behold--

"Steve!" you exclaimed as you saw the little setup on the bench in front of the tank of Moon Jellies, an assortment of sandwiches and sodas basking in the blue glow emitted from behind the glass. "What's this?"

"Surprise!" He held his hands out a little pathetically. "The real date...not just the zoo but...a little picnic too."

"I love it!" you laughed.

"You do?" he beamed in relief. "I've...I've really been trying. I know...you're always so...and Robin said I was boring, so I thought maybe we could try some new dates. Not just...dinners and movies. I wanted to make you happy. Make you smile."

He kept rambling on about the other ideas he had, but then confessed that he sort of missed late dinners at Benny's on Sundays because he got to hold your hand across the table. He didn't notice the way your gaze got softer as he said the things that you'd been thinking all day--because these spontaneous dates were great but you missed the sweet dinners at Benny's and the movie nights where you made out in the back row at the Hawk during boring scenes--or how you inched closer you him until your hands were caressing his cheeks and your lips descended on his.

From the outside looking in, it was almost picturesque.

Something from a John Hughes movie as the two of you rocked back and forth in the glow of the jellyfish tank and one big smooch turned into little sweet ones, soft lips pecking at each other, over and over. Tasting the words that you each wanted to say to one another but...didn't quite have the courage to.

Yet.

Next Part: Developmental Achievement

#stranger things fic #Steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington fic #store manager verse #Steve harrington fluff #scoops steve

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oliver1irl · 21 days

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♡ ALICE X GN! READER ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alice x Gn!Bubbly!Reader˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

SUMMARY: Alice spared your life and is slowly getting used to you <3 (can be seen as platonic or romantic)

(I LOVE HER SM; also I am aware that this doesn't scream “BUBBLY READER” but it is how all met so of course you aren't going to be bubbly when you are about to die)

DIALOG DETAILS:

None today. . . Editing is a pain in my ass maybe next time!!!

Warnings: Angsty-ish (Mostly on Alice’s part), Fluff(at the end), Blood (Reader got a small cut on their cheek), Mentions of Claire's death (In the 3rd person part), I sort of project myself into Alice in her POV, Enemies to ??? (IMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!!!!)

This fic is based on the song: ‘ARE WE STILL FREINDS’ by Tyler the Creator and ‘Red Tears’ by The Johns

ENJOY!!

You had failed your Math test and were running from Miss Circle when you saw a door that said ‘EXIT’. . . Without thinking you entered the room and were led into a dark room. . .

This wasn’t the exit, it was Alice’s room, you hear low growling from a dark corner. Then suddenly a raspy feminine voice begins to say “What are you doing here, in my room” You felt a chill run up your spine, you felt frozen, couldn’t speak or move. . . Is this how you die? You haven't lived life…Haven't had a first love, Gotten a scholarship, Gone to college, Felt Heartbreak, or even had your first kiss. . . Is this how you will die?

The voice spoke again with a much more aggressive tone “I said. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE”. This time she didn’t wait for a response instead a large razor-sharp spike sprouted from the ground, knocking you over, and you felt blood trickle down your left cheek….

Your life flashed in front of your eyes.There Alice was in front of you, in all her terrifying glory….There are rumors that she tears people apart limb from limb and eats them, or that she is such a monster that even the devil himself fears her, there's many rumors…What isn't helping her case is what she did to Claire, the poor girl was torn apart and some of her organs were gone…That only made everyone think “This is Alice’s world, we are only living in it” and it was true this isn't our world or our life…Life is carefree but with Alice’s presence known, Life is anything but carefree….

Her claws protracted and she stared with glowing red eyes… you were terrified, all you could do was sit there and accept it, you closed your eyes expecting to be slashed by Alice’s claws, but Alice didn't kill you, instead, she stared down at you with sympathy in her eyes. “Get up” She helps you up, you're still terrified..but thankful, thankful for the fact she spared your life… “why did you spare me?” your voice was shaky and quiet, nothing like your usual self…

(ALICE’S POV)

I dont know why I spared them, the fear in their eyes, the fact that they didn't fight back…its probably just pity, but their face, the terror, the utter fear of dying young…I dont know why I spared them, it should have been easy for me to kill them but their face made me think of the past when I was sweet, but this cruel world turned me bitter….I see my reflection in their eyes, I just could have killed such an innocent soul as theirs, in cold blood…I can’t, I just can’t…

“I- I dont know why…I just couldn’t” I looked into their eyes, and all I could see was fear but an underlining of gratitude…Looking into their eyes was like looking into a mirror showing the same soul different body…I brush a stray strand of hair out of their face, I reach into my pocket for a bandaid and put it on their cut…”There much better, are you okay?” they were still shaking and still terrified but they responded regardless

“I am fine, just a little shaken up”“I think it's best you rest for a bit” I try to make my voice sound soothing even though I haven’t had human interaction in a while…After sitting them down, I sit next to them…I dont know why but I wanted to get to know them… “What's your name?” they responded hesitantly but I can't blame them for that, their attacker was trying to know them…It's weird, but regardless they responded. “My name is [Name]...”

(YOUR POV) It felt weird to see Alice so nice and calm, she noticed I was shaking still, and she suddenly pulled me into a hug…It's unexpected but not unwelcomed, she smelled nice like rose petals and jasmine tea. I started to calm down, she patted my hair softly….I started to fall asleep which Alice quickly noticed because of the sudden weight change…. “Goodnight, [name]. . .Sweet Dreams”

(RAHHHHHHHHHH I LOBE THIS!!!)

#fpe #fundamental paper education #fanfic #fandom #Alice fpe #Fpe x reader

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heliads · 1 year

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hii! i've been reading a lot of your four fics and i simply need more so here's my requestt, four x dauntless!reader and when she's going into the fear simulation she got scared of the needle so he calm her down. any pronoun is fine and if you don't wanna write it it's also fine lol, so no pressure. tysm i adore you!

y/n is so me for being scared of the needle

masterlist

Most people are scared of what is about to come. This is unusual– not that people would ever feel fear, just that they would show it. This is Dauntless, after all, the place kids born without inhibitions go for cheap thrills and a superiority complex. No one here likes to give off any indication of terror if they could avoid it.

This is different, though. This isn’t another day of Phase One initiation where you’re jumping over the sides of buildings or throwing a few punches. Those are tests, you know how to pass those. The fear landscape, however? Now that’s something no one has any clue how to handle.

The mystery surrounding it all just makes the whole experience worse. Even the few initiates amongst your numbers who’ve managed to win over some older Dauntless can’t glean a single piece of information from their already established compatriots about what you’re going to encounter in the simulations. It’s all in your head, literally. There are no limits to the nightmares your own brain can dream up.

Thus the first afternoon of Phase Two of Dauntless initiation finds a hallway lined with apprehensive trainees all waiting for their turn in the simulation. A couple of rooms are being used for fear landscapes at the moment, so there’s a slow trickle of traumatized initiates coming out of shadowy doors every few minutes or so. Some trainees take longer than others. Some are in there so long you half doubt if they’ll ever come out. All emerge looking like they’ve just had their heart ripped out of their chests.

The screams don’t make the waiting any easier, either. Every now and then, a shrill cry of terror will issue out from one of the locked doors, a clear hallmark of the mental warfare going on inside. In the beginning, everyone would jump the second they heard a muffled yell down the corridor, but hours have passed and fraught tempers have grown weary. Now all you do is sigh to yourselves whenever another victim screams, wondering how much longer you’ll have to put up with all of this before it’s your turn instead.

Waiting is only just that, though, waiting for some grander goal, and at some point, your time of waiting is done. A scared looking boy exits the door on the left, clutching his hands as if searching for wounds that aren’t there, and then your name is called instead. It takes a moment to get up, your body lagging half a second behind your brain, and then you’re out of your chair and down the hall before you even know what’s happening.

There isn’t much time to think between hearing your name and closing the door behind you. You look up and realize the room looks quite similar to the place you did your simulation prior to the Choosing Ceremony. At least there are no new threats. The only change from before is that, instead of some wary looking woman with sleeves pulled low over tattoos, you’re greeted with the sight of one of the initiation leaders. Four.

You can’t help feeling a slight rush of relief. Of anyone here delivering your test, you’d much rather have Four than, say, Eric Coulter. Four is just as intimidating, of course, but Eric’s got this way of making you uneasy. He’s too cruel. At least Four can be counted on to be fair.

Four gestures towards the chair in the center of the room. “Take a seat. Are you ready for this?”

You arch a brow as you settle yourself into an uncomfortable reclined position on the seat. “Was there a chance you’d let me out if I said no?”

Four might chuckle, either that or he was struck by an urgent need to cough. “No, there wasn’t.”

He disappears somewhere behind the range of your peripheral vision and emerges a few moments later holding a needle. It looks highly unpleasant, the metal gleaming in the dim light of the simulation room as if proof of how much this is going to hurt. This is Dauntless, however; this is not a place where you can afford to wince or shrink away from anything lest you see your rankings drop in a second.

You force yourself to stay calm, training your eyes on a bright red light on some machinery across the room instead of the needle puncturing your skin. The moment seems to last forever, and just as you’re certain that the simulation didn’t take, you blink and you’re no longer in Dauntless. In fact, you’re in the middle of nowhere, a broken down city where the wind whistling through shell-shocked skyscrapers sounds more like the howling of people than any tune of quickly moving air.

This is your fear landscape, then. It takes you a few minutes to struggle through that fear, and then you’re successively hit by a few you expected and some you didn’t, too. Hopefully, you’re making good progress, but there is no way to tell for sure. In fact, it’s hard to even remember that you’re in a simulation at all. The programming is too strong, too good at eliciting a fear response from your brain.

You defeat what you thought might be your last fear and find yourself in the simulation room again. Four is still standing over you, needle in hand.

“That didn’t take,” he said, “you’re going to have to go through again.”

He holds out the needle, which seems much sharper than before. This time, blood wells up when he injects you, and every second seems to stretch into hours. There is no light to stare at this time, and your eyes keep finding the needle again and again, no matter how hard you try otherwise. Your fingers clench into fists so long that you can feel your nails slice through your palms. Forcing your breathing to slow and steady, you inhale, exhale, inhale until you look up and Four is nowhere to be seen. The truth about being in a simulation comes crashing back to you, and you realize you must have finally woken up.

Four walks back to you, brow furrowed. You wince at his expression, taking that to mean that you must not have done too well. It had felt like you weren’t struggling with your fears all that much, but maybe you were wrong.

“How did I do?” You ask tentatively.

Four shakes his head dismissively. “Fine, fine. Solidly above the average, it’ll keep your ranking where it is if not improve it. I just want to ask about your last fear.”

You feel the sudden need to look away. “I faced it, right? No problems there.”

“Yeah, you faced it,” he frowns, “but it made no sense. Are you scared of the fear landscape? Of me?”

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or run from the room. Both feel like solid options at the moment. “No, neither. I’m, uh–” You pause, trying and failing to muster up the energy to finish the sentence, then give up at last and spill your secret. “I’m afraid of needles.”

Four blinks at you in surprise, then laughs for real this time. He does his best to cover it up, of course, but he’s still unable to fight a grin.

You glare pointedly at him. “Thanks for the support. No need to make me feel like any more of an idiot.”

The corners of Four’s lips still stubbornly refuse to tamp themselves down into his typical stony expression. “Sorry, I swear. It’s just– needles? Really? This is Dauntless. You’ve done so many simulations. You’ll probably get tattoos. Needles are everywhere, and you came here?”

You give him a look. “There are other things to Dauntless than just needles, Four. I thought you would know that having, you know, lived here? Go make fun of some other guy’s simulation, mine is perfectly fine.”

“Well, you’re definitely not scared of me,” Four observes, “Still, it’s funny. Anyway, you’re right, I shouldn’t laugh. You’re free to go.”

Despite his solemn expression, his eyes are still twinkling with barely disguised mirth. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and let yourself out. Four’s voice rings out behind you, calling the name of the next victim of the fear landscape.

You don’t think you had that bad of a time of it, though. Sure, the simulation itself wasn’t the best of experiences, but what happened afterwards made all of the terror of it fade away somehow, slipping back into distant memory already. When you think about the fear landscape, you don’t recall the horrors of being inside your worst nightmares, just the way Four tilts his head back when he laughs, how easy it was for his cold demeanor to warm when he smiled at you.

Perhaps that is not why you view the second trial of the fear landscapes with as much dread as anyone else. Your friends are all huddled together with haunted expressions at the mere thought of returning, but you’re actually doing alright. Your spirits are only improved when Four calls your name again instead of Eric, and then you’re back in the simulation room and he’s smiling again.

It’s much easier for Four to revert back to that same state of good spirits. He hardly bothers with an initial glower at the beginning, already looking pleased to see you. It makes you wonder why

Four holds up the simulation needle with a teasing expression on his face and you give him a sour look. “Don’t even,” you begin, and he holds up his free hand in mock surrender.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he assures you.

This time, Four pauses when he goes to inject you. He takes a seat on the side of the reclined chair, studying your expression for any sign of hesitation.

“Look at me,” he tells you, “not the needle, me. I know you’re going to be fine.”

Something about the way he says it, so confident in your abilities despite only having seen you go through the fear landscape once, erases the last of the worries from your brow. You settle back into the chair, and you swear that this time, the simulation doesn’t take nearly as long to kick up. The needle has hardly pierced your skin before you’re gone from this world and into the one devised by your mind. The last sight you see is Four leaning over you, and that’s the one greeting you when you wake up, too.

The simulations aren’t so bad after that. Part of that is because it’s hard to feel as scared when you know you have Four there on the other side, a calm presence believing in you every time. The two of you start talking more and more during your simulation time slots, and as you progress through the fear landscapes faster, your conversations grow in turn.

One time, the numbers of initiates were swapped around a little as trainees dropped out and you had to do your fear landscape with Eric proctoring instead. You still got through it just fine, but the experience wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. You were with Four the next time, though. There were rumors that Four had complained and switched the order back to the way it was, but no one knows why. You have a theory, but you don’t dare bring it up to anyone else.

Soon enough, you’ve reached the end of Phase Two of training. After that, graduation from initiation is upon you, and you find yourself walking out of your final simulation with a glowing score. Your ranking is great, high enough that you should have no problem finding the job you want. It’s certainly the best outcome you could have hoped for, but somehow you still find yourself a little bittersweet that certain things will come to an end.

Four finds you later that night, standing at a railing looking over the bustling view of the Dauntless complex below. Everyone is active in some way, throwing parties to welcome in the new initiates or hurrying to tamp down their normal lives before everything is thrown into commotion by a new round of Dauntless jumping into the thick of things.

“You’re not celebrating?” He asks by way of greeting.

You lift a shoulder. “I will. I want to take a moment before all that, though. Just to reflect on it all. Initiation was hard.”

“Didn’t seem that way for you,” Four muses, “you were good the whole way through.”

“Even despite the simulations being my literal greatest fear?” You laugh.

Four smiles, but it’s quieter, more serious. “Even then. This was all you, Y/N. I was there, but it was you.”

You exhale slowly, look back over the city that might be yours more than you ever thought possible. “And now that it’s over? Will you still be there?”

You don’t dare to so much as glance at him lest you see yourself disappointed, but out of the corner of your eye, you can detect movement, Four turning to survey Dauntless as well. “I will be,” he decides at last, “I think I will.”

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