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norrisleclercf1 · 14 days

Text

Siren Eyes

Pairing: Siren!Lando Norris x Human Reader x Werewolf Oscar \

PART 1 OF 2

Rating: R

Words: 7.5K

Warnings: Angst, hating one self, panic/anxiety attacks, also kinda made Daniel a villain but don't worry

Synopsis: Lando's excited about his new teammate, until this new teammate has him losing control

A/N: woah, the love for this fic I have is insane, honestly I couldn't be prouder of myself for writing this

Lando wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep; instead, he was sitting in a stupid meeting, learning about his new teammate. "He's a werewolf, but very calm and keeps to himself, so I think that's perfect for you after...Daniel." Lando sighed, closing his eyes as he remembered what happened when Daniel learned the truth about Lando. The way he felt unsafe, and the team dealt with it swiftly. He'll always be grateful as McLaren has been the only team to openly not oppose what Lando is. He's forever thankful. "He does have a girlfriend; from what we know, they're rather private; she's a human, sweet girl," Zak adds, and Lando nods.

"And, does he know?" Zak's response was a gentle shake of the head, and Lando's understanding was clear in his nod. Oscar remained unaware of Lando's true nature, a decision that Lando believed was in their mutual best interest. "Now, he'll be here in a few days to join us for promotions, pictures, and all the boring stuff you hate. But he's a sweet kid; don't put him at arm's distance, okay?" Lando sighs, looking out of the large windows and staring at the green plains of Woking. "Yeah, alright."

The meeting ends; Zak hangs back, Lando making no attempt to stand, much less leave, as he stares at the picture of Oscar smiling. "He's a good kid; I don't think he'll care what you are, Lando. He's from Australia. They're the first real country to be open to the idea of," "Sirens? That's because they're Australian, surrounded by water, and have a fairly large population." Lando huffs and looks up, taking in the statistics. "He's going to give me hell, isn't he?" Zak snorts and leans on his chair, folding his hands. "Yes,"

Lando sits up and takes off his sunglasses, his sea-green eyes sparkling in the sun; with a smirk, Lando leans back, staring at the picture. "Bring it on,"

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Oscar groans when he feels pressure on his chest. He knows what the weight is, and honestly, he wishes it was a different kind of weight. Slowly blinking, he comes face to face with Mr. Orange, your cat. He hoped it was you sitting on his chest. Instead, it's the damn cat. When you started dating, he clarified that he was a werewolf; you just rolled your eyes and didn't care. Being human and dating a supernatural wasn't uncommon but not overly popular.

When you made it clear you had a cat, Oscar groaned loudly; cats and he didn't mix well. But since he started staying over, Mr. Orange, this old, grumpy, fluff ball of an orange cat, has not left his side. The cat actually prefers Oscar over you. Oscar would never admit it, but he grew close to the cat and started getting used to its weight, which he wakes up to. "Morning, Mr. Orange," The cat just blinks at Oscar, purring slightly when Oscar scratches behind his ear.

"Oscar, phone call," You don't have to yell; he can hear you clearly as he groans and buries his head in the pillow, wanting to hide from the world. "Who is it?" He yells, and your sweet giggle has him smiling. "Zak Brown?" Oscar jumps up, Mr. Orange voicing his displeasure at losing his pillow, running down the stairs, Oscar following. "Seriously?" You giggle, holding the phone, and nod; grabbing it, he places it on his ear.

"Mr. Brown, hi." You snicker, and Oscar waves you off, slapping your ass which has you running to the kitchen. "Oscar, good morning; I hope I didn't wake you," Zak jokes, as it is well-known how much Oscar loved his sleep. "No sir, actually just got done with training." You snort a laugh, and Oscar glares at you in the doorway. You stick your tongue and slowly start to raise the shirt that you're wearing. Oscar sucks in a breath and cuts you a look that says to knock it off.

Smiling, you turn back to cooking and groan, having to reach something, the edge of the shirt rising, and Oscar about loses it there; you weren't wearing any underwear. Your perfect ass was on full display. "Oscar? Oscar?!" Oscar shakes his head and turns away, trying to ignore his blood rushing south. "Yes, sir, I'm thrilled to have joined the team and to work with Lando." Zak sighed. He was glad to hear that, and Oscar was proud of his media training.

He wasn't lying. He was excited to work with McLaren and Lando but couldn't help but be a little weary, sensing they were keeping something from him. "Um, Mr. Brown," "Please call me Zak," "Okay, um, Zak," Oscar rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to approach the topic. "There isn't anything you're hiding, is there? I mean, about the team, I figured I'd have already met Lando properly," Oscar, with his excellent hearing, can hear how Zak stops breathing for a second before letting out a nervous chuckle.

"Lando is just, well Lando. , you'll meet him properly in Woking. I hope that isn't an issue. That way, we'll talk in person. It's easier to explain." Oscar jumps when cold hands touch his warm skin. Calming down, Oscar covers your hands with just one of his and smiles, feeling your body push into his back. Oscar smiles when he feels your hand travel down and gently slide past the waist of his boxers. "Yes, Zak, that's perfectly fine." Oscar bites the inside of his cheek, feeling your hand grab his cock and start to slowly move up and down, and you place butterfly kisses on his back and shoulders.

"I'm glad, and also, Oscar?" Oscar pulls the phone away, letting out a low groan, and then pressing the phone back to his ear. "Yes?" "Congratulations on becoming a Formula 1 Driver." "Thank you," Oscar hangs up the phone; taking your hand out, he spins and leans against the counter. "What are you doing?" He groans as you slowly sink to your knees and giggle. "About to blow my gorgeous, talented Formula 1 driver boyfriend." You comment, pull his boxers down, and lick your lips.

"Yeah?" He asks, fingers cupping your cheek. You lean up and lick from his balls to his tip, sucking it, and he throws his head back. Pulling off, you smile up at him. "Yeah, he just a got a Formula 1 seat and a future World Champ; think that allows a blowjob, don't you?" Oscar groans low in his throat. It's almost a growl, "Fuck, yes." You smirked and placed a kiss on his hip as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the way your mouth felt on him.

----------------------------

Lando lays his head on the conference room table, sunglasses on and hood over his head, taking slow, deep breaths. It's odd, but he used to ask Carlos what it was like to smell and hear everything within a mile. Carlos would chuckle and ruffle his hair.

"I can choose to turn it on and off, muppet." Lando would blush and crave Carlos's touch. Carlos was never afraid of Lando, as Carlos and Lando had a different love that was pure and based on brotherly love. With Daniel, he acted like he was okay with Lando being a siren when, really, he kept Lando at arm's length. It hurt; it made him miss Carlos. He would always slink off and sit with Carlos and Charles.

It helped that they weren't attracted to Lando, so his powers and eyes would not affect them. Charles was a vampire, so he understood people's avoiding him and helped Lando hide his supernatural marks. Lando would be forever grateful when Carlos and Charles took him to a shop for vampires. It had contact lenses that could match his eye color; they were enchanted, so whenever he wore them, people could look at him in the eyes and not know he was a siren.

Lando was wearing them now, but he was still careful. He would lie if he said he was relaxed about meeting Oscar. Oscar, a werewolf, was this extraordinary talent and probably came in and dethroned him as McLaren's golden boy. The door opens, and Lando groans, tightening his arms around his head. "You're early," Lando looks up at the dark outline of Adrea Stella, the Team Principal of McLaren.

"You said to be here at 7. It's only 6:45." Lando whispers, looking at the giant clock on the wall. "Still," Andrea grumbles and starts lying out files. He smacks Lando gently on the head with his. "He's a good kid, won't be like," "I don't want him to know at all. The only people on the grid who know are Charles, Carlos, Max, and Daniel. But I don't think he'll say anything." Lando whispers; Andrea nods his head but is still worried about Lando.

Everyone starts to float in, Lando sliding off his glasses and hood and ruffling his hair as time passes. "He does know where MTC is, right?" Lando asks, earning a couple of chuckles as Zak sighs and gives him a look. "What? He's about 15 minutes late." Lando defends himself, raising his hands. The door opens, and this boy with pale, perfect skin, round brown eyes, and soft, messy hair tumbles in. He is wearing an all-black outfit and smiles softly. Lando can tell immediately that this is Oscar, who was smaller when they last met, and now he is a buffer.

"Oscar, welcome." Zak and Andrea stand, as does everyone else, but Lando is stilln't too shocked by Oscar's beauty. If anyone didn't know Oscar was a werewolf, they'd think he was the Siren with his perfect lips and stunning smile. "Hey, sorry I'm late, I overslept." Oscar mumbles, his cheeks a dusty pink, and Lando licks his lips. He can feel the tug in his chest and clears his throat, shaking off the twitch in his powers.

Oscar makes his way around; Lando stands clumsily and holds out his hand when Oscar gets to him. "Hey, Oscar," Lando smiles brightly. "Yeah, I know, Lando. But you know that already," Lando and Oscar still shake hands until Zak clears his throat, making the two slowly stop and drop their hands. Lando grows cold again, missing the warmth that was tickling up his arm. "Well, why don't we start. Oscar moves around Lando, sits down in front of Lando, and watches the screen. Lando sits down slowly, unable to stop his eyes trailing to the back of Oscar's head.

Lando twitches when he hears a soft vibrating noise. Oscar slowly looks around and slips his hand into the pocket of his black jacket. Pulling it out, he smiles. Lando hates how his skin crawls; that smile is so sweet and soft that he remembers hearing Oscar have a girlfriend. Oscar's fingers move, typing a quick reply before pocketing his phone. Oscar slowly raises his hand, and Lando can't help but think how cute he is.

"Yes, Oscar?" Andrea calls, the lights flicking on, Lando blinks his eyes fast, but Oscar, with near-perfect eyes for a werewolf, doesn't even budge. "When you called me, it sounded like you were hiding something about the team; what is it?" Lando goes so fucking still he's sure Oscar would clock the fact he even stopped breathing. Oscar doesn't show awareness, staring hard at Zak and Andrea, who keep sharing looks.

"There's an issue with the car, and we won't be able to fix it until Austria....it will be a hard start of the season," Andrea admits, and Lando sighs. Oscar nods, satisfied with the answer. "How bad are the issues?" He presses, and Lando is proud that the little rookie isn't afraid to ask the hard questions. "That's a good question. Will we look good in pre-season testing or be a laughing stock?" Lando asks, leaning back. Oscar casts a glance but quickly looks back at Zak and Andrea.

"With the data, we're looking at being dead last; we'll most definitely be lapped and a possible DNF, maybe even for both cars," Andrea admits; Oscar finally looks at Lando, who is just leaning back in his chair with a slight smirk. "I like a challenge, do you Osc?" Oscar looks away, and Lando chuckles, seeing the slight blush on his pretty, pale skin. Lando can't help but wish he could make Oscar blush that prettily again. "Yeah," Oscar clears his throat and sits up straight. "I like a challenge."

Zak and Andrea stare at each other before smiling at one another. "Perfect,"

--------------------------------

"Hey mate," Lando jumps so far out of his skin that he fears he'll never get it back. Turning, he glares at Max, who sits on his couch with Petra, watching some trashy show. "How.." "We have a key for emergencies," Petra smiles, and Lando can't even argue, as he's grateful for his friends. "How was the meeting?" Max asks, sitting up slowly and looking over Lando. Max was one of Lando's best friends and the only one who never cared that he was a siren. Max was human and loved him; he didn't care if Lando was different; Lando was his brother.

"It was fine," Lando looks away, trying to hide his blush as he hangs up his jacket, still wearing his sweatshirt. Petra and Max share a look, and both smirk, "Just fine?" She drawls out, biting the inside of his cheek; Lando glances at them sideways and moves to the kitchen. Petra is right before him, moving faster than light, giggling. "Stupid vampire speed," Lando grumbles as he faces Max, smugly looking his best friend up and down. "Does the bay have a crush?" His teasing tone has Lando pout, dragging himself to the couch.

"He's cute," Lando drawls out the 'e,' his head thrown back and eyes closed. He pictures Oscar smiling at him as they leave the factory. "Lando, he is aware, yes?" Petra asks, crawling onto the couch, sitting on his other side, and pressing herself into his side. Lando's head flops and lands on her shoulder; Max's weight leaves the couch as he heads to the kitchen, probably to get Lando's favorite Jon-approved snacks. "Petra, why'd he have to be cute," Lando whines, Max comes back, dumping the bags on the couch, and Lando happily digs into them.

"Mate, it's okay that he's cute. You learned to control your powers with Carlos, and Daniel was the real test," Max says as he sits on Lando's other side, the couple cuddling their friend. "Carlos, I just idolized him; he's my big brother and Daniel," Lando sighs; they had a challenging relationship initially, not really liking each other. But, as the year went on, and into the second year as teammates, Daniel had found out and didn't take it well. Daniel raised concerns with the team, and the team lashed him for saying Lando was only doing better cause he was using his powers.

Lando was hurt, hurt that someone, yet again, was using what he was against him. Daniel even threatened to go to the FIA. He intended to report that Lando was a siren and used his powers to get ahead. The team shut it down immediately, and Daniel lost his seat. It was very tense, with some static between them, but it was improving. Daniel has apologized for what he did, and Lando accepted it, but that didn't mean things could return to how they were.

"We know, buddy," Max whispers, playing with Lando's hair. Groaning loudly, Lando hides his face on a pillow. "He even has a girlfriend, which isn't a shocker; he's cute, funny, has great dry humor, and just....perfect." With Petra covering her mouth, Lando gushes, trying not to giggle at her friend's expense. "Well, maybe that's a good thing, him having a girlfriend, mate. You can remember that when your....song gets out of hand." Lando looks at him, confused.

"Song? I don't know what triggers my powers, much less causes me to use them. I barely know anything about what I am. My parents are human, and I'm the freak of nature." Lando snaps, Max cringes and Petra sighs, knowing it wasn't fair to Lando. Being a siren in a family that was forever thought to be human, only to find out, was far from the truth. They try their best for Lando; Cisca and Adam are always there for him, but they don't understand, and there isn't much lore about sirens. All people knew were from the Odyssey, which didn't give them a good reputation. That's the only piece of work on sirens, and anytime someone heard the word Siren, they ran.

"We're still looking; we'll find something, Lando, we promise," Max whispers, pulling his friend close and kissing the top of his head.

----------------------

Oscar holds his arms out as you run at him, squealing loudly. He chuckles, happily catching you, spinning you around, and you wrap your legs around his waist. "How was it? Was it everything you dreamed? I'm sure it was!" You rapid fire at him; Oscar laughs, carrying you deeper into the apartment and placing you on the counter so he is at eye level with you. "It was good, but we're going to be struggling hard until Austria, but that's okay. People won't expect much from me, and I can just chill and learn the teamwork and all that." Oscar kisses the tip of your nose, still wearing what he left you this morning. His shirt, and only his shirt.

"Well, that's good, and Lando?" You ask softly, watching Oscar's reaction, a slight blush, and you start to smile. "Knew it, I knew you'd find him attractive." You giggle, and Oscar sighs, resting his forehead on your shoulder. "Y/n," Oscar groans, wrapping his arms around your waist, squeezing slightly. "He is beautiful and has such pretty eyes." Oscar snorts, "Yeah, but we wear those stupid vampire contacts." Cocking your head to the side, you hum. "I didn't know he's a vampire; that explains why he's so good-looking." Oscar shakes his head.

"No, he's not a vampire. He didn't smell like iron and earth. He....smelled like the sea, but that's probably because he lives in Monaco. He's not human, but it's not my place, and the team seems to ignore it, so I should, too." You move your fingers through his hair and tug softly. "Hey, I'm sure he'd tell you when he's ready," You knew this was bothering Oscar more than he'd let on. The team hid more than the car's status; they seemed nervous when Oscar asked about the earlier conversation and how Lando stopped breathing.

It worried Oscar. Initially, he was going to ask about Lando's status. Still, he knew how everyone reacted, so he avoided that conversation and quickly changed it to the car. Lando started to breathe again, which calmed Oscar down; he didn't like upsetting the older Brit. It spiked Oscar's own anxiety when he felt Lando go still and stop breathing. It took everything in Oscar to not reach over and palce a hand on his knee. It was a reflex he did with you when you got nervous and felt that same protectiveness wrap around his heart.

"Yeah, maybe; I'm hoping we're teammates for a long time," Oscar mumbles, fingers digging into your hips, taking a deep breath, smelling your shampoo and favorite lotion. "I hope you two are teammates for a long time, too." You whisper, rubbing between his shoulders, feeling the tension get released. "I'm sure everything will work out," Oscar nods, "Can we take a nap," Right on queue, Mr. Orange appears, meowing softly and rubbing his head at Oscar's ankles. "Of course," Oscar lifts you up, carrying you with ease, as you two walk down the small steps into the open space and fall onto the fluffy bed.

Oscar and you giggle, letting the sun glow softly on your skin, leaving soft kisses and words as you two sleep.

---------------------------

Lando wanted to scream and rip his driver's room apart. He'd felt anger before, but this rage was unexplainable. It was hot, burning liquid in his throat. Something inside him was clawing at his throat. He knew it was something evil, and he was terrified. His driver's room door was closed, locked to protect anyone from him.

A knock at the door rigidifies his body, and the knock is soft again. "Lando, are you okay?" Lando covers his mouth, feeling that darkness in him claw his way out. Oscar's sweet voice makes him whimper, and he hates that he made a sound; Oscar could hear it. "Lando, are you okay?" Oscar's voice sounds slightly panicky, his door handle wobbling under the pressure of Oscar's grip.

"Oscar, go away," The jingling stops, feet walk away, and Lando whimpers, feeling the bile in his throat. Fuck, he had used his powers on Oscar. Lando hated this feeling; when his emotions got out of control, he felt something clawing at him, ripping him from the inside out. And he couldn't run away, couldn't leave. He needed to be here for the team.

The door handle wobbles again, Lando curling in on himself, stopping himself from yelling. To prevent the darkness in him from escaping, the door creaks, and suddenly, it's open. "Mon cheri," the velvet French calms his heart, mewling practically as two more bodies fill the room, the door closing. Shhhh, it's okay. Deep breaths, Carlos, come here." Lando doesn't open his eyes, instantly feeling the warmth.

Gasping out, Lando sobs, burying himself into the warm chest of Carlos. Carlos whispers soft Spanish in his ear, Charles murmuring in French. Something cold touches his skin, causing him to hiss before the familiar hand on his neck. "You're okay, Lando, we've got you," Max whispers, crouching beside Charles. Lando slowly peels his eyes open, burning as he stares at Max. Max's blue eyes mirror, smiling softly; Lando blinks, feeling this calmness wash over him.

"You're using your powers," Lando whispers, his ugliness dying. Max's hand is slightly warm but comforting. "I am; you seemed to be struggling with... this." Max chooses his words carefully. Charles rests his head on Max's shoulder, smiling gently. "Hey, there," Charles whispers, running fingers through Lando's sweaty curls. "I'm here," Carlos whispers, pulling away, but Lando chases after him and clings to Carlos. "Don't leave," Lando's voice so vulnerable and raw that Carlos can't help but growl softly, "I'm not leaving you," Carlos whispers, tightening his grip.

"How," Lando takes a deep breath, his chest shaking as he feels his anxiety comes down. "How'd you know?" Lando whispers, hiding his face in Carlos's neck, loving the smell of his cologne. "Oscar was pacing outside; he seemed distressed, and we were talking. He knows we're close, and that's how we knew," Max whispers, sitting down properly, Charles moving to curl into Max. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to be here with me. Charles, you had a bad race, too." Lando whispers, hand grabbing Charles's free hand and holding it close.

"Eh, typical Ferrari, but nothing like yours." Lando cringes, Max and Charles giving him a pity smile. "Should've DNF'd would've hurt worse." Carlos chuckles and pulls Lando off the couch and into his lap so he can curl up with the others. "I used my powers on Oscar. I didn't mean to," He whispers, disgusted with himself. The first race, and he's already fucked up. "Lando, it's okay. You were under a lot of stress; everyone has a flare-up." Max tries to comfort him, but Lando shakes his head.

"This isn't like calming or angering someone by accident, Max," Lando spits, feeling angry that they think what he did was okay. "I can make people do whatever I say; it's unnatural." Lando looks down, picking at the skin around his nails. "Lando," Carlos growls, grabbing his friend by the hands and making him face him. "It's not unnatural; you're a siren, and their voices are powerful. That's not a bad thing. You just got worked up, and that's fine. You think I haven't lost control, Charles or Max haven't? It happens, and it'll happen again. You can only control how you react to it, which will make the difference." Carlos presses a soft kiss to Lando's temple.

"I know; maybe I should return to therapy or buy those special mouthguards. "No," All three growl. It was a mouth guard given out by the FIA for any supernatural they deemed dangerous. It was a barbaric practice that Sebastian and Lewis had fought for years. Meant for wolves, vampires, and anything else the FIA didn't like, it was another way to control the drivers. "You buy one, and I swear to god, I'll call your mother." Lando cringes at that threat, knowing that Cisca would rip the world.

"But," "No," Charles's accent thick, his gorgeous hazel eyes a dark red. "Lando, we don't care if you use your voice on us; it happens; I mean shit, I feed off Carlos sometimes," "What?" Max growls, "Nothing, babe, anyways, we're family, and sometimes we have to use our gifts on each other. Besides, you've never caused harm." Charles tries to comfort him, and Lando sighs, moving and welcoming him into Charles and Max's arms. "I know, but," A large hand covers Lando's mouth, and warm chocolate eyes stare into Lando's sea-green eyes.

"Lando, no buts; if we didn't love or feel safe around you, we wouldn't be here, but we're here. We'll always be here," Carlos whispers, bumping his forehead against Lando's. "Lando!" The men all stiffen, hearing Andrea's voice. "We have the video to film. Is everything okay?" Lando takes a deep breath; pine, sweat, lavender, champagne, and damp earth fill Lando's nose, the smell of his family. "Yeah! Be out in a second!" Lando calls, sounding his usual self. Carlos smiles, placing a soft kiss on Lando's cheek.

"I miss those eyes of yours," He whispers and hugs Lando close, who relishes in Carlos's warmth. Lando craves to be warm.

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Oscar can't help but pace back and forth, trying to rack his brain about why he just left Lando like that. Even though he was outside surrounded by different smells, the smell of fear, anger, and disgust still lingers in his nose. He no longer wears his race suit, just his black shorts and signature orange shirt. Hissing, Oscar looks down, seeing his finger torn to shreds. He had been biting the loose skin, trying to calm himself.

He couldn't understand why Lando was so upset, which drove him. He was so close to breaking the door down that Lando spoke; a sweet taste was in his mouth as he walked away. Now, his head just felt heavy, and his mouth was dry. "What's up," Oscar spins, almost headbutting Lando, who was smiling like nothing happened. It did nothing to calm Oscar's nerves. "Lando," Oscar reaches out, but Lando pulls back, fixing his curls, placing his hat on top, and smirking. "We've got a video to film, and say how I finished last and to trust the process." Lando skips slightly, heading up the stairs.

"You didn't finish last," Lando stops, turning around and looking at Oscar. "What?" Oscar clears his throat, looking away as he rubs the back of his neck. "You didn't finish last, I did." Cocking his head to the side, Oscar tries hard to keep himself together. Lando looks like a baby owl in his mind when he does that. "I DNF'd first; technically, I finished last." Lando snickers, covering his mouth before it escapes, and it turns into a huge body laugh.

Oscar freezes. Hearing Lando laugh flustered him; something in him wanted to hear Lando's laugh more than anything in the world. His lips quirk up, turning into a full-blown smile. "Yeah," Lando catches a breath and gives him a gorgeous smile, lighting up Oscar's face. Yeah, you're right." Lando turns around, walking up the stairs, but Oscar stays still, Lando's laugh ringing in his ears, perfect little bells.

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"Can I meet him, pleaseeee," Oscar sighs as you lay on his massage table, giving him puppy eyes and a lovely view of your cleavage. "Y/n, can you let me get dressed before you're hounding me about my teammate," You groan and flip around, buttoning up your lilac shirt. "We're in Australia, and I still haven't met him; it's literally 3 hours before the race; it's like you're trying to keep him away from me," Pouting, Oscar tries hard not to take you again to the table.

"I'm not keeping him from you, maybe lessening the blow." You mock gasp and sit up fast. Oscar Jack Piastri, how dare you! Are you saying I'm too much?" Oscar settles you with a deadpan look and snorts. "You two together is like an atomic bomb. You'll create chaos." You giggle, knowing it is very accurate. "Nope, I'm not buying it." Truth be told, Oscar was nervous about the two of you meeting. Lando and he had grown close, slightly, but he still had trouble wondering why he craved to hear Lando laugh or smile at him.

"Welp, don't care," You smack him lightly, and he giggles, squishing your cheeks between his hands, kissing you gently, and then giving you small pecks. Your hands on his waist squeeze as you relish in Oscar's warmth. "You're always so warm," You sigh, burying your head in his chest, Oscar smiles, feeling this tingling feeling in his stomach. "I love you,"

You open your eyes, smiling as you place a kiss right over his heart. Oscar rarely spoke those three words, but you felt like you could breathe when he did. "I love you, and you'll do amazing. And even if you don't, Australia loves and supports you." Oscar smiles, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kisses you. "Come on, let me introduce you to Lando." Squealing, you jump up and rush out the door, Oscar's hearty laugh following you.

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Lando stares at the screen, talking to Will and Jon, pointing at the screens and telling them what he needs fixed or set before the race. He notices movement in the corner of his eye but shrugs it off, directing his attention back to the screen. "Wow, you really are pretty," Lando jumps, turning to see a girl staring at him. "Um, thank you, strange girl," Lando steps back, Oscar rounds the corner, and Lando almost waves him off. Still, when Oscar's eyes land on you, he sees such a softness that he wishes Oscar was looking at him like that.

"Y/n," You turn and smile, returning to staring at Lando. "I like the beard. It suits you. Your baby face makes you look too much like a baby," Lando blinks as Oscar approaches you, touching your shoulder blades. Lando follows his hand as Oscar slides it down your back to your ass before placing it back on your waist. Oscar looks up and smiles at Lando. Lando looks away quickly. "Thanks, I like my beard too," You smile and move closer to Lando.

"Woah, I love your eyes," Lando's eyes widened, ripping away eye contact, and he felt panic and bile rising to his throat. He couldn't do that to you, not Oscar's girlfriend. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous," You mumble, stepping back into Oscar's space. "No!" Lando yells, causing some mechanics to look over. He laughs nervously, fidgeting with his race suit. "You didn't make me nervous; I just got anxious when people looked directly into my eyes." You nod, thinking everything over. "Okay, then I won't do that. I'm Y/n, Y/n L/N." You stick your hand out, smiling so brightly.

"Lando, Lando Norris." "I know," You giggle; Lando blushes and pulls his hand back, rocking on his heels. "She's been wanting to meet you, and finally, she can, which means she'll stop bugging me." Oscar jokes, bouncing his hip against yours. "You've been wanting to meet me?" Something in how he says it has you and Oscar staring at him. He said it in awe that he couldn't believe someone wanted to meet him. "Well, Oscar talks about you a lot, and I've been a fan since you joined F2. Why wouldn't I want to meet you?" Lando is shocked, closing his mouth.

"Oh, I don't know," You smile and loop your arms together. Lando smiles, enjoying the way you are so relaxed with him. "Oscar, show us around," Oscar stares at the two of you, blinking slowly as he takes in the fact he very much liked the way you two looked together. He was in trouble.

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"Stop, I can't," you giggle, trying your best not to choke on your drink. Lando is red in the face, laughing so hard that Oscar growls in embarrassment. "Carlos just doesn't like him, and so Carlos, like, growled, and Oscar turned around and made this little kitten sound." Lando gasps out, which sends you into a new round of laughter. "He caught me off guard!" Oscar tries his best to defend himself e, but it's useless.

"Guess you've been hanging around Mr. Orange too much," you wheeze out. Oscar reaches over and pinches your side, which makes you yelp and move closer to Lando. "Landooo," you whine and wrap your arms around Lando's neck. "Oscar is bullying me," Oscar rumbles lowly and shakes his head as the food is brought out.

Lando blushes, feeling how you hold him, before pulling back and sitting in your chair. "I'm really proud of you two. It was a good race, and I avoided the crash. Made me worry," You suck the straw into your mouth and stare at the food on your plate. Lando smiles softly, pushing his caesar salad around. "We did good, and I got points at the home race. Feels good." Oscar smiles, and you lean forward, stealing a kiss before biting.

"I'm worried," Lando admits, shoving a fork full into his mouth. "Worried about what?" Your voice is muffled as Oscar shakes his head at you, talking with a mouth full. "That the car won't be good, that the upgrades won't work, the fact we have to wait till Austria, and even then, we might not have all of them." Lando spills, Oscar looks down, understanding, but you just shrug your shoulders. "So?" The two boys look up at you, shocked.

"Who cares? Your fans love you, and they'll support you no matter what. You have faith in your team, right?" Lando nods his head, as does Oscar, which makes your smile grow. "Then you have nothing to worry about. McLaren is a good team. They wouldn't have put you in this position if they didn't think you could." Lando smiles, his eyes soft as you take a hug bite, which has Oscar snicker. "You're eating like a werewolf," Shrugging your shoulders, you swallow before smiling. "Well, you wore me out last night and this morning," you tease. Lando looks away, and Oscar kisses you deeply. "I did," He hums, and you nod, look over at Lando, and quickly sit back.

"Shit, sorry, Lando," You blush, but Oscar just smirks as Lando nods his head. "It's okay, I've been there," "With Carlos?" You didn't mean to ask, quickly covering your mouth. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked." Waving your hands, Lando chuckles and stops you. "Carlos is like my older brother; he's just very touchy," Lando gets this soft smile on his face, and Oscar can't help but feel something rear its ugly head in his chest.

"Carlos, he was protective of me for certain reasons. He got worse after Daniel," Lando whispers, and you remember reading about how Lando and Daniel didn't get along in the beginning. "Daniel and I didn't end on good terms, but we're slowly getting there." Oscar stops, trying to understand why Lando looks so hurt. "Hey, some friends go through issues, but it makes the friendship stronger between you two; Oscar and I broke up once," Oscar's head whips to the side, and he feels his wolf cry slightly at the painful memory.

He was gone a lot, more than needed, Oscar was refusing to explain, and you had enough. Oscar can still remember the hurt he felt when you said you two were done; he threw himself into racing. He worried Mark so much that he called you and asked you to talk to Oscar; he wasn't doing well. "Oscar and I worked it out, and we're more vital than ever. We need the pain to remind us that we're happy." Lando smiles, "Thank you," You giggle and kick his leg.

"No more mopping. We need Oscar to show us around Melbourne," Oscar groans, throwing his head back. Baby, I told you we have a flight in the morning. We're going back to the hotel." You pout, and Lando decides to join in. Oscar tries to look away but groans loudly. "Okay! Okay, fine, we'll go out, but just no clubs," he begs, looking at Lando for that. "I'm chill with that!" Oscar nods and waves the waiter over. "I'll pay," Lando insists, but Oscar waves him off. "Hey, I should pay, besides my treat," Lando rolls his eyes, but they both stop when the waiter leaves. They turn to look at you, but you just giggle and sip on your drink.

"You two were having a dick-measuring contest and decided to pay," Oscar snorts and leans in, stealing a kiss. "We both know who'd win that contest," Lando snorts and shakes his head, trying not to think about his teammates, cock. You giggle, a slight blush coating your cheeks, which has Lando thinking about how pretty you look with that blush on your cheeks and hating it wasn't him putting that blush on your cheeks.

"So, what do you say?" Lando blinks fast as Oscar looks at him, waiting for an answer. I'm sorry, what?" He can't help but fidget with the pinkie ring, something you and Oscar notice he plays with often. We asked if you wanted to come to an old hang-out spot," Lando blinks, thinking it over. He wants to say yes, but he also knows that if he went, he might do something stupid.

"No, um, I should probably go back to the hotel. Thank you for dinner," Lando stands, legs shaking, and awkwardly pats Oscar's shoulder. And thank you for paying, um yeah, see ya'll." Lando quickly rushes out, Oscar following his movements and then looking at you. "What the hell was that?" Shrugging your shoulders, you just think how cute and blushy Lando gets. "He's cute. Can we keep him?"

-------------------------------

"You're dumb," Lando glares at Charles, ignoring that he is naked with visible love bites that go farther than Lando wanted to know, and Max's hair is wild with lips bruised and swollen. "Shut up," He squeaks, as Charles leans back, rolling his eyes, Max squeezing his boyfriend's thigh, "Charlie, be nice," Max whispers, and Lando envies that.

Over the years, Lando watched Max turn from this hurt and angry person to one who was now soft and only showed his true love to those close to him. Really, he only showed this side to Lando and Charles, but Max was different from Charles; it was this different, and Lando hated it; he wanted someone to be like that to him. Charles loved Max, faults and all; he thought Max was the Moon to his Sun.

"What, I'm not going to be nice. He's being dumb," Charles pouts, looking out of the window as Max just chuckles softly, "Lando, you can't just suddenly catch feelings for someone you just met, let alone someone who is dating your teammate," Max is gentle with his words, but yet firm and Lando whines collapsing on the bed. "She's....she's so pretty, I couldn't help staring, and every time Oscar got to hold her, kiss her, make her smile and blush, I felt...jealous," He whispers, burying it in a pillow.

Charles sighs, running his fingers through the curls he loved playing with when they cuddled. Max smiled at the two of them, Charles mildly annoyed, but Lando was a dear friend, and he'd never turn him awake; Carlos liked to call them a...pack. He didn't know what it meant, but Max explained it was a werewolf term for family, and it made Charles smile.

"Do you want me to get Carlos?" Max whispers, and Lando cuddles closer to Charles, "No, he's with Rebecca. They're on a date," Charles coos. Let's move Lando closer before the boy stops and quickly backs up. "Clothes," He squeaks; Max chuckles as Charles glares and moves faster than light, coming back wearing underwear and an oversized t-shirt that hangs off his body. "Better?" As they move and curl together, Lando nods, Max moving around to ensure they have everything in reach.

"Charles, did you ever....hate being a vampire?" Charles grows quiet, thinking over the question. "Yes," He whispers, pain rippling through Max's face, but he hides it, looking at the room service menu. "Really? Why?" Lando always wished he was a vampire, even a werewolf, and thought it'd be easier. "Lando, everyone I loved, I've outlived; I wasn't born a vampire; I was turned, unwilling; it was.....horrible. Being turned, it's like acid as your blood, and then just silence. My family, I watched them all pass away, and for a while, I was alone, but I'm not, not anymore." Lando makes a face, seeing the love between his two friends, but he's glad Charles shouldn't be alone.

"Can I stay here? I don't want to be alone," Max puts the menu down, hugging Lando and nodding. "You can stay here however long you want,"

--------------------------

"Fuck!" Lando slammed the helmet into his driver's room, breathing heavily as the Miami heat got to him. His skin was dry, and he was uncomfortable; the dry humid had been pinching at him with each guess, the team trying their best to keep him hydrated. "Lando, here," Jon shoves a water bottle in his face, Lando slapping it away, eyes shimmering.

"Okay, okay, I'm going to make an ice bath, okay," Jon whispers, knowing Lando was tittering on the edge, his powers starting to form little knives. Lando gasps, nodding his head as Jon slips out. Lando growls, trying to remove his fireproofs, but can't the proofs becoming a second skin, and it was starting to make him antsy. "Lando, you okay in here?" Lando freezes, hearing Oscar's worried tone, "Lando? I'm coming in,"

Lando doesn't even fight; he's just drenched in sweat and looking on the brink of passing out. "Lando," Oscar whispers, shocked as he trips over his feet and rushes towards his teammate. Oscar, help, hot," Lando gasps, tugging sluggishly at his fireproof. Okay, okay, hang on," Oscar kneels, gently pushing Lando down, and his fingers burn Lando's skin, making him whine.

"Sorry, werewolf thing," Oscar jokes, but Lando is too exhausted to do anything. Oscar moves carefully and gently, pulling the fireproof off, hissing at the heat rolling off Lando's skin and how sickly grey he almost looks. "Lando, what do you need?" Jon bolts into the room and stares wide-eyed at Oscar but quickly removes the fireproof. Help him into the ice bath. Come on." Oscar quickly shoulders Lando's weight, and Lando whines at the heat Oscar is putting off but can't shrug him away as they drag him to the ice bath.

"Help him in," Jon groans. They lift Lando into the tub and watch as some color comes back to his skin; his eyes are no longer dull or lifeless. "Lando, Lando, you okay?" Oscar whispers, his chest tight with worry, almost feeling sick. "He'll be alright, just he didn't stay hydrated enough," Jon tries to excuse, but Oscar whips around, growling lowly. "This isn't simple dehydration. This was more. What the hell," "Oscar, it's none of your business," Oscar whips around to see Andrea and Zak staring at him.

"None of my," Oscar stops, feeling that anger claw at his throat before taking a deep breath and nodding his head, casting a look over his shoulder; he feels that protectiveness calm in his chest, seeing Lando looking more alert but still drowsy. "Just tell me when he's okay," Oscar whispers, moving past the team and to his driver's room, where you lay on the little couch, curled up, asleep.

Leaning against the door, Oscar takes deep breaths, trying to understand what just happened. "Osc, what's wrong?" His eyes move over you, and he smiles gently, but it's useless. You can tell something is wrong. "Did something happen to Lando?" Pushing his body off, the weight of everything comes crashing down, putting together the puzzle pieces.

"What do you know about Sirens?"

998 notes · View notes

angelicyouth · 4 months

Text

Proscenium

⇢ pairing(s): multiple x newkid!reader

⇢ genre: identity reveal ; the stick of truth + the fractured but whole AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝The beginning of the new school year reveals to your friends that you were never a boy like they've always believed you to be, but a girl—and that you have been one the entire time that you've known them.❞

⇢ warning: recreational drug use

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist]

⇢ note: this picks up years after the two video games that this AU takes place in (the flashbacks in this story are canon to the games) but can be read with no prior knowledge of them! :)

At thirteen years old, hormones slowly crept up into one’s life until puberty suddenly hit everyone all at once and all too fast. It was in the 8th grade that everyone came back from summer vacation different—what was once baby fat and ambiguous soft edges turned into more defined features and deeper voices. The appearance of girls altered in a way that could only be described as more developed, filling out in areas that they just didn’t used to.

Mr. Garrison decided that with this fresh transition into the beginning of their teenage years, that it would be a swell idea to teach his students about the notion of responsibility and of all the things that encompass it. This led to everyone sitting on the well-worn yet soft material of the fabric that adorns the chairs in the theater belonging to the town’s local middle school.

“Class, settle down now. I want all of you to know that before we begin, each and every one of you are talented. It may not be catered for the skills needed to succeed in theater, like singing or dancing. But don’t be ashamed of trying your best because I’ll find a job for every single one of you. Costume design, stagehand, the set—they’re just as important as the actors, you hear me?” The older man says in reassurance at his heightened stance on the wooden stage, looking at the sea of students that had varying degrees of uncertainty and excitement on their faces.

With these tentative first steps into their young adulthood, everyone was feeling lingering traces of insecurity and confusion. It was the start of the years where the children of South Park were trying to explore themselves as individuals—trying to find out who they are and where they truly belonged.

As such, it was also the time where they often felt too ‘cool’ to try hard in order to fit in with the rest of their peers. Everyone just wanted to belong, to not be labeled as an outcast. This was driven by certain people being naturally blessed by mother nature, their hormones making them conventionally attractive whereas some were struggling with artificial things for societal standards such as the condition of their skin or the metal bulk of their braces.

It was the awkward stage of life where people were more self conscious, more self aware of how they looked and how they spoke—who they hung out with and what their interests were. This was the beginning of when people started paying closer attention to their sexuality, to the genders of the members that each person found themselves attracted to.

It was also the beginning of when the boys started paying closer attention to Y/N L/N.

See, you had always hung out with the boys, often forgoing the likes of Wendy Testaburger or Bebe Stevens. Not because you didn’t like the group of girls in class (because they were still your dear friends, never forgetting to extend a personal invite to you for lunch on the weekends or to trips to the mall), but more so because the guys had claimed you first. They’re all you’ve ever known since the fourth grade—from when you were still the new kid to now, they’ve always been a constant presence both during school and after.

You were there when the boys decided to dedicate their free time to live action role-playing games, like superheroes or fantasy. During the nights that were spent finding scrap fabric to put together and painting props for when they donned their multicolored costumes and created super aliases. Or when the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was at war with The Elves for the wooden relic that once possessed the control of the whole entire universe.

The thing was, living in a mountain town like South Park meant that people typically adorned multiple, thick layers of material to help insulate themselves against the freezing temperatures. You, of course, weren’t an exception to the weather as you didn’t grow up here like the rest of your friends, which meant that you always kept either your hood up or wore a hat to keep yourself warm.

Granted, you didn’t find out until later on that your parents were actively trying to hide your identity from the government, but this inadvertently assisted in everyone misgendering you. It also didn’t help that you were silent in nature and therefore never bothered to correct anyone, but on the other hand, this earned you the fond nickname of ‘Douchebag’ and the boys never quite realizing that you were not a boy, but a girl.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You were late for the first day of the school year, rushing to rip off all of the paper tags attached to the new clothing your mother bought for you when she realized how quickly you outgrew your wardrobe during the summer. Unsteadily hopping around on one foot with a toothbrush wedged into your mouth, you finally got a leg through the soft material of the skirt that you were going to wear for the day.

Discreetly trying to open the heavy double doors leading to the school’s auditorium proves to be futile as everyone casts their bored eyes towards the disturbance at the back of the room. Keeping your head lowered in an attempt to stay hidden, your legs rush to bring your body to where your group of friends were sitting.

“Uh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Cartman arrogantly calls out when your body lands onto an unoccupied seat near him, your eyes rolling as you lay your backpack on the floor beside your feet.

“Aye! I’m fucking talking to you!” The larger teen yells in indignation when you continue to ignore him, his face heating up in anger when the guys begin to snicker behind their hands.

Heaving his body up, Cartman leans closer to you to roughly yank the hood off of your head to identify the current bane of his existence. This, however, leads him to be swept in confusion as the rest of the guys similarly halt their vocal amusement. “Who the fuck..?”

“Y/N—are you here? You’re up next to audition.” Garrison calls out, the boys quickly whipping their heads when they see you haul your form up to begin your ascent to the stage.

“What the fuck are you doing?! N/N’s not some lame pussy bitch!”

A tired sigh resounds from the older teacher’s mouth because it was way too early to be dealing with this shit. “Eric, Y/N has been a girl for the past four years that she’s been living in South Park. Nothing has changed except for your attention to details.”

“Wh—no he isn’t!” He sputters.

The guys stare at you in varying levels of disbelief and confusion, watching as you tuck visibly soft strands of hair behind your ear while Mr. Garrison passes you a script. Not only are you wearing a damn skirt (which the boys greedily eye as they showcase your long and smooth legs), but your jacket is unzipped for the first time that they’ve met you (in your haste to get ready, your scrambled brain forgot to properly zip it all the way up).

Due to this, they could see the way that the fabric of your top hugs your developing curves in all of the right places—cinching the delicate slopes of your waist and allowing them to see the growing but still notable bust that your outerwear has never revealed. It is then that their admittedly slow brains catches them up on the long lashes that gently kisses the red skin of your still cold cheeks everytime that you blink and how under the fluorescents of the stage lights, the pretty pink of your plump lips are further accentuated to slicked perfection.

“... Douchebag..?” Butters hesitatingly calls out, his voice meek in the sudden revelation of information on their long-time friend.

Busy reading the ink running along the script within your hands, the boys become shocked to muteness when your head lifts up in attention to the sound of your nickname. Your head tilts to the side in question when no one speaks, your disinterested eyes patiently waiting for the verbal reason that they called you.

“No fucking way.” They all seem to chorus because…

… When in the hell did the notoriously mute member of their group become so hot?

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“I call dibs!” Clyde yells out as soon as the boys step just one foot onto the cold linoleum that covers the hallway’s floors when the last class before the lunch period is dismissed.

“Wh—you can’t fucking do that!” Kenny indignantly cries out, the blonde angrily pushing his parka’s hood back so that he can properly argue.

“Yeah, I can! Wanna know why?” The brunette smugly continues, his arms crossed in self satisfaction for speaking up first as all the guys glare at him.

“Well, I’m super handsome and insanely funny! I play sports so my hot bod is just as amazing as my smile and I’m clearly so generous and kind and nice since I’m giving you assholes multiple reasons instead of one!” He childishly finishes off, a cheeky grin stretching wide on his face even as Kenny grabs him by the collars of his letterman jacket to roughly slam him against the metal surface of the nearest locker.

“What?!” The blonde screams into his face in frustration.

“That’s fucking lame, dude. If you think N/N is going to settle for some shallow, narcissistic asshole then there’s no point of claiming her first.” Stan angrily spits out, the skin in between his eyebrows furrowed and his fingers fidgeting with the spark wheel of his lighter as he lazily leans beside where Clyde and Kenny are trying to throttle each other.

“Says the self proclaimed rizzler who gets an upset twummy wummy when a cute girl so much as looks in your direction, barf breath.” Kenny mocks in a baby voice, the blonde halting in his attempted murder as his brunette victim begins to obnoxiously laugh at his quip.

“Oh gee fellas… Well if it’s first come first serve, then I guess I’ll be getting this one. See ya!” Butters quickly tries to walk away from the group before Craig grabs him by the neckline of his sweater, effectively choking the blonde until he stops.

“And how the hell does that make any sense?” The taller ravenette asks, an eyebrow condescendingly quirked up and his fist unwillingly to let go lest the blonde tries to pull a fast one again.

“Wuh—well because! I’m the first person that met her, don’tcha fellers remember? I was the one to bring her to Kupa Keep when she first moved in so I’m her oldest and dearest buddy!” Everyone stops walking as they display unamused looks on their faces at the explanation, causing the captured teen to nervously rub his knuckles together at their joined silence.

Kyle rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Yeah—by like, 5 minutes! And I don’t think you should be proud of that encounter because you were getting your ass handed to you when she met you.”

“And what’s wrong with that? N/N is strong and fearless and kind—why, she’s simply a bajillion times more noble for rescuing me when she didn’t even know me! That’s more than you fellas with your constant teasing, and you’ve all known me since we were babies!” The blonde pouts as he soothingly rubs the front of his now tender neck when Craig finally lets go.

Cartman deeply sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth the crease in between his eyebrows. “Just shut the fuck up, Butters. Y/N’s not here for you to suck her apparently non-existent dick, you fucking kiss ass.”

“You guys are acting like a bunch of stupid virgins.” Craig is expressionless as they reach the back of the school where the loading bay is, the chullo-wearing teen leaning against the wall as he leisurely watches Kenny plop down on the asphalt and pull a bong out of his backpack.

“Says you! Why do you even care?! I thought you liked it up the ass, you goddamn cocksucker!” Cartman is quick to yell, shoving both his hands in his jacket’s pockets to generate more warmth against the freezing Colorado air.

“Nyah! We like girls, t-too!” Tweek says, glancing at his ex-boyfriend as the ravenette flashes a vulgar middle finger that he annoyingly sticks into the larger teen's irritated face.

“Now that’s just fucking greedy.” The brunette scoffs, roughly pushing Craig’s arm away as the ravenette savagely snickers.

“That’s rich coming from the selfish fatass who can eat three times his weight in one sitting. Wouldn’t want N/N to suffocate on a date with you when you can’t see her over your huge fucking double chin and accidentally sit on her.” Kyle snarks as he rolls his eyes while Stan wheezes and mimics having a makeshift double chin by angling his head as low as it can against his collarbones to make the skin bulge.

Cartman loudly retorts as he roughly pushes away the ravenette’s laughing face, “It’s funny you say that when you have a fat bitch mom yourself, Kahl! Tell me: did she keep pushing even when you were already out of her gaping pussy because she couldn’t see you over her saggy fucking tits?!”

“All of you are greedy assholes! You guys can’t be good bros just this once and let me have this one?” Clyde pouts, the brunette sliding his back down against the wall until he’s seated on top of the gritty surface of his skateboard.

“No.” Everyone simultaneously deadpans.

“Blah blah blah—okay, now who wants to say grace before I light this baby up?” Kenny smirks up at the guys as he packs a bowl, Stan snorting a laugh as he pushes the blonde on the arm when he hands him his lighter.

“You know, it doesn’t really matter who calls dibs when it’s Y/N who gets to decide who she wants to be with. You can’t force her into anything just because we’ve found out that she’s been a girl this whole entire time. She’s not an object for us to claim.” Kyle resolutely states when it doesn’t seem like a decision will be (peacefully) made, causing the redhead to resort to logic and sense.

“He’s got a point.” Tolkien mutters, the only one not fighting over you as he texts his long-time girlfriend Nichole Daniels.

“Oh, shut the hell up with your unicorns and rainbows pussy talk, you stupid fucking Jew! You’re only saying that sappy shit because you know that she won’t pick you even if you did get dibs!” Cartman retorts before dramatically pinching his nose when Kenny rips the bong and obnoxiously exhales the smoke into the brunette’s face.

“Aw, sick! Your low quality shit stinks!”

“Mmm, I think that’s just your upper lip that you’re smelling, fat boy. You do know that if you’re not properly dusting the crumbs off of your greasy mouth after every meal, the food will eventually go bad and rot.” The blonde lazily grins as he hands Craig the bong.

“Look, all I’m saying is that it’d be best to just give her to me. Isn’t it less embarrassing for you guys if Y/N chooses me because I have dibs as opposed to her rejecting all of you, only to still like me because you’re all just ugly and boring?” Clyde pouts up at the guys, his body swaying from side to side as he rolls his skateboard in one place.

“Sorry Donovan—but I’m not letting a fine piece of ass like Y/N go without a fight, even if I have to fight a bro for her.” Kenny says as he leisurely watches Stan cough after taking a fat rip from the smoking device.

“Didn’t think you were the type to work for it, McWhoredick. With all the easy people you usually go for on the daily, I don’t think it’d be cool for you to just hit it and quit it like you usually do.” Craig straightens up from his previously laid back slouch against the wall, his clenched jaw slightly lifting up as he looks down at Kenny from his heightened stance.

The blonde takes that as a challenge as he stands up from the floor, his hands quick to shoot out and roughly shove at the ravenette. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that? Fuck you. I wouldn’t do that shit to Y/N.”

A hand grabs the material of Kenny’s parka at his elbow to stop the altercation from escalating even further, Tweek’s other hand tightly clutching onto the buttons of his top in anxiety. “I-I don’t know, dude… She’s our best friend, you know? That’d be really fucked up.”

Kenny rips his arm away from the other blonde and eyes every single person in the group with no trace of his usual carefree stance. “Seriously? Well I think it’s fucked up that you guys suddenly have feelings for her just because it’s been revealed that she’s actually a girl.”

And when no one says anything, the blonde scoffs. “I’ve always flirted with her since we were kids. Sure, I might have covered it up by passing it off as a lighthearted joke so that she couldn’t outright reject me, but it doesn’t make whatever I said to her less true.”

Kenny continues, “And I may be a ‘whore’ but I’m not a messy bitch who’d carelessly do shit like that with someone in our own damn friend group, especially to someone who means so much to me like Y/N. But let it be known: I was always transparent with how I felt and how cute I thought she was even when I thought she was a boy.”

And he was right—your earliest memories of being new in South Park were, naturally, of meeting new people. And when you talked to Karen McCormick for the first time during a day of playing your group’s fantasy game, she had told you right off the bat:

“Oh, hey! You’re the new kid! My sister, the princess, texted me about you. She thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s… That isn’t true.” Stan hesitantly speaks up once the silence seemed to stretch on.

The area of skin between his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks away from the group to avoid looking at anyone's reaction to his words. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and his teeth lightly nips away at his bottom lip in notable distress.

Kyle is visibly surprised at this revelation, “…Stan?”

The ravenette still doesn’t look over at his best friend or at anyone in the group, deeming the sight of the school’s janitor emptying out the trash a more interesting sight as he continues, “I uh—there was a time when I felt guilty. I thought I only liked girls but then I started seeing Y/N differently. It freaked me out because I was always into Wendy, y’know?”

Stan nervously mumbles, “I don’t know when it happened or how, but it was like I suddenly started noticing everything she did. My eyes kept automatically looking for her: to see her reaction when someone said or did something—if I could catch a glimpse of her rare smile or hear her quiet laughter. Even if there was nothing to see, I just liked to know that she was there and that she was okay.”

“No, I… I get it. Me too, actually.” Now it’s Stan’s turn to look shocked when he finally looks over at Kyle, the redhead sporting a madly growing blush as his hand shyly rubs the back of his neck at his confession.

“What?! Yeah, right! Quit dickriding by copying your little boyfriend just to make him jealous!” Cartman yells out in disbelief.

“Shut the fuck up! It was…,” Kyle takes a moment to carefully think of the right term to eloquently express his feelings. “Confusing, right?”

He feels somewhat relieved and comforted when Stan silently nods in agreement, the gesture reassuring him and validating his experience as he feels more encouraged to speak up. “I didn’t know if the lines between platonic and romantic feelings were beginning to blur. I couldn’t tell if I was just mixing them up together or something but after some time, I figured that it didn’t matter because it was Y/N. And so, I was just satisfied as long as I had her by my side, even if it was as a friend.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone thinks to themselves, the air somber with only the sounds of the janitor rolling away the trash can being heard as he walks back into the warmth of the school building. The double door loudly closes behind him, blocking out the noise of students inside talking as silence once again pervades the area.

“Well, all this talk about feelings and shit is amazing and not in the least bit boring but I’ve never been confused with how I felt since I already knew I swung both ways. I’m only doing something about it now because you fuckers are going to go for her and like hell am I just going to let that happen without trying.” Craig interrupts, his eyes lingering on Tweek to let him know that he wasn’t afraid to make his ex his rival in this endeavor either.

“Yeah, cause we all know she’s only going to settle for one of you poor bastards if her first choice isn’t pursuing her.” Clyde boasts, his chest proudly puffed out as he points one of his thumbs at his smiling visage to indicate that he was the aforementioned 'first choice'.

Craig snickers at his unbridled confidence as he shoves the brunette and leans over to snatch the glass bong out of Stan’s hands to take another hit. As he lights the bowl, Kenny pushes the taller teen’s face away to inhale the smoke instead.

Cartman scoffs as he snarks the group, “You guys are a bunch of fucking simps. Did your feelings make all of you lame-o pussies? Or did all of your periods somehow sync up today?”

“Some friends we are—we never even noticed such a big thing about someone we claim to fucking like.” Stan bitterly laughs, forcing the guys to remember the small comments they ignorantly made to you when you were still kids:

Cartman: You know, you have kind of pretty hair for a boy. You better not be a hippie or something.

Jimmy: I thought feminine-looking guys went out of style in the 80’s, but the new kids pulling it off.

Clyde: You kind of have big raisins for a boy, New Kid.

Scott: I’ve never seen a boy with such soft skin, what’s your secret?

Butters: Hey, Butthole. Anyone tell you for a boy you’re kinda pretty?

Kenny: You kind of remind me of my sister—I have this weird urge to protect you.

Stan: You know, for a boy you’re kind of feminine New Kid.

Kyle: There’s nothing wrong with a boy being feminine, be true to yourself.

“How are you guys so sure that she even likes boys? You were wrong about her gender and you could be wrong about this too.” Wendy slyly says to the pondering group as she passes by, Bebe giggling at her companion’s words as the boys snap out of their reminiscing.

Before they walk away too far, the female blonde decides to further antagonize the guys as she sticks out a tongue at them. “Didn’t ya know? Wendy knew that Y/N was a girl since the day that she moved in and you stupid boys didn’t!”

Cartman’s mouth drops open as everyone watches the two walk away in disbelief, “That fucking bitch.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Sorry for keeping you from lunch, Douchebag! Ah, my bad. Can I still call you that or..?” Scott Malkinson says as he blushes in embarrassment (and for seeing the entirety of your newly revealed face up close for the first time), his hand going up to rub at the brown tufts of hair at the back of his head.

“I mean, no problem if you’re not comfortable with it or have always disliked it! You probably wouldn’t want to go by Buttlord and stuff anymore too…” He nervously mumbles to himself.

You just offer a small nod as your eyes soften around the edges, your hands busy with stapling the packet of papers holding the directions for your two-person research essay for your science class before handing it to him. There didn’t seem to be a point in pulling up your hood anymore (reminiscent of the way Kenny often did) when the boys finally figured out you were a girl.

Zipping open his backpack, you patiently watch as Scott tucks away the report’s instructions for safekeeping in a folder before he offers you a bashful smile. He softly knocks a fist into your arm, “Hey. I really am sorry for misgendering you this whole time. Girl or boy, you’ll always be my trusty sidekick. Right, superpal?”

“Woah there, Malkinson! You’re not tryna pull a fast one on our girl when we aren’t looking, are ya?” Your attention shifts at the sound of Clyde’s voice, an arm being thrown over your shoulders as he protectively pushes you against his body. “You sly dog, you!”

From your peripherals, you see the other guys walking to catch up to where you are as Stan locks an arm around your science partner's neck to put him into a headlock and roughly tousle his hair. You disinterestedly look away when Kenny comes up to you with a wide smile, the blonde reaching an arm out to dap you up in greeting as per usual.

However, instead of stepping back after your half hug, he pulls on your interlocked hands to take you out of Clyde’s clutches and keeps you against his chest. Kenny’s larger hands slowly settles themselves against the curves of your waist as he presses his smile against the column of your neck.

“Missed me, beautiful?” He says, his lips evoking a cacophony of goosebumps as they ever so slightly skim against the soft expanse of your skin after every word.

“Knock it off, bastard. She doesn’t need your rank breath and your dirty hands on her.” Craig angrily mutters out as he pulls you away, only for a pair of arms to sneak around your waist from behind before someone’s chin plants itself onto one of your shoulders.

Kenny scoffs, obnoxiously trying to put said hands onto the taller ravenette’s face. “Your poor people stereotypes don’t do anything to hurt me, Craigory baby!”

Your face is as expressionless as always as you turn to identify your newest captor, a pout on Butters’ face. “That’s not fair Ken, and you know it!”

“Hey, you assholes said it yourselves: I’m always like this. So I’m not quite sure what you’re accusing me of, Butters. Unless you’re projecting your own ulterior motives onto lil’ old me?” Kenny has a lazy smile on his attractive face as he crosses his arms behind his head.

You don’t get to lean your body into Butters’ hold for too long before you feel someone’s hand sneak into the crook of your arm, trying to pull you out of your surrounding warmth. When you see that it’s Tweek fidgeting by your side, you place a reassuring hand on his own as you assume that his anxieties are getting out of control and needed comfort.

“Ngh! Y-you all need to leave her alone!” He yells, swiftly turning over his hand so that he can interlock your fingers together.

“Don’t be nice to him, Douchebag! He’s just faking it so that you’ll feel bad! The whole ‘liking it up the ass’ thing? It was all a FUCKING ACT!” Cartman indignantly shouts as he tries to separate your hands from each other, the blonde barista trying his hardest to not let go.

“Fuck you, ack! It just d-didn’t work out between us!” Tweek defends himself as he tries to bite the brunette’s unrelenting hands off.

“I can see why! Neither one of you have pussies. As I said already: you’re a bunch of fake homos who did it for money and attention!” Cartman yells before he loudly yelps from the blonde’s teeth finally breaking through his skin.

“Sick, dude. You might want to get tested for HIV… Or rabies.” Kyle grimaces as he watches Tweek hurriedly spit into the nearest trash can.

“And don’t be an ignorant piece of shit, fatass. You can still be a girl and not have a vagina.” The redhead continues while crossing his arms.

“Meh meh meh.” Cartman mocks in a high pitched voice to which Kyle just stares back unamused, “Shut the fuck up, god! You’re talking to someone who was fucking transginger before! Of course I fucking know that! And have some goddamn tact next time, asshole—I was going through a lot of shit so it was a dark time for me back then!”

"Wh—You brought up you being transgender yourself, dumbass!"

Tolkien tiredly sighs at everything going on before handing Tweek his hydro flask to gargle its contents, a frenzied mantra of oh god’s being repeated between mouthfuls of water. He soothingly pats the blonde on the back as the barista bends over, hysterically heaving in panic while Kenny watches and cackles in amusement.

“Yeah, Y/N. You have an unnatural allegiance to losers.” Stan side eyes the two as he finally lets go of Scott, the brunette yelling out hasty goodbyes in order to escape the apparent arguing and to fix his messed up hair.

“Which is exactly why she keeps you around, Stanley.” Craig is quick to snark while he roughly pulls Cartman away from trying to get even with Tweek.

“Not true!” He yells.

Craig stares blankly at the protesting ravenette, “Uh-huh… Staniel, tell me: what medications are you on again?”

“For my depression? Uhh, Lexapro. I think. Why?”

“I think they need to switch you to the stronger shit or rediagnose you because right now, you’re being fucking delusional. We smoked the same shit just now so I know it’s not whatever strain Kenny has that’s fucking you up.” Craig dismisses, using his height to his advantage as he condescendingly pats Stan hard on the back of his neck and causes him to stumble.

“Oh fuck you—“

Kenny impatiently interrupts, the blonde pulling you away. “As much as I love me some fucking, let’s just go to lunch already! You guys can bitch all you want in the cafeteria—I’m hungry!”

“You’re always hungry though, poor ass.” Cartman mumbles as everyone starts to move.

“Fuck you, I’m stoned.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The lunch room is as noisy as ever from where you stand, your disinterested eyes looking around while your arms get recklessly tugged back and forth. You don’t pay any mind to the curious stares of any passerby and those sitting near your standing position as you’ve already grown used to the unwarranted attention your friends always seem to attract from their antics.

“N/N is sitting with me!” Clyde yells out to which the brunette emphasizes with a pull on the arm of yours that he's tightly hugging to his chest.

“She sat next to you yesterday when we went out and got pizza for lunch, you greedy asshole!” Kenny argues back as he resolutely plants his feet against the cafeteria floor, not budging from where your hands are intertwined.

“Not fair—I haven’t sat next to my buddy all week when we've eaten.” Butters pouts from where he stands in front of you as his hands grab hold of your jacket and his fingers mindlessly fiddles with the zipper of it.

With one last tug, Kenny guides you over to the group's designated table before the other two can react and offers a solution. “Here: my princess can just sit on my lap so that the both of you crybabies can still sit next to her.”

The blonde demonstrates by settling you over his thighs before he tightly locks his arms around your waist, sending a cheeky smile over your shoulder at the flabbergasted blonde and brunette still standing up. “There! Problem solved. Fuck, I’m a genius.”

Kyle rolls his eyes as he takes your tray of food in his unoccupied hand and places it on the table between his own and Stan’s, causing Kenny to pout when you stand up to sit where your lunch is. Once sat, you watch as the ushanka-wearing teen opens up the plastic holding your utensils before he hands you your spork.

“Y/N.” You blankly turn your head away from your food to face Clyde.

The brunette leans over the table to wipe a smidge of sauce that was left on your face with his thumb, his finger lingering at the edge of your lips. “You got something on your pretty face.”

Your eyes dart towards his finger when he pulls away to show you the hint of food he wiped off before you lean forward to lick it off of his finger for him. Clyde’s grin stretches impossibly wide across his face at your welcomed action, both of his elbows planting themselves on top of the table that he was still laying his stomach over as he cups his cheeks with his hands and brings his legs up to delightedly kick them back and forth like a lovesick schoolgirl.

“Fucking knock it off, Clyde!” The brunette yelps out of his daze when Craig grabs one of his swinging feet to roughly yank him off of the table.

“Dude.” Stan forlornly stares at his knocked over can of soda, the carbonated liquid thankfully spilling onto the floor and not on anyone’s clothes.

“You’re a fucking try-hard, you know that?!” Cartman yells as he fumbles to catch his opened pack of snacky cakes before they fall onto the dirty cafeteria floor from the other brunette’s actions.

Clyde is unable to verbally defend himself against the larger teen as he tries to hold his hand as close to his chest as possible while fending off Kenny with the other. While he gently cradles his appendage to his body, the blonde tries to get the prized finger to himself for a chance at an indirect kiss.

“Talk about desperate. You beg for sex like you beg for food, McCormick.” Craig mumbles as everyone watches the fighting pair in a mixture of disgust and disappointment.

“Wuh-what’s going on, fellas?” Jimmy asks as he takes a seat besides a stressed out Tolkien, the teen irritatedly rubbing his temples with his eyes closed to soothe the quickly growing headache he was developing.

“Jimmy! Finally, someone sane. I’m going crazy—they keep fighting over Y/N.”

“Competition? F-f-for what? They say girls love someone funny and I’ve already made Y/N laugh the most in the past!” The brunette proudly boasts before Tolkien bemoans the loss of who he thought was his only ally.

It's only the first day of school, the wealthy teen thinks to himself in dread as he begins to wonder if he should start sitting with Timmy instead.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Taking a sip of your chilled juice makes you slightly shiver, causing Stan to notice from his close proximity to you. Dusting off his hands together to take away any remnants of crumbs leftover from his brownie, the ravenette reaches over to zip your jacket up after he deems his hands clean enough to not leave a stain.

From the next seat over, Craig notices the interaction and what caused it so he takes it upon himself to place his beloved chullo on the top of your head. He reaches across from the front of Stan’s chest and in result, roughly pushes him away (he almost falls ass first out of the bench he's sitting on) as he takes care to ensure that both of your ears are properly covered.

The taller teen simply smirks when the ravenette glares at him for one-upping him—Craig’s hat providing additional warmth and even displaying a mark of possession that simply zipping up your outerwear couldn’t provide for other students to see. Their silent but heated stare-off gets interrupted when someone uses the earflaps from Craig’s chullo to forcibly turn your head to another direction.

“Douchebag, come over to mine after school. My mom got me that new video game we were talking about last week and you’d be a stupid loser to not be one of the first people in town to play it.” Cartman demands after he lets go of the soft material to resume devouring his lunch.

“No can do, fatfuck. Y/N already promised to go to my house so that we can do homework together.” Kyle interrupts with a self-satisfied grin on his face that only serves to make the brunette loudly slam his hands on the surface of the table in anger.

“Ooo, group study session at Kyle’s house after school?” Butters perks up at his own suggestion, an innocent grin adorning his face as he looks at everyone at the table for confirmation.

“Fuck you, I didn’t invite any of you bastards over except for her.”

“Ditch them, babe—Karen misses you! Why don’t you come over to my house instead so you can visit her?” Kenny jumps at the opportunity to speak up first after Kyle’s dismissal over Butters' self-invitation.

The boys see you visibly perk up as you straighten your back at the mention of the blonde’s younger sister, making Craig furrow his eyebrows together. “Fuck off. If there’s anyone that Y/N wants to see the most, it’s Stripe.”

Stan immediately scoffs as he pushes around his vegetables with his spork, the ravenette mumbling under his breath as his chin rests on his open palm. “I mean, at least he’s not using his own sibling as a cheap way to get her to visit. Not like I can do the same when I only have a bitch older sister at home.”

“Oh! How about a pet play date then! I can bring Rex!” Clyde excitedly contributes to Craig’s words, only for the ravenette to glare at him when they make eye contact.

"Wait, then I can bring Sparky—"

Kyle interrupts Stan before the conversation can escalate even further, “No! I already told my ma that Y/N is coming over so she’s making extra dinner.”

“Then there’s enough food for all of us to come over tonight.” Cartman says around a mouthful of chicken with an air of finality.

“That’d add another 30 servings on just you alone. So no, fatass, there isn’t enough food for you in my house or even in the whole entire goddamn grocery store that can satisfy the endless void that’s your fucking stomach.” Kyle argues back as his face contorts in disgust at the brunette’s lack of decorum at the lunch table, his hands quickly shooting out to shield both his and your lunch from any spit or stray bits of food.

“Aye!”

You patiently wait for him to take his hand away from where it’s hovering protectively over your tray but as you do, you get distracted from their bickering when Butters holds out a spoonful of his fruit cup. “Here, little buddy! I know how much you like this combination.”

Your eyes soften around the edges in thanks as you lean forward to eat it directly out of his spork, the blonde’s hand kindly waiting for you to chew before he pulls the utensil away and continues to eat his snack.

“Ack!” Tweek hurriedly fumbles to pour out a cup of still-warm coffee from his metal tumbler, his eyebrows furrowing in intense concentration as he tries to reign in his shaking hands to bring the portable cup up to your face for a sip without spilling.

Clyde watches in disbelief as you bring your body as close as you can from your seat at the table to drink the blonde’s offering, causing him to hurry with sticking a cheesy poof halfway into his mouth. “Here, N/N! Have some of this!”

Kyle’s eyes widen when he sees you starting to lean your face forward in the brunette’s direction, his hands shooting out to stop you from moving any further to give the brunette an opportunity for a kiss. “Y/N! No, goddammit!”

You blankly stare at the teen for interrupting before something moves in your peripherals, your eyes darting to the side to see Craig patiently holding out a chip towards you. As you turn your body towards his, he pulls it away from your face at the very last second.

“Sit next to me in class and I’ll give you a piece.” He smirks when you nod before taking a bite of the proffered snack out of his hand.

Kenny overhears and bitterly tsk’s to himself before placing a hand across the table with his palm facing up, his fingers wiggling as he also attempts to gain your favor through food. Your head cocks to the side at the action before you obediently place your hand on top of his, the blonde interlocking your fingers together as he brightly smiles at his success.

“Good girl.” He gently coos at you as he feeds you a piece of his cookie, his cerulean orbs watching you in endearment when you chew the dessert before he gives your linked appendages a soft squeeze.

Once eaten, the blonde uses his now unoccupied hand to pet the top of your head to which Stan sneers at. “Quit it, dude. She’s not one of your pet rats for you to coddle.”

“And what about me?! You fuckers never share any food whenever I ask!” Cartman slams both of his hands down onto the surface of the table (again), causing all of its seated occupants to roll their eyes as they settle their rattling cans of soda and water bottles from tipping over.

“You’re spouting bullshit—I’ve offered you food before.” Craig disinterestedly says as he takes the rest of Kenny’s cookie to prevent him from feeding you again and shoves it all in his mouth in one go.

“Only when you’ve dropped it on purpose and told me to eat it from the fucking floor if I wanted it so badly, you bastard!”

The ravenette merely shrugs, not seeing a fault in his actions as he pushes away the raging blonde trying to punch him. “Same thing. Bitches can’t be choosers or however that saying goes.”

At his words, the edges of your lips unconsciously quirk up into a small smile. It’s like Hell freezes over as everyone stops whatever they’re doing to get a glimpse of a sight so rare to see from your usually blank face.

“Quick! Take a picture! Take a fucking picture!” Clyde yelps at Kenny's demand as his hands fumble in their haste to rip his cellphone out of his jacket’s pocket.

You wonder to yourself why you’ve maintained the façade of being a boy when the dangers of the government trying to find you stopped being a threat so long ago. Maybe, you’ve unconsciously been trying to continue the lie because the person everyone thought you were when you were the "male Y/N" was the one that your friends already found themselves loving and enjoyed being around.

And who would take such a risky chance at changing such a beautiful thing like the precious friendship that this dysfunctional group of boys brought you?

But with the way that everyone is acting after the initial nerve-racking reveal of your true identity from this morning, you find it silly that you ever thought for a second that you might have disappointed your friends with who you really were. Because right now, as you see everyone around the table watching you with eyes that look at you as if you held the whole entire universe in just the palm of your small hands, you let yourself know that there was nothing to ever worry about.

At this thought, your smile slowly widens until a full set of pearly white teeth makes their appearance and a beautiful hue of pink paints the apples of your cheeks. This seemingly knocks any incoming words from leaving the boy's mouths as they watch in stunned silence.

You giggle over the din of chattering students in the cafeteria, causing the guys to lean even closer than before to hear the melodic sound of your rare laughter. “It’s beggars can’t be choosers, dumbfuck.”

a/n: ((i truly tried writing jimmy as a love interest because duh, it's not team craig without him!! but for the life of me, i cannot write him in fics & i really don't know why **sobs**))

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jaebeomsbitch · 1 year

Text

Best Friend's Kisses (E.M.)

Summary: After seventeen long years of friendship Eddie decides to fulfill a ten year old promise. Something whispered in the middle of the night. He gives you the best gift of all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader, really only mentioned like two or three times

Mid-twenties Eddie and reader. Mechanic! Eddie

Warning: Slight smut at the end, talks of insecurity, making out, flirting, swearing, and melancholy reader. MINORS DNI!

AN: This is only my third fic on here. I'm still trying to understand the formatting.

Eddie Munson had been your friend since you met him on the playground in third grade. He had defended you against some asshole kid who tried to take away your toy. Pushed him to the ground and yelled at him, you’d been inseparable since then. You saw each other through the awkward phases of becoming teenagers, watched him struggle through high school, and then eventually graduate.

Now you were both in your mid twenties, still having movie nights at the Munson’s every Friday after your shift at the record shop. You had a chance to leave, to go to college in New York but you turned it down. Not that you told Eddie, you didn’t want him to feel guilty. Truthfully you did stay for him, afraid that he might break without you but, did he really need you?

Eddie was an incredible sweetheart, making friends left and right with whoever would listen to him. It seemed like anyone that had a chance to really talk to him could see beyond the rumor around him. He was surrounded by people who loved him. Sometimes you regret staying, maybe you could’ve become something. Maybe you could’ve gotten a good degree, move your parents out of this shitty town but you were afraid.

The truth being you use Eddie as a crutch, you always had. Hiding behind him, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he yelled at another person for you, cleaning him up after he fought with a guy for groping you, Eddie was your protector in a sense. So you stay, stay in the shitty down you despise, wallow in self pity for being a fucking coward like you always are, and spending your days drinking or getting high with Eddie and his friends.

Today was a special day, Eddie had gotten a job at a mechanic shop. He always said that when he got his first paycheck he’d buy you something really special. He’d jump around from job to job until he found Earl. Earl was the only person who truly gave Eddie a chance.

“Honey, I’m home,” He jokes, walking into the trailer. Already expecting you to be lying on his bed when he comes home like you always are. He walks in shoulders hunched, face covered in grease stains, and hair knotted. “Gonna take a shower, then’ll be back. Got something exciting for you sweetheart,” He smiles, grabbing the pile of clothes you left on the foot of his bed ready for him. “Toodaloo,” he wags his fingers behind him as he exits the room.

Oh god what did he get you? Eddie had a reputation for going overboard, always saying he had to spoil his ‘princess’ because you were his longest friend. Always rambling about how you deserved the world for sticking by his side. Steve and Robin like to tease him, poking fun at your friendship. Always whispering, “you’ve never thought ‘bout it?” with their questioning gazes. It didn’t matter what either of you said, they never believed you. They could see the way the tips of your ears turned red or the way Eddie silently threatened Steve.

“I feel so much better,” He sighs, throwing himself next to you. He cuddles into the pillow, throwing the sheets over himself. “You forgetting something?” You laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry. M’tired,” He mumbles, eyes open wide. “Just go to sleep, Eds. You can give me whatever it is tomorrow,” You whisper. Trying to lull him back to sleep as you massage his scalp. “No, been waiting forever,” He murmurs, eyes blinking slowly. He must’ve been really tired for him to forget dinner. Eddie was never one to skip meals, always saying they were his favorite part of his day. You watch him sleep, he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. It isn’t until you hear the phone ring that you move your hand from his curls.

“Hello?” You whisper trying not to wake him up. “Oh hey! I was expecting Eddie,” Steve says on the line. “He got home and fell asleep immediately, I was just about to make dinner. What’s up?” You ask.

“You sound so domestic, like a housewife,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes leaning against the wall.

“H-has he given you the present yet?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No, he just said he had something for me then fell asleep two seconds later. I don’t know what he did today but he skipped lunch. You know how unusual that is for him,” you say slightly concerned.

“It’s just… he loves you a lot you know?” Steve says, his voice sounding a little weird.

“Yeah and I love him too,” You reply quickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just… keep that in mind, I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says.

“What wh-” He hangs up. What the fuck was that about? Of course you’d see Steve and the gang tomorrow, it was your weekly get together with the adults of the group but this felt weird. It almost felt like something monumental was supposed to happen today.

You try to shake away the feeling, looking through the fridge to see what they have. Cheese and tortillas, the ones you brought from home because you ‘accidentally’ bought two packs. You make quesadillas like you’ve made all your childhood, they were quick to make and easy for Eddie to eat while he’s half asleep. He had this miraculous way of waking up, eating, and forgetting that he even ate when he woke up.

“Eds… Teddie,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder until he groans. He gained the nickname after a long night of calling each other annoying nicknames, you saw your childhood teddy bear and instantly thought of Eddie. Just like it, he brought you comfort and he was also the person to give it to you. Claimed he won it in a claw machine for twenty five cents but you knew he had saved his money for weeks to buy it for you. You'd seen it at the store when your mom dragged you shopping for your sister's new clothes.

“I know, I know, baby. Just eat and you can go back to sleep okay,” You whisper, sitting on the ledge of the bed next to him. He slowly blinks, turning toward you as he scratches his neck languidly.

“Come on, eat,” You show him the plate but he still blinks at you not understanding. So you feed him like a sick child, watching as he takes little bites and tilting his head forward when he needs a drink. “Go back to sleep,” You whisper, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes close again.

Steve was right, it all felt entirely domestic. You’d never treat him, Robin, or any of your other friends like this but Eddie, he was special. Your heart clenches at the idea, always longing for Eddie in a way you know is not possible. Always afraid you’d ruin your seventeen years of friendship, afraid you’d lose the one person who made you feel comfortable. You’d always cuddled with him, he was overly touchy with you to the point that everyone thought you were together. You were always off limits to the other guys in Hawkins, only ever catching the eye of passersby. You fall asleep, thinking about all the should haves and could haves.

The sun filters through the small crack in the curtains hitting you straight in the face. You look around the room, remembering you fell asleep next to Eddie. His arm is around your waist, head buried in your neck, hair tickling your nose. You try to stretch as much as you can while being basically pinned down by Eddie.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles, pulling you closer.

“You slept for sixteen hours already,” you snort.

“Not enough,” He nuzzles into your neck.

“You gotta stop that or I’m gonna piss myself,” You say, trying to pry his arm off of you.

“Do it, you wouldn’t dare,” He challenges.

“No I wouldn’t but seriously, I gotta go!” you say more urgently.

“Fine, but you jump right back in bed the minute you finish,” He bargains.

“It’s almost one o’clock, I am not staying in bed,” You protest, still pulling at his arm.

“Either way you still owe me a present,” You say.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” He says, finally letting you go. You run to the bathroom to take care of yourself, peeing and brushing your teeth. You’d had a toothbrush right next to Eddie’s since your first sleepover, he always took charge of changing it out every couple of months.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, rummaging through his closet.

“Eat, present, meet Robin and Nance and 'em,” He says, standing up from the bed to join you. He picks up a pair of black jeans, his favorite because “they fit him the best and they make his ass look good,” according to Eddie. It was warm out, you could already tell by the heat in the trailer so he picks out a cutoff tee that shows off the sides of his ribs if he moves a certain way. He didn’t know this was your favorite shirt of his. He always looked so fucking hot with it on, his tattoos peaking through the side, his midriff exposed at the corner of your eye. Well if he was going to play that game you needed a better outfit, no band tee for you.

You search through your overnight bag for the black lacy cami top that usually leaves him speechless and a pair of shorts. He looks at the outfit in your hand and gulps.

“Great, I’m starving,” You wink at him as you walk by. What the fuck were you doing? What has gotten into you? He might’ve just been thirsty or something. There was no guarantee he even noticed what you grabbed or even cared. When you come out dressed you hear Wayne’s voice to the right of you talking to Eddie about his job.

“Good…afternoon!” You greet them.

“Finally decided to wake up I see,” Wayne says, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t judging you, he liked to tease but he knew how hard Eddie and you worked. He always treated you like a dad, more than your own father. He was protective and caring in his own way.

“Blame Teddie,” You nudge Eds in the ribs.

“You know I need my beauty rest,” He says, flicking his hair.

“Maybe you need to sleep longer,” Wayne’s eyes light up, teasing Eddie.

“Some sleep would do you good,” Eddie says, tone more serious. Wayne had been picking up more shifts lately, you had hardly seen him the last three weeks.

“I’m already as pretty as I’ll get,” Wayne grumbles, not liking Eddie’s concern.

“Weren’t y’all ‘bout to get food, c’mon get,” Wayne pushes you both out, slamming the door behind you two.

“He really is overworking himself,” You sigh as you climb into Eddie’s van.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been taking longer hours at the shop. Just want to take some burden off the old man,” He says, eyes focused on the road. You both sit in silence on the drive to Benny’s, thinking about how stuck you felt.

You wanted to help Wayne in any way you could but you still weren’t making enough money. You rented out a room from your parents because according to them the second you turn eighteen they weren’t supposed to help you anymore. Even if you wanted to leave you couldn’t afford the lease. You remember all those nights with Eddie, dreaming of the day you finally became adults so you could become independent.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, snapping his finger in front of your face.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” You jump, hand clutching your chest.

“What’s got you so spaced out?” Eddie asks, during the short walk into the diner and into your “designated” booth.

“Nothin’” you say, playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“C’mon tell me what’s on your mind,” He pushes.

“I just wish I could do something to help Wayne out,” You sigh, not looking up at him.

“Me too,” He says, taking the pepper from your hand and playing with it. You didn’t expect the heavy atmosphere but thankfully it's broken when Doris comes over with your drinks. You always ordered the same thing, every week.

“Here’s your cola’s, just put in your order,” She smiles.

“Thank you!” you beam at the sugary beverage.

“There’s something magical in these sodas I swear,” You moan, as you gulp it down.

Eddie’s looking at you through his eyelashes, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

“Yeah tastes pretty good,” He observes, voice deeper than normal and pupil’s slightly blown out. You make conversation over your pancake breakfasts, talking about shitty customers and bonding over telling them to fuck off. The tension from earlier is gone as Eddie promises he can scarf down his food in less than ten minutes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said it wasn’t worth the upset stomach I know you’re gonna have,” You say, walking toward his van.

“Well it was worth it,” He gives you a toothy smile.

“Now for the big event,” He says, as you both get in the van.

“Big event?” You question.

“Got you a surprise, something I promised you a long time ago,” He says, staring into your eyes. There’s something there you don’t recognize, his gaze looking different. You wrack your brain trying to decipher his riddle. What did he promise you? He had made so many promises over the years, pinkies intertwining each other as Gareth made fun of your childish ways.

“Okay…” You look at him suspiciously.

“But, I’m gonna need to blindfold you,” He says, eyes full of mischief.

“Ooh kinky,” you wag your eyebrows at him. His eyes slightly widen before he snaps out of it and grabs a scrap of fabric from his door.

“Turn around for me sweetheart,” He mumbles. You can’t help but slightly shake as he places the opaque fabric over your eyes, his hand brushing the back of your head as he knots it in place. The entire act felt all too intimate, your heavy breaths in the silent van weren’t helping either.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, presumably waving a hand in your face as you turn to sit straight.

“Nothing, scouts honor,” You say, raising two fingers.

“You weren’t even in the scouts,” He laughs, turning the key in the ignition. You don’t know what direction you’re heading in.

“Oh my god are you gonna murder me? Been playing the long con? Get me comfortable so I go without protest,” You tease.

“Oh yeah, gonna chop you up in the forest in the name of satan,” He says dramatically.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” You laugh, as he pulls to a stop.

“We’re here, just give me a second” He says, opening the door and rounding the car to open yours less than a second later.

“Wrap your arms around my neck princess,” He says, carrying you out of the van and placing you on your feet.

“Woah,” You grab onto his arm as the dizziness sets in.

“You alright?” He asks, concerned laced in his voice.

“Yeah just give me a second. M’dizzy” You say, gripping harder onto his bicep.

“Take your time,” He says.

“I’m ready,” You say after a minute. “Okay, just follow my voice. It’s a trust exercise,” you can hear the smile in his voice as he leads you. “There’s like three steps, just take ‘em slow. Here’s the first one,” He says, stopping so you can get your footing. He leads you up the last two, “Before you take your blindfold off… just, I don’t know. J-just I don’t even know how to explain it,” He says, voice full of nervousness.

“Eds, I feel like I've been blindfolded for an hour. If this is another prank I will fucking kill you,” You threaten.

“Not a joke, promise,” He says, “Ready?”

“Been ready,” You answer. He takes your hand putting something cold in it and leaning over your shoulder to see the knot. You blink at the sudden light, trying to grab your bearings.

“W-what?” You asked confused. He’d placed a key in your hand, you were standing in front of a house.

“We always promised we’d move out together, it was time for me to bank it in,” He smiles.

“Wait, what?” You still couldn’t believe it. It had to be some sort of joke, he probably found this key on the floor.

“C’mon open the door,” He nods his head in the direction of the lock.

“You’re serious?” You ask, eyes wide in shock.

“As a heart attack. C’mon! I’ve been waiting for months to show you it,” He says, pressing you to open the lock. Your hands shake as you approach the door, the key surprisingly sliding in and turning. Oh no he wasn’t lying, this wasn’t an epic prank. You open the door to an empty living room, his hand guiding you inside.

“I haven’t picked out the furniture yet, thought you’d want to do it together,” He stammers, as you silently scan over the room. It was nice, the entrance opened to the living room, to the left was an open floor plan kitchen, and to the right a bedroom.

“T-together?” You stutter. You were speechless.

“I know how much you hate living at your folks home and you know we made that promise that we’d move out together when we had the money,” He says scratching the back of his neck. He was nervous at your lack of response, did you hate the house? Maybe he should have consulted you first.

“So you and me, living together?” You question, taking in every single detail.

“Yes, just you and me. Maybe Wayne but I doubt he’ll leave the trailer. He’ll finally have a bedroom again though,” He trails off.

“Holy shit, this is for real?” You ask again, walking around the living room toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say yes. Did I tie that blindfold too tight? Not enough oxygen in your brain” he chuckles at his joke. You jump into his arms, legs straddling his waist. You hold onto him like a monkey as he grabs your thighs.

“This is the best present ever! Holy shit, Eddie,” You say hugging him close.

“Least I can do for your long years of serving me loyally,” He laughs, walking deeper into the house. You slide down his body as he pulls you through, giving you the grand tour. The house had three bedrooms total, apparently he got an insane deal on the property. Someone from the shop got a huge opportunity in Indianapolis and was trying to get rid of it. They passed down the title to Eddie instead of going through a broker.

“Now this, I think may be your favorite part,” He says, pulling you toward the back door. Your hands entwined, which was not unusual for you both. He opens the door to a beautiful garden, the previous owners must’ve loved this place. It was full of flowers and fruit trees.

“There’s a perfect shady spot to read your books, we could put a table out there and have breakfast together,” He says.

“Holy shit Eddie, it’s perfect,” You say, pulling him in for another hug. He’s bent at an awkward angle to meet your height. Without thinking you peck him on the lips before letting him go and walking down the steps to the garden. You look back at him still frozen in that weird position.

“What’s wrong?” You ask oblivious to what you had just done.

“D-did you just kiss me?” He asks, running down the stairs to meet you halfway down the yard.

“T-that was-” You stutter, realizing what happened. He towers over you, hand tilting your face upward as he kisses you again.

“This okay?” he mumbles into your lips. You move your hands to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Mhm,” You agree, trying to pull him closer. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip with a groan, his kisses becoming more desperate. You open your mouth inviting him in, his tongue mapping out your mouth as you moan. “F-fuck,” You breathe out as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. You’d never been touched like this by Eddie, his hands running all over you anguished for a piece of skin to grab onto. He leans his forehead against yours, as you both catch your breath, his hands under your shirt on your hips.

“W-what was that,” You stammer.

“Been wanting to do that since middle school,” His breath ghosts over your face as he leans back to look at you, skin flushed and chest rising rapidly.

“Since fourth grade,” You laugh, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down to your level.

“That long?” He says incredulously.

“You were my first crush,” You admit, face flushing at the confession.

“You were mine!” He says, voice raising in astonishment.

“So we could’ve been doing that for fuckin’ years?” He says more to himself than you.

“Guess so,” You shrug your shoulders.

“No wonder everyone thought we were dating. You made the goo goo eyes at me I made the goo goo eyes at you,” He laughs.

“That was your fault! You always had an arm around my shoulder or were holding my hand. Anyone would’ve thought we were together!” You reply.

“As if you didn’t love it. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you look at me when I wear this shirt,” He teases.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?” You ask, smacking his chest.

“Course gotta make you all nervous,” He pecks you on the lips.

“Well don’t think I don’t notice all the times you stare at my boobs especially when I wear this,” You motion to your outfit.

“I fucking knew it! You’re a temptress y’know that?” He growls, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anyway, I was always touching you because I didn’t want anyone hanging around my girl,” He mumbles at his admission, neck and cheeks flushed.

“Your girl?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“Always have been, always will be,” He reveals.

“You don’t know how many girls I had to fight off,” You chuckle.

“No way! I had to fight off half the town. You don’t even know how many fist fights I got into because of you,” he says.

“Girls are a lot more vicious. You know there was always a rumor going around about you,” You divulge.

“Oh yeah?” He motions for you to go on. “Always heard you had a big dick,” You reveal before hiding in his chest. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases.

“Yes I would,” You say, gaining confidence. You look up at him, the way his chocolate brown eyes are swallowed by his pupils. He pulls you in for another kiss, this one faster and more aggressive, it almost felt primal.

“Finally!” Robin cheers from the door, Eddie groans at the sound. He forgot he called them while you were changing. Steve, Robin, and Nancy scramble down the stairs giving you both congratulations. Gareth, Jeff, and, Grant arriving a few minutes later. Eddie’s annoyance dies down when he sees your face loving the way you laugh around your friends. You spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and eating take out with them. Nancy had brought a board game, this felt like home. Having them all here, Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he kisses your temple. You were finally home.

Eddie was finally yours and you were finally his. All your internal struggles and insecurities paid off. You had won the big prize at the fair! You spend the night on a blow up mattress with Eddie, eventually popping it because he has no control. After years of waiting you both felt more than desperate, clawing at each other's clothes.

“Shit- shit shit! M’close,” You moan.

“Fuck me too!” his eyes roll to the back of his head, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace.

“Say you’re mine, wanna hear it,” He begs.

“M’yours, always yours,” You claw at his back. “Yes yes yes yes,” He rambles until you’re both seeing stars. He pulls out of you, pulling you to his sweaty chest.

“This has to be a dream,” He exhales, staring at the ceiling. You kiss his chest in response. It was all too real. Your dreams had become reality. You finally had Eddie in your arms. You were his and he was yours just like you both promised when you were children.

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cameronspecial · 4 months

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You Are Our Perfect Boy, Baby

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Difficulties With Getting Pregnant

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Trying to give Asher a younger sibling is proving harder than they thought it would and Y/N can't hold on to hope anymore.

Masterlist

Rafe never thought he would want children, yet when Y/N came along, he knew that he couldn’t imagine a life without them. They would be the perfect representation of his and Y/N's love and they would help grow that love into something even better. When Asher hit four years old, the spouses thought that it was time to make their family grow. However, trying to conceive a child the second time around is proving to be harder than when they created Asher. It’s been two years and no luck seems to be in sight for the couple. Rafe can see how the lack of success is affecting his angel. She no longer holds any excitement or hope while taking a pregnancy test. She will pee on the stick and leave it on the bathroom sink as soon as she is done, not bothering to wait by it anymore. Rafe wants to do anything to make her feel better, but what can he do if she refuses to go to a fertility clinic with him? He doesn’t blame her for not wanting to go. He knows that any answer they get can just lead to one of them feeling incredibly guilty. They’ve always talked about foster children, except that was only after they had one more child biologically. Because as selfish as it was, they wanted at least one stable sibling for Asher to have while growing up before they opened his world up to siblings, who could come and go. Sure, they could always adopt the children, but the parents recognize the fact that some children in the foster system are there until their permanent home is made stable again and that is the main reason why the pair wanted to foster. To give the children in waiting a safe place to be while their parents either find a stable home or try to find a sober path.

The lack of being able to conceive again makes Y/N question whether the universe has more children in mind for them. It makes her think that she doesn’t deserve more kids, so even fostering or adoption is off the table. In all honesty, she just doesn’t know if she can deal with even the slightest possibility of rejection by those systems. This test in her hand is the last chance she is giving them to have the future they planned for them. She is exhausted by the disappointment and can’t deal with it anymore. Rafe pleads with the universe to be on their side for once in this process. The timer goes off and both of them hold their breath as they look at the result. Negative. Tears stream down her face at what she sees. Rafe tries to pull her into a hug to comfort her, but she shrugs off his hold and throws the test in the garbage can.

She walks out of their bathroom and heads to the kitchen. Asher is on the couch watching TV. His eyes flicker to his mother and he spots the salty droplets rolling down her face. He abandons the TV show and runs to hug her. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” he worries, snuggling his face into her leg. She smiles down at him and picks him up in her arms. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, “Mommy is okay. She just found out some bad news today.” “Oh, what happened?” he asks for clarification. She hears Rafe’s footsteps approach and he stands at the entrance of the hallway, watching the scene from a distance to give her space. Her eyes lock with his and they make a silent agreement over what to say. They agree to tell him the truth. They believe that if they want Asher to be emotionally intelligent, then they have to be open about how and why they feel a certain way. “Well, you know how you’ve been asking for a little brother or sister,” she starts. He nods. “Mommy and Daddy found out that we can’t have one and it makes Mommy sad because we really wanted to have one and we know how much you did too.” Asher snuggles his face into her neck, “It’s okay, Mommy. I know you tried your hardest to give me one. It’s like you said, you tried your hardest and that is what counts.” Asher notices his father in the hallway and beckons him over. Rafe approaches his son. “Daddy, can you help me make Mommy tea please?”

Y/N lets out a sob, covering her mouth to try to hide it. Her son’s words fill her with warmth and a sense of pride. She and Rafe are raising Asher to be a fine young man. She can’t believe that through this whole process, she forgot how great the child she already has is. “You are too sweet. Mommy and Daddy are so glad to have you because you are our perfect boy, Baby,” she praises, pressing another kiss on his cheek. Although raising another baby may not be in their cards, Y/N is so grateful that she still gets to be the mother of an amazing little boy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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sporadicthingcollection · 8 months

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La faccia infarina (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy swears at a child, draws on his face, and experiences a revelation. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~1.4k. Warnings: Pregnancy mention, childbirth mention, a lot of swearing.

A/N: i'm ovulating so please enjoy an episode of what i like to call Reproducing With Men Who Should Not Be Trusted With Children.

Doing his makeup is much easier when there's no distractions to occupy him. Unfortunately, he's got a big one today and, for once, it isn't you trying to get into his pants.

Though that exact scenario is definitely what resulted in this new distraction. It was either that or the time after the party.

"Don't even think about it," Buggy says firmly.

Keeda grabs a drawer and tries to yank it open. A disembodied foot gently nudges him away. The boy stares at him in indignation, then blows a raspberry. He reaches again, whining when the foot still bars his way.

Buggy raises a brow at him. "Getting fresh, huh?" Another raspberry. "Floor privileges revoked."

He picks the boy up by the collar and plops him in his lap. He squeaks and squeals, trying to squirm away, but Buggy holds him tight.

"Y'know, I liked you better when you were a prop," he says. He swipes his lipstick along his cheeks. "You'd just lay there and make noises and shit yourself. None of this 'trying to kill yourself when I'm not looking' shtick."

Keeda resigns himself to his prison and is now pouting, making little huffs. He glances up with big, pleading eyes, lower lip quivering.

Buggy scoffs. "Don't try that pathos crap on me. I know what you look like when you're about to cry."

A long, low whine makes Buggy falter. Uh oh. He glances down.

Keeda lunges upwards, trying to grab the lipstick. Buggy pops his hand off just out of reach -- this is the expensive stuff. Can't have a baby eating it. Again.

"What's gotten into you today?" Keeda lunges again. Buggy pops his second hand off to cap the lipstick and stick it back in the drawer. "Sheesh, kid. Cool it."

"Bappo," Keeda says with a glare. Baby for pay attention to me, asshole, I'm right here.

A lightbulb goes off. He pulls a bag of pigment sticks from the drawer and dumps them onto the table. "You want your face done like Daddy's?" He spins the boy around to face the vanity. "Pick your war paint."

Keeda scans the selection and, with short chubby fingers, he selects a blue pigment stick. He then tries to shove it in his mouth, but Buggy grabs it before he can chomp it.

Buggy smiles as he regards the color. He was wearing this when he met you -- diamonds over his eyes as he tried to kill you. From hating his guts to fucking him stupid to bearing his child. How times change.

He takes the boy's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. He can't believe he's still so damn small. A year in and he figured he'd be more... child-sized. Buggy's still afraid a strong breeze will shatter the kid like glass.

With gentle hands, he draws. Short strokes are best on soft, chubby skin with a lot of give. Keeda gazes at him all the while. He's got your eyes, warm and dark as charcoal.

Buggy licks his thumb and smooths out the edges. Keeda presses into his touch like a cat and gives him a smile, one that he can't help but return.

The idea of fatherhood terrified him. Horrified him. He thought about turning himself into the Marines right then and there. If his old captain couldn't do it, how could he be expected to do it? He's not half as competent as everyone seems to believe and you know he's a buffoon. Why would you want to have his kid?

Buggy finishes the diamonds and spins the boy to face the mirror. "Well?"

Keeda squints at himself. He touches his reflection. After a moment of contemplation, he speaks. "Fsshala."

He's been saying that a lot lately. You keep telling him that it's just nonsense babbling, but Buggy knows the truth.

"I agree," he says. "Let's make it flashy!"

He spins the boy back around, making him giggle. Truly the world's most remarkable sound.

He still doesn't have an answer for why you put yourself through nine months of pure terror. Was it your selfish desire for a family? Or did you see a truth hidden deep in his soul, so deep that he had no idea it existed until he held his son for the first time, still bright pink and howling?

Carefully, he traces two long lines up from the tips of the diamonds. He crosses them at the middle of his forehead, curls them into a heart, and adorns it with dots.

As is, Keeda looks more like you. Your dark hair, your dark eyes... and your nose, thank fucking god. He couldn't live with himself if his monstrosity was inheritable.

He was worried at first. How could he be sure that he's your son's father? He trusts you, but there was always that doubt gnawing at the back of his head until a few months in, when Keeda started getting expressive. In every giggle, in every glower, in every grin, there was Buggy the Clown.

Speaking of smiles, his mouth looks a little bare. A nice golden yellow would suit him.

Buggy picks up the pigment stick in one hand and smushes the boy's cheeks together with the other. "Pucker up, buttercup."

Keeda squirms a bit as he paints his mouth, swirling the corners up into cute little spirals. He licks his lips and sputters. "Pfeh!"

Buggy chuckles. "Weren't like that last week. You loved the stuff." He lifts the boy and spins him around to see his reflection. "Now you're lookin' more like your old man."

Keeda stares at himself. He tips his head one way, then the other. His eyes narrow and his brows furrow. He lets out a low, pensive whine.

Oh no. Does he not like it? Is he going to cry? Please don't cry. "Wait wait wait." He turns him around and lifts him to stand on his lap. "Don't get upset--"

A little spark flashes in the boy's eyes. The frown vanishes and he reaches up, tiny fingers grabbing for something.

Buggy's gotten enough hair ripped out to jerk away on impulse. "Something on my face?"

A tiny hand baps him on the nose. Buggy flinches. Fuckin' thing in the way again.

He angles his head, waiting for Keeda to tap what he was really aiming for. And again, he gets bapped right on the nose.

...no. There's no way.

Another bap, this time with an impatient glower. "Isso," Keeda says firmly. Baby talk for this.

Buggy's heart is in his throat as he picks up the red pigment stick. With shaky hands, he outlines the boy's nose -- a cute little button -- and draws a circle.

He swallows thickly. He clenches his jaw. He turns him around.

Keeda's eyes widen, then scrunch into crescents as he lets out a delighted squeal. "Papa!" he says, grinning up at Buggy. He flops backwards back into his lap, giggling and wiggling. "Papa!"

He's not sure how long he sits there at the vanity, listening to his baby chatter happily, but it must be awhile because you eventually come calling.

"Oh, there you guys are,” you say. "You chuckleheads having fun without me?"

"Amama!" Keeda stands in Buggy's lap and waves at you. He points at the mirror. "Issoooooo."

You appear at Buggy's shoulder, grinning brilliantly. "Aw, look at you," you croon. "Did Daddy do your makeup? Or did you get into his shit when he wasn't looking?"

Buggy's voice comes out in a tight croak. "I did it."

"Well, damn, it looks great! You never do my makeup that well--" Your gaze flickers to him in the mirror, and your smile vanishes. "...Are you crying?"

He sniffles. Loudly. "No."

You give him one of your do-you-need-a-psych-eval looks. "Bugs, your mascara's running."

Something hot and wet rolls down to his chin. "No, it's not."

You look at his reflection in the mirror, then back to him. "Either smile or cry. Doing both is freaking me out."

He wraps his arms around Keeda, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. "Fuckin' love you so much, you little shit," he murmurs into his hair.

Keeda squeals and giggles.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #keeda the clown

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lazyneonrabbitt · 1 month

Text

Get rid of it.

🐺Daryl Dixon x Reader

You and Daryl never fought, until you did. Daryl relives old traumas while you stay at Hilltop.

To everyone around, you and Daryl seemed like the perfect couple.

And you two felt like it too.

Daryl always claimed to be blessed having you at his side. You had never once complained about his upbringing showing through in his actions, or got scared of him after finding out what he was. A monster. But not to you.

The two of you were the perfect picture for a new family.

Except that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The two of you had never fought in your time together, not even when Daryl distanced himself after he thought he scared you and convinced himself you wanted to leave. But today the whole community was turned upside down by Daryl’s roaring voice directed at no one else but you.

You had cone back from the infirmary after some nausea and constant tiredness, only to find out you and Daryl had been less careful when being intimate than you at first thought. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you walked into the house where he sat in his chair, cleaning his crossbow.

“Daryl, look!” You were smiling so bright it piqued Daryl’s interest enough to put down his stuff and get up to look at the little thing in your outstretched hands.

“Nah.” His eyes went wide with horror, all color draining from him as he shoved you aside and in long strides barely made it to the counter before his lunch met the sink. You followed his movements and stared in shock. You never saw him puke, ever. He could stomach anything, never even getting nauseous in the slightest but now you watched him empty his stomach right there in front of you.

Your arms lowered as you pocketed the little white stick that showed the perfect little future others would often joke about. It was going to become real now and you were excited, but it seemed Daryl felt different about it.

With tears streaming down his cheeks and drool hanging off his lip he turned his head ever so slightly to look at you. “Ya never asked me. M’tellin’ ya no, right now.” He was still heaving over the sink, barely moving as he stood, visibly shaking on his legs.

“Daryl, you okay?” Moving forward ever so carefully you reached out for his arm but got your hand swatted away with a loud, angry growl.

“Get the FUCK away from me!” The change in his voice knocked the wind out of you, making you back up all the way agains the front door where you had a chance to run but still see Daryl. “Daryl, what’s going on?” The fear was catching up to you and you felt disgusted by yourself. You didn’t fear him, it was one of the qualities he loved about you and praised you for but now with his strange reaction you couldn’t help but want to run and hide.

Especially because he was now making his way up to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and a look in his eyes you couldn’t seem to figure out.

You were halfway onto the porch, your heartbeat ringing so loud in your ears you barely heard his snarls. “I thought you’d be happy.. I want this.” You stammered through the short sentence, hand gripping the edge of the stairs so hard you were convinced you’d bruise your fingers.

With a rough breath Daryl got right in your face. “Ain’t NO WAY I’m lettin’ ya go an’ do this.” his hand swung out, right in front of your face, but passing it barely as he pointed back in the direction of the infirmary. “Ne’er asked ya fer a kid!” His voice traveled, and already started gathering curious looks from folks. “Yer gonna march yer ass back to Denise, and get FUCKIN’ RID OF IT!”

His roared command had you stagger backwards and almost trip down the stairs, barely catching yourself before storming off in fear.

You wanted to scream back at him, tell him how badly you wanted this. For how long you had wanted this but words caught in the back of your throat and wouldn’t come out so you just did as he asked and ran.

Denise immediately caught on when you came back in crying your eyes out, letting you sit off to the side until you ran out of tears and caught your breath enough to talk somewhat okay again.

“I take he didn’t like the surprise? I’m really sorry. I hope he just needs some time to let it all sink in.” Denise had sat down cross-legged on the floor with you, holding out a hand for you to take and ground yourself.

“He got so scared.” You were barely believing your own words. Daryl didn’t get scared ever. “Then he got mad..”

Your words shocked the medic, having known and gotten close to Daryl for a while now and had seen her share of arguments between the archer and other adults in the community, but to say she had ever seen him seriously mad would be a lie. “I’m so sorry. What did he say?”

Back at the house Rick had sent the onlookers away as he and Carol went inside, following after their angry friend.

“Daryl.” Rick’s tone was stern, his aura oozing authority but quickly dropping the act as he saw his brother’s bloodshot eyes and trembling hands. Carol read each and every one of his tells like she was the one who labeled them all in the first place and knew he was close to losing the last bit of his humanity he was currently desperately clinging onto. “Please tell us what happened?”

She knew her action could end up badly but decided to step towards her best friend, offering a hand to ground him like you normally would when his emotions got the best of him. The growl that left the hunter as he breathed out filled the room with an eery energy. Back at the quarry when Daryl still lost his temper more often there were woods around where he could run and hide into, but now he was inside of a house, inside of a community with high walls that even he couldn’t climb easily. He had to keep a hold over himself now.

“..Pup.” He had a difficulty finding his words, eyes unable to focus on anything and looking frantically around the room. “She.. She tol’ me jus’ now.” Hands went from pockets to sleeve ends back to being chewed on or swiping at loose strands of hair that were suddenly the most distracting things in life, wanting to tear them out right that second. “Sent ‘er off to Denise.”

"Why send her to the infirmary, Daryl?" It was Rick's turn to question him again. He was unsure of his reasonings, why would he send you away after such news?

Daryl’s annoyed but confused grunt had the other two confused along with him. Were they supposed to know his reasonings? He never spoke about the subject of having a family with you, they only knew about his shitty father and dead mother.

“Get outta my house.” Daryl’s voice was calm and the message was clear. After giving each other a look they agreed it was best to follow the man’s request and leave him be for now. Halfway out of the door though, they both stopped and turned to face their friend once more. “You’ll do great, don’t doubt that please.” Carol’s look was one of sadness while Rick added to her reassuring words with a smile and a nod.

Neither did anything to calm the hurt inside of Daryl, instead only getting on his nerves more than they already had by showing up.

“I said get the FUCK OUT.” With a long stride forward he backed them out onto the porch with a roar and slammed the door shut, locking it and retreating downstairs.

While Daryl turned to sleep to keep his anger at bay, Rick went home and Carol took a detour to find you and Denise still sitting on the floor of the infirmary.

Your eyes were puffy and red as you looked at her from down below and followed her movements to where she sat down with you two.

With a heavy heart you repeated the events from before Carol spoke with Daryl and after some more reassuring she agreed to walk you home again.

Once inside you thanked the universe for Daryl not being in the main area and you could go to bed without any more trouble.

Sadly drama didn’t stay at bay for long. The next you were sitting at the dinner table with your breakfast when Daryl came upstairs from his basement room, looking like absolute hell. His hair was an even bigger mess than it normally was in the morning, and you swore the bags under his eyes were a few shades darker than usual.

You wanted to ask him how he was feeling, but the stare and low growl that left him was enough of an answer by itself.

Sighing at yourself you decided to give him more time and went to follow your daily routines as usual and let him make the initial contact when he was up for it.

You ate dinner alone that evening. The other half of your bed stayed empty that night. And another scowl after the first few sniffs of the day were again the only interaction you had.

Today’s issue was worse. You both had nothing to do and were going to be in each others’ way somehow.

You were spending the day around the house doing chores, taking a quick shower and making dinner prep early so you had some time to relax. You were having a small meal to take your new vitamins with when Daryl came upstairs and tried his best to avoid you. His only problem was his weapons that laid beside you on the table.

Involuntarily he sniffed the air, like a reflex his animal side never is human form and all he could do was try to shake off the conflicting feelings it brought. He wanted to bury his nose in your hair and keep inhaling your delicious scent, but with every intake of breath it felt like someone shot a bolt through his chest, the screaming in his head only getting louder each time.

“I’ll leave if you want me to.” Your tone was dry and unamused. “S’not it..” It was the most he had said to you since your last fight, but it was clear he was holding back a lot of his thoughts. You knew Daryl had a horrible upbringing and were aware of his fear of being a bad parental figure, but he had proven the opposite many times over already. Still you got up to put your plate away, “You know you’re the only one who thinks you’d be a shitty dad, right?”

Your words seemed to only anger him further as he growled way louder now, making you turn to him and see him standing in the middle of the room, visibly shaking. “Why aint ya listnin’ ta me?” He wasn’t looking you in the eyes, nervously moved his weight from one foot to the other.

Why weren’t you listening? He had barely heard the news and freaked out so bad he never gave you a chance to talk before barking you out the door. Literally.

“Listen to you?” Now it was your turn to get angry. “You haven’t even given me a chance to talk!” Your sudden snap had him step back, eyes wide in panic. “Not even a chance to discus! An immediate no and angry barking was all I got. You wouldn’t even let me tell you how bad I want this, for how goddamn long I’ve wanted this!”

Your blood boiled now, were you finally seeing that bad side Daryl always talked about? “I’m keeping it. Just stay away if you can’t agree.” With your arms crossed over your chest you sniffled, all the fighting was really getting to you.

“Just FUCKIN’ listen!” Daryl’s words more of a roar than a yell, coming from deep down along with the change in his eyes that only happened when his beast tried to come out.

“I ain’t gonna let tha’ thing kill ya! Not like it killed her!” The second the words left his lips he dropped to his knees, his body jerking with each ugly sob that racked his entire being as the memories he tried to forget resurfaced with a force that knocked the wind out of him.

“F— fuck..”

With each intake of breath your scent filled his nostrils and brought back the trauma he so desperately tried to keep at bay. He shared more with his loved ones these days, but not this. Never this.

——

“Dee, hey.” Her voice was quiet, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, making him quicken his steps up her driveway where he had just parked his bike. Within seconds he her, his face stuffed in her frizzy curls. “God, ya smell delicious today. Wanna live ‘ere With ma face in yer neck.” The low grumble in his chest was something she could never get enough of, but she needed to pry him off in order to continue with his surprise. “Come inside, baby. Got something for ya. Promise you’ll love it.”

Once inside he found a small box with his name on it. “Go on, look!” Daryl sat himself down on the blanketed couch, much nicer than the ratty one full of holes and broken springs he had at home. He ever so carefully reached and lifted the lid off the box, his eyes lifting to stare at his girlfriend. “Yer kiddin’ me, aintya?” His briht blue eyes shone with excitement at the sight of the small white plastic showing off two little pink lines that indicated the next step towards their future.

“Mom was so excited, she insisted in coming along because she said she knew already anyways.” She laughed at her lover as he had gotten up to round the small table and envelop her in the most loving hug. “Yer mom’s amazin’ fer bein’ fine with us. With this.” He barely believed it every time he came up to her home. He found someone who looked past his racist family members and actively helped him lessen those habits integrated into his person from a young age. Even her family accepted the young ‘white trash’ boy her daughter had brought home those years ago. Hell, he was more than happy to keep his family out of this whole ordeal and never see them again after this news.

“Shit, we gotta get all kinds’a baby stuff now. Ain’t sure where ta start..” There was another thing prodding at the back of his mind. “Hey, what’s yer parents gon’ say when they see the kid and it aint, ya know..” He made a hand gesture to figure out how to say what he wanted, but failing entirely. “What if it aint human?”

The soft giggle that left her lips was like heaven on earth and calmed his nerves in a second. “Dee, they know about you and accepted that part of you too, even if they’ve never seen it before.”

That day’s news was followed by a few days of Daryl packing up his belongings and officially moving in with his partner, leaving his family behind for safety reasons. If they ever found out he was having a child with someone who wasn’t as much white trash as they were, shotguns would be loaded and a hunt would be started.

To their family’s luck the other Dixons stayed away and the weeks passed quietly and turned into months. The spare room cleared out and turned into a nursery for the little one. Even without the usual doctor’s appointments due to Daryl’s fear of seeing something they shouldn’t on the ultrasound she was healthy and the kid had a steady heartbeat.

Only two more weeks before they’d meet their child.

With time passing quick they got a lot of visits from her parents. While mom stayed with the mother to be and helped with cooking and laundry, keeping the house clean and making sure the soon to be mother was doing alright, the men w worked on the last finishing touches in the nursery and baby-proofing the home.

After working the whole day everyone had gathered in the kitchen, where father sat at the dinner table and mother cooked while the two lovers stood leaning agains the counter. Daryl’s back rested against the cupboards with her back against his front, his hands below her belly to relieve some weight. “Kid’s active. Been like tha’ all day?” Even now Daryl still had his nose in the crook of her neck, taking in her delicious scent.

With all the plates and food on the moved out of Daryl’s grasp, slowly waddling towards her spot as Daryl grabbed their drinks off the counter. His back was turned to her what she groaned in pain. He turned just in time to see her drop to her knees and let out a cry. In a second her scent turned foul as she screamed.

Blood.

Her pastel sweats stained red down to her knees, choked sobs leaving her as her arms clutched around her swollen belly that violently spasmed.

No. It wasn’t her muscles spasming. The pup woke early and needed a way out. He picked up the energy of a panicked wolf amidst the chaos of his own fear, her pain and her parents’ shouting.

Frantic breaths and quickened heartbeats then turned to silence, and with a loud thud she fell.

His vision went black and the voices now screamed at him. “I knew we shouldn’t have let her go through with this! I warned you it wasn’t safe!” The man’s voice rung right above him where Daryl knelt over his love, ear pressed against her chest, her belly but hearing nothing. Only the loud, soul crushing sobs of her mother. “Y.. You.. Killed.. Her..” she spoke between sobs. He didn’t know what to do, his body ached all over and his mind howled to drown out the curses thrown at him.

“You’re nothing but a monster! A.. A murderer!” That was the last thing he heard before he lost himself and ran. His feral side took over and forced him to turn, run back to the woods he knew like home.

Its where he spent weeks, hiding from humanity. Its where he swore to never have another child again.

——

“Please.. Get rid of it, m’beggin’ ya..” His gaze was still focused on the floor, a wet stain from his tears right under his shaking form.

His words struck you where it hurt. You felt his pain, but you couldn’t be sure what happened back then would happen now. You quickly fond solutions to things that happened back then, ruling them out and seeing no reason to give up this child out of fear. “I’m sorry..” You wanted so badly to please him, but after a lifetime of never having anything you wanted you weren’t going to accept no. “I’m going to keep it, I see your fears but I want this.” Yeah, it was selfish, but you had to not care about that for once. “I’ll leave for Hilltop tomorrow. Maggie’s there and they have a doctor, so we’ll be safe.”

And so you did. Daryl gave no response to your decision but was gone when you came back downstairs. He stayed gone over the time you spent packing and getting a vehicle ready and you assumed he’d gone out into the woods again. Rosita drove out with you, trying to keep a conversation going but you were too distracted scanning the woods for a sign of your lover, but you never caught him and soon arrived at Hilltop.

It wasn't fun having to again repeat why you were there and Daryl wasn't, but Maggie made sure you were comfortable and getting your needed checkups over time.

Against the better judgement of the others you always sat in on radios to Alexandria that brought updates from and to you.

"Thanks for willing to show up this time. She's doing great." Jesus was the one updating today, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smiled at you sitting beside him. The line stayed quiet for a second before Daryl's voice came through. "Course she's still fine now. Pup aint big enough ta harm 'er yet."

With that the line went quiet again and you were left with no updates on their side for now.

Having no other option than accepting it for now you went back to your daily routine of helping around the community by doing light tasks. You wondered how Daryl would respond if he knew you were out and about instead of resting in bed the whole time had things gone better. He'd blow a fuse for sure.

In Alexandria Daryl was finally home long enough to be cornered by Rick and Carol. He wanted nothing more than to run, but his endless hunting and changing forms constantly had him exhausted, so his only choice now was to hear his friends out.

“Would you please share why you fought so bad about this?” Carol asked after a moment as the three were seated around the coffee table in the living room, with Daryl in his armchair and the others on the couch. “It can’t be that you think you’d be a bad father. The way you handle Judith shows you know what you’re doing.”

“Aint the problem. ‘S sumthin’ else.” Daryl was back to shaking, feeling his worthless kid self creep to the surface of his being, resting right underneath his skin.

“Will you tell us, brother?”

Brother, right. Another brother he kept all of this from. Maybe if he told him he'd be on his side, unlike you.. So that's what he did.

"Used ta have a girl 'fore all'a this." There was an immediate interest in the story, and Daryl went on to share the traumatic memory that had been haunting his nightmares for over a month now.

"Shit scared me so bad I hid in the woods fer weeks.."

Carol wanted nothing more than to get up and hug her friend, and Rick could only share what went on in his mind after what happened to Lori.

The three of them shared their most personal experiences of losing loved ones in their lifetime, but in the end neither Rick or Carol could convince Daryl to go see you.

The news was radio'ed to Hilltop, where you accepted it, as you did each time the bringer of news came to you with a sad look in their eyes.

While the child inside you grew you felt surprisingly fine. The women who had children before shared their tales of tiredness, nausea and mood swings with you, and eventually about bringing their children into the world as well. While some stories sounded more like horrors to you, they all still laughed and enjoyed recollecting the memories and assuring you there was nothing to worry about with the doc around.

The closer you got to your due date, which Daryl was so kind to share seeing you didn’t know about this part of being with a werewolf, Daryl’s anxiety got even worse. Unable to go out hunting and be away from the radio, but also wanting to tear the thing to shreds so it wouldn’t sit there haunting him. He kept hearing the static of a connection forming before the voice would come through, but each time it was just his imagination. He was waiting for the bad news to come in any hour now. Waiting for the ‘sorry, Daryl. We couldn’t do anything.’ from the other end of the radio. Sleeping was out of the question too, being plagued by nightmares nearly every time he closed his eyes.

Daryl never kept up with a calendar, but he clung to the one in his home now like his life depended on it. Your due date was tomorrow and those dreaded words hadn’t been shared yet.

Any of his hourly “Ya heard anythin’?”s came with a negative answer. It meant you were at least alive, still. For now.

His anxious asking kept up for three days until he finally ran out of strength and passed out, getting much needed sleep for once.

His sleep didn’t last long. Rick was at his side, shaking him awake and backing up as he got snapped at. “The hell ya want, Rick?”

“Get your ass to the radio. Hilltop called, she’s in labour.” While the news shocked him and he felt the urge to go talk to you, he couldn’t get himself out of bed and have to relive the horrors of something going wrong. He’d never forgive himself for not trying harder to convince you.

Despite knowing he could easily get his neck snapped he kept pushing Daryl to go but never succeeded, eventually giving up to keep the peace.

It was hours later he was being disturbed again. Carol came by this time with a walkie in her hands.

“Alright, I’m here. Have her talk.” Daryl turned to Carol’s voice, not stopping his work on the other side of the room.

“Dee? Can you hear me? We’re fine, both of us are fine.” The clatter of metal on the concrete floor spooked Carol, but not as much as the speed of Daryl moving towards her and snatching the walkie from her hands. “Yer fine? How?” There was just static at the other end of the line for a bit and Carol could swear she saw tears threatening to spill. “We got a walkie against the radio, it takes a second.” His attention was back to the walkie immediately.

“I had the pup. I’m healthy and so is she.”

Oh. The guilt of leaving her to do all of this on her own overpowered the anxiety of waiting for the horrible news entirely, unsure what to do first he tossed the walkie to Carol and threw on his vest over his ratty sweater and headed out the door. “Tell ‘er I’m headin’ over!”

Calling back a confirmation was unnecessary with the loud rumble of his motorcycle, so she made her way back to where the radio was set up. No need to share the details, seeing the others were outside already to see him ride out the gate.

“Hey, he’s on his way.” Jesus’ head peeked into the room where you were settled to rest in private. Maggie was finding you something to eat and going to see a seamstress to adjust your pup’s clothes. You knew it would be a while before Daryl would arrive, needing to come all the way from Alexandria. You had plenty of time to rest and eat before he'd get there.

Daryl rode like a madman to get to you as fast as possible and found the gate to Hilltop already opened, awaiting his arrival.

Sadly he found Gregory as first person to welcome him and tried his schtick of having people not just barge into his community all the time, but getting shoved aside with an angry snarl s Daryl passed him and followed his nose to where you rested.

Daryl found the room you were in, having sniffed you out with ease but found himself anxious again as his hand found the doorknob. He had been the worst partner to you those months ago. How was he supposed to look you in the eye knowing he let you leave to supposedly die?

“Hey, oww. Careful, you.” He caught your voice and it was like his body moved on its own, no doubt his other half’s need to see the child winning over his anxiety.

“Hey, Dee.” The smile you had on your face was no less than the one you held when you first handed him that test that started so much drama. But what truly kept all of his attention right now was the little bundle of fur laying curled up on your chest.

“She fell asleep after feeding. Come see.” Your hand moved slow to not disturb the sleeping pup, and reached for Daryl to come closer from where he still stood at the door.

He was so overwhelmed he needed a moment to gather himself and move forward to where you laid in bed. “M’sorry.” It was the only thing that made it past his lips before you saw tears rolling down his cheeks. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and rested his head in one arm as the other went to take your hand in his. He didn’t say anything else, but you knew he just needed time to process. You let him get his mind to calm down and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles for a while before your pup woke and unrolled herself clumsily. She slipped off your body and plopped right against Daryl’s head, immediately sniffing around in his hair and let out soft whines that had Daryl move to look at her up close.

His own eyes stared back at him, surrounded in a shade that resembled your hair color most. A soft pink nose pressed against his as the barrage of sniffs continued.

“Thanks, fer not hurtin’ yer mom.” His voice was soft and his hands found her small body, lifting her as he stood up to sit on the bed with you now that you had a chance to move again.

“Should’ve stayed with ya.” A simple sentence you agreed with, but still you forgave him for everything that happened. You also had your time to think and understood why he did what he did.

Truthfully none of it mattered anymore. You had your little family here now and everyone was healthy.

“You’re all okay, Dear. You had your reasons and it’s over now. You’re here.” You were rested against his shoulder as he held his daughter in his lap, staring with true love in his eyes.

“She looks like a Lily.” Daryl spoke after a long stretch of comfortable silence. “Soft ‘n delicate.”

You cuddled further into him, reaching out to take your daughter’s paw.

“Then Lily it’ll be.”

You were going to be okay, the three of you.

A/N: Oh man this one took so long I had to reread constantly to see where I left off!

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

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the-stick-of-quotes · 1 month

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Kyle: You’re the most repulsive person I’ve ever met.

New kid: I’ve punched government employees in the face.

[The Wedding March starts playing]

New kid: Where the fuck am I-

#south park x reader #south park x new kid #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x new kid #stick of truth x reader #the stick of truth x new kid #tfbw x new kid #tfbw x reader

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thewritingofspencerrose · 5 months

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Crumbling Down

carlos sainz x Piquet!wife oc & secret family

this is meant with no real negativity to cs55's girlfriend rebecca, and only discusses her in a slight poor light due to plot reasons.

Private Account

verity.sainz a perfect break with my whole world before flying is restricted once more by baby #4 🤍

carlossainz55 mi corazon ❤️

f1wags and we're back to race week with the first public appearance of Carlos Sainz's new girlfriend!

fan1 WHY DOES HE HAVE HIS EYES OPEN WHEN THEY KISS?

"Carlo," I can't help the crack in my voice when I say his name, "You said you would say no to them. You said you wouldn't abuse our desire to keep our private life private like this."

"Mi amor," The pet name hurts, something that used to make my body buzz with joy making me want to cry harder as I wrap my arm around my rounded stomach. "They were insistent, I've never had a woman come to the paddock outside my family and they say I needed to change that."

"You haven't gone with a woman because we decided to remain private! We didn't want to pressures of the world! So we got married, and then we had Carlos and Junie and then they were each too young to go, and just as we were about to announce the family, I got pregnant with Flora and now with Tilly-"

"Tilly? As in Matilda?" He asks, interrupting my emotional rate with a tone that is too close to joy. "You found out the baby's gender?"

We had picked out names. This wasn't how he was supposed to find out.

"Yes, she's a little girl," I admit, "The kids and I had a whole plan how to announce it once you got home."

"I can't wait to see what you have planned," Is his answer, the sounds of the garage around him getting slowly quieter as I can only assume he moves towards his drivers room.

The idea of him coming home after kissing her to kiss me, to kiss our children's foreheads, makes me want to be sick.

"At the moment Carlos, I can't promise the kids and I will be here when you get home," I whisper, the truth slipping out like razorblades. "I think we're going to go see my parents."

"Vera, you're not meant to be flying. We were cutting it close with out trip as it is," He answers, voice strong and commanding.

"That's what's upsetting you? The fact that I will be traveling and not that I've just told you that your wife and children won't be home to greet you when you return because you're parading around another woman? Because when Carlos and Junie put on the race to see their father they'll see her name with yours underneath?"

"Verity, you know that's not what I want-"

"Then why did you agree? Why did you agree after I cried to you about how the idea of you with another woman made me ill?"

"It was for a good reason," His answer is hesitant, and you can tell he doesn't mean it.

"I hope the reason was enough for you, Carlos, because I can't keep letting you love us in the dark. We'll be with a friend since you're so concerned about me traveling." He did have a good point on that matter, but I can't help but say it before hanging up, not giving him a moment to respond as I waddle my way to the living room, dropping myself on the couch.

"Mamá?" Carlos III's voice calls, his head of hair like his fathers sticking out from behind the hallway wall, "Que occure? (What happened?)"

"Oh my baby, nothing happened," I try to assure, attempting to get all the tears off my cheeks before he can really notice.

"Mamá," He prompts this time, sounding entirely fed up with my response as he moves into the room, such a serious look for a seven year old. "I heard you on the phone with Papá. What has he done?"

"Something that you do not need to worry yourself about mi mundo (my world)," I assure, pulling him into my side as he gets close. He curls into my side, hand resting on my stomach as he's done with his other sisters.

"Hola Tilly," He greets her, placing a quick kiss to where he feels her kick before looking up to me, his father's spitting image. "We're going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa?"

"No, you're father made the point that I can't travel anymore, so we're going to go see if tia Kelly and prima Penelope are up for some visitors, yeah?"

"I'll go get my suitcase and start packing," He agrees, giving me a small smile as he moves to get up. I know I'll have to repack his suitcase later, but as he runs off, all I can be is grateful for this little angel who blessed us when we were young and unprepared, much to my fathers chagrin. But my kids are who keep me together as I dial my sister's number, tears coming to my eyes when I hear her voice.

"Vera? Honey are you crying?"

"Kel, can the kids and I come visit?"

"Always. P will prep her toys and I will prep the guest rooms."

"What the fuck were you thinking," The angered Red Bull driver shouts across the paddock, storming towards the Ferrari drivers who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Max, what's-"

"This doesn't involve you, Charlie," The Dutchman silences, eyes blazes of fire as they move to the Spaniard who's practically his brother-in-law. "You brought your girlfriend to a race and expected that to go well with your wife? The mother of your four children?"

"Tell me you did not," Charles chimes in, unable to keep the words from slipping out of his mouth at news. He had seen Carlos with a woman earlier, but had only assumed her to be a new member of his media team.

"It is none of your concern, Verstappen. What happens between my wife and I is just that."

"And I'll respect that when your actions aren't broadcasted to the entire world and having Vera call Kelly sobbing saying she's packing up the kids and leaving," Max fumes, Carlos's expression dropping at the knowledge. He had known that she was upset, that she had threatened to leave, but he thought it was just that, a threat. Not that she would actually leave the home they had designed together in Nice.

"After this race you better fix your fucking mess, because I will enforce whatever Verity wants, whether that is keeping you away from her and the kids or not."

And the Dutchman storms off, not waiting for a response.

"Kelly, I am only here to see my family."

"Carlos, you've been in our family for nine years, by law seven, but I can promise you that if Vera doesn't want you here, you will not be entering this apartment," The elder Piquet daughter warns, eyes angered by the mans simple presence.

"Kel, can I come in?" Max questions, not wanting to answer her more but also hoping to embrace her and Penelope, any week without them feeling too long.

She smiles at him, having missed him as well but her expression quickly steels. "Not if you are bringing him in with you."

"Kelly," I finally interrupt, having enough of seeing her scold my husband through the door as I breastfeed Flora. "You can just let them in, but please warn Max that I'm feeding Flora," I request, hating the idea of making the man uncomfortable in his home.

"You're okay, Ver," Max offers, his eyes immediately meeting my own and not leaving as Kelly opens the door, him and Carlos entering. "Kelly and I are actually going to go say hi to the kids, I've missed P and all of them," he says, kissing my sisters lips in a quick peck.

"Is Flora done? We could take her with us?" And it's like Flor could understand her aunt's question, because she's unlatching on cue, allowing me to pull up the piece of my top to cover myself and nod to Kel.

"Would you please? She just needs to be-"

"Burped," Max finished, taking my current youngest into his arms, kissing her head as he moves her to his shoulder. "Between P and my nephews, we've got this covered. Just let us know when you're done," He offers, kissing the side of my head.

"Thank you."

"Anything for family," He just smiles, the expression falling when he turns to Carlos who has been frozen in place. "Say the wrong things and your ass will be on the street before you can say forza ferrari."

"Sí- I mean, yes, of course," His eyes meeting mine before his next words leave his mouth. "I just want to talk apologize my wife."

"Right then, let's go say his to the kids," Kelly prompts, the two walking out with Flora in hand, the cheers of the kids upon seeing their uncle and P seeing her father figure making my heart warm.

"Mi amor, you have no idea how sorry I am for agree to the teams request for even a moment," Carlo apologizes, his body moving towards mine, taking the spot beside me and my hands into his own. "I went back to the team, they've posted an announcement saying that Rebecca and I are not together, and I gave them a photo of us from our wedding."

My heart beat fastens, his eyes meeting mine as his fingers start to fiddle with my wedding band. "Why would you do that?"

"I am having it announced that before my start in formula one I have been madly in love with you. That over those years we have married and created a family in private that I love," He explains, a hand coming to cup my cheek, running his calloused thumb to wipe away the tears that have begun slowly running from my eyes. "I no longer want to hide you. We can keep the kids to ourselves until they're older, but now everyone knows I am taken by the love of my life."

"Carlo," I can't help but whimper, flinging myself at him in a hug. "Te amaré hasta que ya no respire (i will love you until i am no longer breathing)."

"And I, you, mi amor," He assures, kissing the top of my head. "I am more sorry than I could ever put into words."

"You've fixed the situation, Carlo, we can work from this," I smile, little giggles alerting us to our observers.

And wrapped around the corner, piled on top of each other, our children's heads and niece's head are stacked, Junie's under her brothers and Penelope's in between. It's only a moment later thought that Flora appears to be floating on top of Carlos III, Max and Kelly's heads slowly appearing as well.

"Estan bien mamá y papá? (Are you okay mama and papa?)" Juniper questions us, Carlos III placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Sí," Carlos Jr answers, pulling us into a sitting position. "Ven aquí nuestros amores (Come here our loves)." Their little feet carry them strong and fast towards us, gently climbing on top of us, minding my stomach as Kelly approaches us, now holding Flora and resting her gently against my chest with a smile. "We are okay, Papa made a mistake but he has started fixing it and I will be working to so for a time."

"As you should," Carlos III digs, making me smile slightly.

"We love you all," I remind, kissing eaches head, including Penelope. "And we love each other. No matter what, things will work out and we will love you all," my little girl giggling brightly.

"Nosotros tambien te amamos mama (we love you too mama)."

#original character #the writing of spencer rose #formula 1 fanfiction #best friends to lovers trope #formula 1 #long story #carlos sainz #secret family #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #carlos sainz imagine #pregnancy #piquet oc #max verstappen #kelly piquet

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noxturnalpascal · 6 months

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Dancing is a Dangerous Game

(FrankieMorales x F!Stripper!Reader)

A/N & Warnings: Sexual Content below - 18+ only, Frankie doing what he do (iykyk), unspecified age gap (anywhere from 10-15 yrs), talk of stripping/dancing as a job that pays the bills. The photos on the Moodboard are just for fun, the female Reader is not specifically physically described so you can imagine her however you want. Thank you to @saradika for the divider.

Did I make this prompt up myself for me and some fellow writers? Yes. Did I set the word count limit? Also Yes. Did I stick anywhere even close to that limit? *laughs hysterically.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW)

*1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum

WC: 4749 (I have a problem)

Frankie’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he should close it. He knew he looked like a weirdo. He knew he was about to get a “Catfish, lookin’ like a fish” joke from his friends. But for the life of him he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, or close his gaping jaw.

Not since his babysitter walked on stage and started taking her clothes off.

To be fair, you're not his babysitter anymore. Not since he called you three weeks ago asking if you could babysit for him tonight and you broke the news to him that you'd gotten a new job and couldn't babysit anymore. At least now he understands why you left the not-so-lucrative world of babysitting for an arguably better-paying gig.

You've only been dancing for two minutes and he already sees more money on the stage than he would've paid you to sit his kid tonight. He’s been watching as you undulate your body across the stage, bending and dipping, stripping down to your underwear. Even though part of him thinks he should, he definitely doesn’t look away when you divest yourself of your lacy little bra.

He always thought you were hot. He was a newly-single dad, interviewing you for a semi-regular babysitting gig. He tried to focus on your resume and your qualifications. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he couldn’t smell your delicate perfume. He tried to ignore the dewy pink lipgloss you had spread across your mouth, which is in stark contrast to the bright red lipstick you are currently sporting.

He was very motivated by the fact that you, as a graduate student in your mid-20’s, seemed more responsible to leave his kid with than the other applicants to his babysitting ad, all of whom were literal teenagers. But truth be told - you were also really fucking hot. Horny dad and the hot babysitter, what a fucking cliche he was.

However, in the eleven months you babysat for him, he never acted on his inappropriate attraction to you. He never treated you as anything other than an employee. You’d show up to his house, hair in a messy bun, wearing comfy clothes, ready to sit on the living room floor all evening playing with his kid. He was polite, and respectful, and was almost positive you never caught him staring at your tits.

Your tits that he’s most definitely staring at right now. Holy shit you have great tits.

“Fuckin’ A Fish, if you’re gonna keep your mouth open, you could at least pour some beer into it.”

“Huh?” Frankie snaps his head back to the table he’s sat at, surrounded by his friends. They all chuckle.

“We’re about to order the next round and you didn’t even drink any of that one yet,” Benny says as he points to the dripping bottle in Frankie’s hand.

Oh, sorry, Frankie mumbles as he pushes the now-warm bottle to his lips and begins to drink the beer down, his eyes moving back to the stage. The entire club is lit only by colored lights that coordinate with the twirling lights and lasers pointed at the stage, pulsating to the tempo of the music you’ve picked. Fog rolls across the floor of the stage, cascading over the edge.

There’s a single golden pole at an outcropping of the stage that you’re now gripping with both hands, sticking your ass out towards the audience and giving it a wiggle. You let go of the pole and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties. You slowly begin to push them down and just as the crack of your ass comes into view Frankie momentarily forgets that he can’t swallow liquid and breathe at the same time.

He begins to sputter and cough, choking on the bubbly liquid and spurting it across the table onto the faces of half of his friends. He’s met with groans, curses, and several swats to the back of his head as he attempts to get his wheezing under control, and the fluid out of his trachea.

Santi, who somehow managed to avoid Frankie’s beer-foam projectile, slaps a palm on Frankie’s shoulder and says,

“Guys, Frankie’s real sorry, he’s just never seen a naked woman before.”

The laughter at Frankie’s expense serves as some form of forgiveness, and everyone slowly goes back to flirting with the wandering dancers and ordering their second round. Santi keeps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and leans into Frankie’s personal space.

“You alright?” Santi asks, squeezing his friend’s shoulder firmly.

Frankie manages to mutter a strangled yeah before several rounds of trying to clear his throat. The lights have dimmed, sinking the club temporarily into a hazy darkness. He briefly registers that the song you were dancing to has ended, so you’ve most likely left the stage.

Santi laughs, shaking his head. He moves his mouth right to Frankie’s ear, almost whispering.

“When I convinced Will to have his bachelor party at this club I thought you’d be the one making your hot babysitter choke, not the other way around,” and he claps Frankie on the back hard, “if you know what I mean.”

Frankie’s eyes go wide as he meets Santi’s crooked grin, but his friend offers nothing more as he moves to the other side of the table, turning his devilish smile on the waitress. He orders two beers and three shots for each man, dismissing the groans of protest from the table. Bachelor Down!, he shouts at Will as everyone does their shots and chases them with cheap beer.

You approach the table full of men with seven other dancers, each of you assigned by the club to give a 20-minute private dance to one of the members of the bachelor party. You’re each in various states of dress, but most are only half-dressed. You’re back in your lacy underwear set - panties and bra - but the sheer nature of the fabric leaves little to the imagination.

Your previous job as a part-time nanny worked while you were an undergrad. When you started law school it became too much and you had to switch to more infrequent evening babysitting gigs so you had your days free for school and studying. Unable to keep up with school payments you recently had to find something new. Something that only required night and weekend availability, but paid really well.

Enter: Stripping.

You’ve only been doing this job for a little over a month but you’d quickly gotten very comfortable with being naked in front of strangers. You had your little dance routine and could easily make flirty banter with the club’s customers. Your boss was impressed enough that he’d started assigning you party gigs with some of the other girls, like this bachelor group.

You walk up to the group of strangers, the rest of the girls fan around the table as you’re left standing just behind a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap on, curls sticking out from under the back strap. You turn to the man with a big smile on your face.

Holy Fuck.

Not a Stranger.

It’s Francisco Morales. The hot dad you until-recently babysat for.

He looks at you sheepishly. Your hands immediately fly to cover your breasts, suddenly mortified that your nipples are showing through your nearly-transparent choice of outfit.

“Mr. Morales!”

“Oh I- I already,” he begins to stutter. Is he telling you that he’s already seen your tits?

You look around at the collection of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table and figure that they’ve all been here for much longer than just your dance. So covering your nipples does nothing for your modesty as hot dad has probably already seen everything. You drop your arms to your side, attempting to look relaxed and casual.

“So I-uh. I guess you found a babysitter for tonight.”

He laughs. He actually laughs at your awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Thank god. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything one of his friends is speaking to the group. He explains that “everyone gets a private dance” and no one can object - and he looks right at Mr. Morales when he says this - because “it’s all been paid for already.”

Following the lead of the other girls you gently grab Mr. Morales’ hand, missing the looks back and forth between him and his friend. You do your best to confidently lead him back to the private rooms with the rest of his group. There are a dozen rooms in the hallway and eight of them have been held in reserve for this bachelor party group. Pulling him inside the last room on the right, you close the door behind you.

The room is dim, save for the red glow of the lights. The ceiling and floor are both painted black and the three walls without the door are mirrored. Towards the left is a single high-backed black leather chair facing a brass pole that sits in the exact center of the room. On the far side of the room is a curved loveseat against the wall.

This should be easy. Not just because this is your job but because unlike any other man you’ve ever led back here, this is a man you are extremely attracted to.

This is a man you have fantasized about.

You’ve imagined his curls between your fingers when you’ve grabbed a fistful of a customer's hair, imagined that it’s his stubble scratching between your breasts when you’ve pressed them close. You’ve envisioned his wide chest as you ran your hands down their front, his massive paws in your hands as you’ve taken their sweaty palms and placed them on your rolling hips.

You’ve wished they were his thighs that you were grinding your ass onto and his erection that you all-too-frequently felt pressing into you. That should make this easy. But instead you’re super fucking nervous. Even more nervous than your first night here, when you dragged your panties down your legs and bent over, exposing your pussy lips to a packed room of strangers.

What makes you most nervous is probably that the fantasies didn’t stop in the club. It would be one thing if they were just here, serving as a comfort, self-soothing by putting a familiar face in place of a groping stranger’s face. But that’s not the truth. You’ve imagined him at home too.

In the shower, pretending your hands were his hands as you pinched and plucked at your wet nipples. Daydreaming about his weight on top of you, fucking into you, as you drove one of your toys in and out of your wet cunt.

And if you’re being perfectly honest, you can admit that it’s been going on for almost a year, since shortly after he hired you to be his babysitter. Remembering the times you’d made yourself come on his couch, hours after his kid had fallen asleep, waiting for him to return home from a night out with his friends. Your hand stuffed down the front of your pants, petting your clit to the thought of him on his knees in front of you.

You never thought you’d actually be naked in front of your fantasy-DILF. This is like being slapped in the face with your own wet dreams. This is kind of a nightmare.

“Listen, you don’t have to-” he begins just as you start to speak as well.

“Mr. Morales I know-” and you both stop and let out breathy, nervous laughs.

“C-Can you please stop calling me Mr. Morales?”

“Oh sorry! Is that weird?”

“It sounds like the start of a bad porno,” he groans, laughing again. “Please just call me Frankie.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry Mist- Frankie. Sorry. Frankie.”

You both break out in laughter again, loudly this time, hoping to finally diffuse some of the tension. A knock sounds at the door and a deep voice - security - asks if everything is alright. You shout back that everything is fine and the room quiets down.

“I should start the music and get going,” you say quietly, motioning for him to sit on the curved red velvet seat against the far wall.

You press a button above his head and music starts up, the first of three songs forming a 10-minute loop that will repeat for this booking. You look into the mirrored wall to your left and notice how nervous you look. Then you meet his eyes in the mirror. Why does he look just as nervous?

You straddle one of his legs and shakily reach back to undo the clasp on your bra. You meet his eyes again. Fuck he can see how your hands are shaking. You look like such a fucking kid. A goddamn amateur. This is going to be the least-sexy lapdance he’s ever been given.

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you suddenly feel his hot hands covering yours at your back.

“You can leave this on if you’d be more comfortable,” he says softly, barely heard over the pumping bass of the music.

“No I’m fine, I’m just…” you don’t know how to explain to him without embarrassing yourself but suddenly you’re making an admission and the word-vomit has left your mouth before you can even do anything to stop it. “I just always thought you were hot.”

There it is. It’s out there now.

He opens his mouth to say something and your nerves bubble up and come out as more words and why the fuck are you talking more?

“I know, I know,” you spit out before he can get a word in, “the babysitter thirsting after the hot dad, how prosaic, right? Talk about a bad porno.”

His warm hands still touching you, he slowly moves his fingers around yours, deftly undoing the clasp of your bra for you.

“It’s okay, I kinda… thought you were hot too,” his admission slips out in a whisper.

You really want to kiss him right now. But that would be a very bad idea. Security patrols the hallway and the door has a small window towards the top of it. It allows security to peek inside and see from the shoulders up. Usually if they can see your shoulders, all is good. If they can’t see your shoulders, it gives them an idea if rules are being broken or if the girls need help.

Kissing - among other things - is against the rules.

You barely turn to look at the windowed door but you’re embarrassed to think that Frankie must know what you’re thinking because it’s like he can read your mind. Or maybe he’s just thinking about kissing you too? Either way he puts his hands back down to his sides and lets you lean into him, allowing your bra to slowly shift down your shoulders until it falls into his lap.

Your tits are right in his face. You’re half naked in front of the hot dad whose child you used to babysit. The hot dad who you’ve pictured doing this exact thing with - and more. But he’s not even looking at your tits. He’s looking you right in your eyes and making you feel more naked than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

He shouldn’t be here, not doing this, not with you. He should ask for a different girl. He should tell the security guy to kick him out. He’s making you so uncomfortable, he can tell by your twitching movements and halting breaths. He can’t stop staring at you like he’s some kind of lonely creep, what a fucking weirdo he’s being.

You position your legs on the outside of his, keeping his legs slightly open and his hands obediently face-down on the couch next to him. You’re straddling him but hovering above his lap, seemingly careful not to touch him. When you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself you begin to stiffly roll your body towards and then away from him.

He doesn’t know where to look. He can’t keep looking at your face, he knows the eye-contact is getting very disturbing. Why the hell did he tell you he kinda thought you were hot too? At least he didn’t admit the truth, that he thought you were fucking supernova-hot. He’s had to bite his tongue countless times to stop from asking you out.

He focuses his eyes at the hollow dip that lies at the base of your throat. It has a dance of its own, moving slightly with your pulse and rolling with your shallow breaths, the rise and fall of your chest a baseline rhythm. He tries not to think about your bare breasts just below, breasts that he’s thought about putting his hands on every single time you’ve walked into his house for the last year.

He can see your deep red lips in his peripheral vision, and immediately the image of those lips on his skin is conjured. He pictures a chaste kiss planted on his cheek followed by a less-chaste thought of his thumb pressed into your mouth, your eyes looking up at him while your lips leave a red ring on his hand. He needs to fucking calm down. This is just a dance. You’re at work doing your literal job.

He suddenly notices you’ve almost completely stopped moving. He looks up at your face and you’re wearing a tight, pained expression. His brows furrow. Oh no. What’s wrong? Is his erection noticable? Is he creeping you out too badly? Do you want him to leave? He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but you silence him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me,” you squeak out in a strained whisper.

In the back of his head a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t immediately cave. It shouldn’t be this easy. Part of him thinks he should need more than just you saying that.

But he doesn’t. At all.

He slowly slides his body down the sofa, pushing his frame between your legs. You move your feet apart to accommodate his wide shoulders once you realize he won’t fit otherwise. He stops when his ass is sitting on the floor and his head is just above the seat of the sofa, you towering over him. He reaches down and begins to take off your platform heels one at a time.

As your bare feet hit the floor you run your hands up your neck, over your face, and through your hair, your knees knocking at his shoulders. Touching you gently with only two fingers on each hand, he pushes on the backs of your thighs, guiding you even closer to his face. He grabs your feet and holds them in his hands, forcing your legs to fold and pushing your knees past his ears as his head rests back on the seat.

You’re kneeling at the edge of the sofa, shins on the cushion, feet dangling over his shoulders, your toes curled in his massive hands on his chest, and his head between your thighs. Your face still looks uneasy, and he can just make out whining noises over the music. High-pitched and breathy, the way a dog would beg for scraps at the dinner table.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna touch you now,” he growls.

You grab the brim of his hat and twist it off his head, immediately diving your fingers into his locks. He squeezes your toes and you take his cue, lifting your hips and canting them towards his waiting mouth. Latching his mouth onto your underwear, he runs his tongue up and down your covered seam.

He feels you begin to rock your hips into his face, rolling your body above him. Any security who looked in the window would see your shoulders moving to the beat and assume you were kneeling on the couch and giving a lap dance. He can only barely see you from his angle, sees the lace of your panties, sees your wrists grabbing at his hair.

Letting go of one of your feet, he grabs at your wrist, dragging your hand from his head to the front of your own underwear. You run your fingers down yourself, parting them around his mouth, letting his tongue tangle in them. Then you grab the edge of the gusset and pull it to the side.

Wasting no time, he immediately begins to lick at your folds, tasting the wetness that has gathered there. A lot of wetness. Christ, you’re so fucking wet. His nose touches just below your clit and a string of your arousal attaches him to you when he pulls back slightly.

A slight pause in the music has his heart stop and his stomach in his throat. After a couple seconds - that seem to stretch on forever - the first song begins playing again, restarting what must be a looped set of music.

That must mean this private dance-time is halfway over. Ten minutes left but since you two probably started after everyone else you might not have the full ten minutes of privacy if his friends decide to burst in the door. Which, if they’re led by Santi, is a real possibility.

Less than ten minutes. No problem.

You must also feel the sense of urgency because you adjust your hand that is holding your panties to the side. You take your thumb and pointer finger and move them over yourself, parting your lips to open yourself more to him and pulling up slightly, exposing your nub. He flattens his tongue in response and drags it over your sensitive bundle, noting the way your body trembles when he does so.

He knows he doesn’t have the time to edge you as he’d like to, but he can’t help himself when he moves his head lower and twists his tongue into your hole, thrusting it into you. You are bouncing yourself slightly up and down, helping him fuck yourself on his tongue. He feels your wetness pouring over his lips and dripping down through his whiskers.

He feels your hand leave your own body and tangle back in his curls along with your other one, grabbing two fistfuls of hair tightly in your grip. Having had enough of his teasing you’re apparently deciding to take matters into your own hands.

Frankie loves eating pussy but this? This might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

He angles his head perfectly, opens his mouth, and sticks his tongue out stiffly as you begin to grind your pussy against his face. You’re using his nose, his tongue, his chin, even the bristles of his facial hair. You’re using whatever you can to get yourself off as you ride his face. It takes everything in his power not to break out in a giant smile.

He doesn’t hear you, you’re still being the quietest you’ve been since you got in this room, but he feels it. Shit, does he ever feel it. He feels your body tense, then your legs quiver, feels the pulsing in your cunt as you press yourself firm into his still-open mouth. He gently laps up your gushing orgasm as you release the grip on his hair and whimper softly above him.

Knowing you’re short on time, he has you climb off him much sooner than he’d like you to. Your heavy-lidded eyes meet his and then yours go wide. You bend down and grab his hat, plopping it back on his head and attempting to tame his just-fucked-hair back underneath it. You run to the corner of the room and grab a small robe hanging on a hook, skipping back over and roughly wiping his face off with it the way you would a toddler after a meal.

He quickly adjusts himself, tucking his protruding hardness under his belt in an attempt to conceal it as he watches you adjust your askew panties. Still topless, you throw the robe back towards the corner in a panic just as there is a quick knock at the door. Without a signal to enter the door flies open anyways, no less than three of his friends bursting through the doorway drunkenly, shots in hand for Frankie to partake in.

They make Frankie drink the shots before he even leaves the room and then they drag him away from you, hollering obnoxiously. All he can manage is an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hears the final song finally come to an end. Time’s up. Luckily you’re laughing at their antics and don’t seem to be upset. Maybe you were just flirting with him because that’s your job. Maybe you just wanted a good tip.

A tip! Shit.

Being dragged down the hallway Frankie grabs Santi by the arm and asks in his ear how much he should tip you. Santi says he usually tips $200. Frankie is shocked that a 20 minute dance would garner that big of a tip, but then again it’s been a long time since he’s been at a place like this. And to be fair, you - albeit unknowingly - let him fulfill a long-time fantasy of his.

$200 is more than he would have paid you to watch his kid tonight. No wonder you’re not his babysitter anymore. He fishes around in his wallet and takes out all the cash he has, $236. He manages to break off from the group of guys after they do another couple shots and he looks around for you.

Unable to find you he spots one of the girls you came to the table with and she lets him know you’re on a break but she can get the tip to you. He hands her the folded bills and she thanks him by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back from him she widens her eyes at him and flashes him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure she’s very appreciative… of the tip,” she winks.

Frankie tries not to blush and resists the urge to high-tail it to the bathroom and wash his face off, opting instead to keep the scent of you on him. He returns to the table of his too-drunk-to-notice friends and finishes out the night of revelry.

3:03am

Hey

3:06am

Sorry

3:09am

You’re probably asleep

3:10am

I’m just getting home actually

3:11am

Oh cool me too

Sorry to bother

I just wanted to make sure you got your tip

I left it with your friend

3:14am

I did, yes. Thank you so much.

3:14am

Cool 👍

3:16am

Don’t take this the wrong way…

But how drunk were you tonight?

3:18am

Idk

Why?

What did I do?

I’m so sorry

3:19am

No, don’t be sorry!

I’m not trying to be rude.

I just….

Did you mean to tip me that amount?

3:25am

Oh my god

Was it not enough?

I can give you more

I’m really sorry

Do you have Venmo?

3:27am

No! OMG. It was plenty!

Literally the most I’ve ever been tipped is like 40%

You tipped me 118%

3:30am

3:31am

Yeah so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get too drunk

And accidentally just give me everything in your wallet

3:35am

Is that what happened?

3:37am

Because I can Venmo some money back to you

It’s really not a problem

3:40am

Sorry no

I just tipped what my friend told me to

3:41am

Well I checked with the other girls….

NONE of your friends tipped that much

And they were all very generous!

3:44am

But none as generous as you

3:45am

He’s such an asshole

I’m sorry

I didn’t know

I feel like an idiot

3:46am

Again, please don’t be sorry

It was VERY generous of you

And I’m very grateful

3:50am

I was in a giving mood tonight I suppose

3:51am

Mr. Morales, is that you being flirty?

3:53am

Oh we’re back to Mr. Morales now?

3:55am

Can you get a babysitter on Wednesday night?

3:55am

I don’t have custody this week so no babysitter needed

Why?

3:56am

We should go out to dinner

3:57am

Oh we should?

3:59am

Yeah we should

Frankie

4:01am

MY treat

4:01am

LOL I should hope so!

4:02am

Pick me up at 7 😉

4:02am

I will

See you Wednesday

#frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #writing prompt

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clairewritesjjkxreader · 5 months

Text

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) scenario: Heian era childhood

Request by @serendipitylovescat

A/N: This is a possible origin story for Sukuna and Y/N in this onee-chan au, but I haven’t made up my mind as to how the two met and what their lives were like in the early days. Much like with the Joker’s multiple choice past, it’s the mystery that keeps on giving. Anyway, HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE.

Trigger warning: child abuse, bullying, violence, swearing

Ryomen Sukuna. Two-faced Sukuna. Bastard. Murderer. Halfling. Demon.

Normally, parents give extra thought when naming their children. For a lot of boys, they’re usually named based on desired traits like “strong” or “powerful.” But for this son, his father snidely called him “two-faced” and the name stuck.

Like every baby when they are born, Sukuna arrived in this world covered in blood and weeping. The other villagers could only think of the worst outcome for his mother. After all, so many young wives who were healthier than she died during labor, so it was only normal to expect the stick-thin woman to pass on.

But for better or worse, she survived.

A smooth delivery would normally be a thing of celebration, a living mother and her plump baby were supposed to be a blessing. For Sukuna’s parents, such a thing was a curse.

Born with four arms and four eyes and suspiciously symmetrical birthmarks, such an abomination could only be a curse.

His father suspected his wife of seducing a yōkai, he became a drunk and beat his wife daily, unwilling to even look at the thing that she claimed to be his own son. The other villagers believed that he ate his twin inside their mother and was punished by the gods.

No one knew the truth, not even the child himself.

One thing they could all agree on was this: Sukuna was a monster.

He was a monster who pushed his father into doing bad things. He was a monster who caused his mother shame and suffering, as she loved to remind him every single day.

Sukuna leaned on the tree, watching as the other kids in their little village played tag. His stomach growled but he could only ignore it. If he returned home to eat, his mother would yell at him. He only ate when she was asleep or beaten into unconsciousness by his father.

“Found you.”

Sukuna looked up and beamed. That’s right, everyone except one person hated him.

Unlike him, you were normal as far as his eyes could see, but you didn’t like staying in your house and you didn’t talk about your family. Neither of you liked anything or anyone in this village, only each other.

“Onigiri with fatty tuna I caught this morning,” you said, sitting next to him.

Sukuna voraciously bit into the rice and fish, savoring every moment with gratitude. “You’re the best cook I know.”

“Tell me if you want some tea. I managed to sneak some out.”

“Thanks–” his grin faded when he spotted familiar black and blue spots on your inner arm. They were the same bruises his mother had when she tried to block her husband’s hands.

“Who did this?” He asked, his three free hands grabbing your wrist.

“Ryo-chan,” you said his nickname–you were the only one who was never afraid of saying his name–“you’re hurting me.”

“S-sorry.” He pulled away two hands and softened the grip on the remaining one. He gently rotated your arm to get a better look. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You grinned. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Did you—”

“Hey, Ryo-chan…” You shook off his grasp, causing him to frown, but you quickly intertwined your fingers together, making him blush. “If I told you I plan to run away, will you come with me?”

He almost dropped the onigiri.

Your smile became sad. “I… You’re the only one I will ever miss. I don’t like this place.”

He put his remaining hands over your connected fingers and he blurted out, “Yes!”

You blinked, wide-eyed.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “I-I mean, yes, let’s go.”

Your face brightened and he smiled back.

That’s right. Even if this damned village burned to the ground, as long as your hand never let go of his then nothing else mattered.

Additional headcanons for this scenario:

Sukuna’s dad never hit him because deep inside the man was actually afraid. So he took out his frustrations on his wife, who in turn, blames her misfortune on her son.

Speaking of Sukuna’s mother, she was a vain beauty, the most gorgeous in their village during her prime, and was distraught when her appearance faded due to malnutrition during her pregnancy. The entire time, she silently prayed that the baby would die early so she could recover quickly. So in addition to her husband’s mistreatment of her, the loss of her looks has made her resent her son.

The other village kids didn’t like Sukuna because he gave off a “disgusting energy” (or “bad vibes” as today’s lingo would call it). Some avoided him but others went out of their way to gang up on him, beating him up and stealing whatever he carried, be it food or toys from you.

Sukuna didn’t fight back because he truly believed that he deserved every bad thing that happened to him. That being said, he allowed himself one selfish choice and accepted your company, enjoying your friendship. The only warmth in his otherwise dead existence.

The first time Sukuna resorted to violence was…it was a few days after your proposal. It was a few minutes before day break and he caught the other kids holding your head down a nearby pond. He didn’t know what he did, only what happened after: you were crying into his chest, hugging and thanking him despite the blood all over him.

After washing himself, he walked you home, hair and clothes still wet from the pond, your mother was the first person to see you. Instead of concern or worry, she slapped you across the face in front of everyone before dragging you away by the hair.

Because it was your mother, he could only watch on, until your eyes met and you whimpered his name.

That night, a little village with no more than fifty people, burned to the ground as two children watched hand in hand.

A/N: Speaking of multiple choice past; in JJK (and sadly, even in real life parts of the world), twins are considered bad luck. What if Sukuna didn’t consume his twin in utero and they both survived? What if both fell for Y/N? What if the current Sukuna killed and ate his own brother because he wanted to, in his own sick way, combine himself and his twin into one being so that Y/N wouldn’t have to choose?? Hot damn. The perfect yandere love triangle. But what a pain that would be to write without illustration LOLOLOL.

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumanii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @boba–12

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jungkookschin · 3 months

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demigod trials: our starlit bond - love you from tartarus | 3.5

synopsis: mark lee, the clumsy t.a for forging foundations: introduction to the forge, takes you on a magical pegasus ride, and you fall in love.

word count: 3k

pairing: son of hephaestus!mark x daughter of aphrodite!reader

genre: camp half blood au, percy jackson au, demigod au, friends to lovers, mark is so cute and clumsyyy

warnings: SO WHOLESOMEE, mentions of death, mentions of mark going into tartarus- this is just love, angst bc he's going to be leaving. this is definitely a whole new oc

author's note: THIS IS A WHOLE NEW OC. this is still canon to the original series, but i wanted to give a closer perspective of mark and the other characters. YES THIS IS THE SAME MARK who is the little brother of oc from the previous chapters. the next chapter will be a sonofposeidon!taehyung fic. also this was supposed to be a drabble but its kinda long

demigod trials masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

At the age of 14, you discovered a life-altering truth: your mother did not pass away during childbirth, as you had been led to believe. Instead, you learned that she is none other than the Greek goddess Aphrodite.

For the average Camp Half-Blood attendee, 14 years old is fairly late to learn about one’s Greek origins.

The gods promised that they would reveal themselves to their demigod children by age 13, but you guess your mom didn’t get the memo.

Joining Camp Half-Blood the summer after your freshman year in high school came along with significant drawbacks.

You weren’t good at combat, weren’t good at strategy, and you certainly weren’t favored by the other campers.

In fact, you were disliked so much that your own siblings actively avoided you, scooting towards the far end of the Aphrodite table whenever you sat down with your magical lunch platter.

During the first two months at Camp Half-Blood, a melancholic reality enveloped you. You sought refuge by sticking your nose in a book and studying your hours away. You wouldn’t even consider yourself to be a good student, but it became a way to make amends for sucking at everything else.

You remember meeting Mark Lee during the first day of your third month at Camp Half-Blood.

It was your first day of Forging Foundations: Intro to the Forge. To your surprise, a cyclops marched into the classroom, accidentally knocking over tables and side swiping papers off the teacher’s desk.

In Greek mythology, Cyclopes are one-eyed giants, often associated with strength and craftsmanship. They are known for their forging skills and are credited with creating powerful items for gods and heroes.

Though your teacher Argos was barely proficient in the English language, he certainly knew what he was talking about.

“Um- h-hello c-class! Welcome to Forging class! You introductory class, correct?” Argos asks, his voice deep and gruff- but it was obvious enough that Argos was a gentle giant.

None of the other Aphrodite kids even graced Argos with a response, filing their nails or checking their reflections in a mirror.

You cleared your throat. “Yes sir,” you responded, offering Argos a warm smile. His large mouth grinned, displaying his yellow and crooked teeth and his single eye softened at you, beaming that somebody actually responded to him.

“Good!” Argos responded, straightening a stack of papers on the desk. Unfortunately, the teacher’s desk snapped in half, causing Argos to blush and his single eye to dart around the room nervously.

“So, your daddy is Hermes?” Argos asked, to which some of your siblings actually sneered.

One of your sisters scoffed. “Our mother is Aphrodite. Maybe you should get your eyes- err- or eye checked out,” to which some of your other siblings burst into cackles.

Gods, you remember feeling so horrible for poor Argos, who immediately apologized clumsily, tears welling up in his single eye.

On cue, a boy burst into the classroom, panting heavily with his hands tightly secure around his backpack straps. He was wearing jeans, converse, and a Camp Half-Blood T shirt over a white long sleeved tee. His black fringe fell into his eyes and he flicked his head back to clear his vision.

"Sorry I was late!" he panted, resting his hands on his knees. "I was in the forge and got so caught up with something I didn't even realize I was late!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening slightly when he saw poor Argos tearing up.

"Hey big guy, something wrong?" he asked gently, brows furrowing in concern.

Argos, despite being twice as big as the boy, crushed him in a hug, and the boy's face turned red from how hard he was being squeezed.

By the gods' grace, he found it in him to pat Argos on the back while reassuring him that everything would be okay.

Argos stopped crushing the boy and redirected his attention to the class, to which the boy almost theatrically inhaled to catch his breath after almost being crushed to death.

"This is Mark!" Argos announced. "He is teacher's helper!"

Mark nodded and greeted the class. "That's right. I am the official TA, or teacher's assistant, for this class. If you don’t know me, I’m the head counselor at the Hephaestus cabin. It’s nice to meet you all." He smiled at the entire class, but for some reason, you felt shy when his eyes momentarily lingered on you, and you looked away.

"Mark gonna help me!" Argos grinned. "Argos is so happy Mark here!"

Mark smiled. “That means a lot big guy. I’ll be there whenever you need me, alright?”

He then addressed the class. “So let’s get started with Lesson 1: Fundamental Tools of Blacksmithing. If everybody could come up to the class to pick up their notes, that would be great.”

Needless to say, the Aphrodite cabin did not give a single shit that Mark was leading the class, even though he was a slightly better teacher than Argos. Nobody said anything, their eyes still focused on their nails or mirrors.

Mark fished for something from his backpack: a hammer. He held it up, motioning with his hammer and occasionally pointing it at the class.“You guys might be Aphrodite kids, but I promise blacksmithing is super easy and fun. This class is going to be a blast.”

Your siblings clearly didn't agree, but you figured that you needed to show some sort of enthusiasm. So, whenever Mark met your eyes, you nodded like you were super engaged.

Gods, you thought Mark was the cutest boy you had ever seen. So cutely clumsy, and you couldn't help but giggle at his little mistakes.

“Oh shit, I’m still holding this,” he mumbled, making you giggle. His eyes met yours, and he crimsoned before he cleared his throat.

“"So," he began, "does anyone know what this is?" he asked, motioning towards the hammer.

Crickets.

You raised your hand. "Umm... is it a hammer?" you sheepishly responded, to which Mark beamed and nodded his head.

"That's right," he encouraged, his eyes scanning over your name tag. "Y/N," he finished, flashing you a grin.

“This is your trusty companion, the hammer. Grip it firmly, but not too tight. Precision is key in our craft. Watch closely as I shape this piece of celestial bronze. Every strike has purpose, every movement deliberate.”

Argos passed out hammers to the class, nearly knocking kids over to their displeasure.

That day, you learned all the basic safety rules and how to strike armor against an anvil to shape metal.

For the entire class, you were the only one who engaged, and it almost felt like you and Mark were one-on-one. You didn't have a problem with that.

After class, Mark approached you, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck. “Hey, thanks for responding and whatnot,” he expressed, “The Aphrodite kids don’t seem to like this class that much.”

“Yes, thank you! You are sweet and pretty girl. Very nice. Happy to have you!” Argos added.

You shyly smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I actually find forging to be very interesting. I’m not good at combat or anything so I kinda do better in the forge.”

Mark nodded, “I can see that. You do seem pretty knowledgable- at least about the tools and stuff.”

“For knowing what a hammer is?” you giggled, making Mark’s ears turned red as he stuttered out a response.

“W-well yea. At least you answered. Maybe the others didn’t say anything because they didn’t know what a hammer was,” he reasoned.

Argos nodded in concurrence. “That could be the case.”

With Dumb and Dumber in front of you, you laughed, to which Mark reddens.

“Wh-what’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you smiled, shaking your head.

Forging Foundations: Intro to the Forge marked the inception of yours and Mark's love story.

Looking back, you realize that you had definitely fallen for him the moment he clumsily burst through the classroom doors.

On the last day of class, Mark and Argos congratulated you for being the only student to get an A in the class, and Argos offered to treat you to a meal in the mortal world.

Funnily enough, Argos forgot about your plans, leaving you and Mark to awkwardly greet each other by the barriers of the camp.

Mark was adorned with a light blue button-up, slacks, and dress shoes. He had a celestial bronze watch on his wrist, occasionally checking the time and looking out for Argos's arrival.

You approached him from behind, gingerly tapping him on the shoulder. When he turned around, he appeared to be completely awestruck.

That night, you decided to wear a long satin red dress that hugged your body in all the right places. You did your makeup and actually got one of your siblings to do your hair.

Your hair was curled in voluminous curls, and you pursed your lips once more to ensure that your red lipstick was still evenly applied.

Mark couldn't seem to control his reaction because his jaw physically dropped.

“Do I look bad?”

Mark’s eyes widened. “No- not at all. Y-you’re gorgeous Y/N, truly.”

You softened, instantly enveloping him in a hug—one that he reciprocated by holding you tightly, seemingly never wanting to let you go.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Mark deadpanned “I don’t think the big guy is gonna show up.”

“I don’t think so either. So what should we do? We both got ready for dinner,” you pout.

Mark bit his lip, gathering his thoughts before a lightbulb appeared over his head.

“Wanna go for a pegasus ride?”

Your lips parted. “Wait, are we allowed to? Chiron said no more pegasus rides after Jaemin crashed into the Big House.”

A smile graced his lips, and he shook his head in at the antics of his friends. “Yea, but it’s whatever. I’m an experienced rider. You won’t crash if you’re with me.”

With that, he offered his hand and you both ran off to the Pegasus stables .

The sun had set below the horizon, staining the sky with hues of orange, red, and pink. The sky was beautiful, and it was a perfect night.

Together, you and Mark made your way to the stables, where a few winged horses grazed under the fading daylight. Among them stood a magnificent Pegasus, its wings shimmering in the twilight.

The Pegasus, a sleek silver-winged beauty named Zephyr, had nuzzled against Mark affectionately. "This is Zephyr," Mark explained, his palms caressing Zephyr's gorgeous mane.

“He’s so… pretty,” you expressed in awe to which Zephyr neighed, snuggling his snout into your side.

Mark tilted his head, “I don’t speak horse but I think he says you’re prettier.”

“Oh shut up,” you mused, to which Mark laughs, “I’m serious Y/N-“

And you thought he was going to tell you how beautiful you are, but instead he said “I really think Zephyr said that.”

You couldn’t help but smile, swatting at his bicep. Mark held your hand as you mounted Zephyr before he slid behind you, holding the reins from behind you as Zephyr took off.

As you ascended into the evening sky, the world below transformed into a patchwork of twinkling lights. The camp, nestled between hills and forests, appeared even more enchanting from above. You and Mark marveled at the serene lake, the training grounds, and the cabins bathed in moonlight.

Zephyr soared higher, catching the cool breeze that whispered through the treetops. Laughter merged with the wind's gentle melody as you and Mark ventured beyond the camp's borders, exploring the surrounding landscapes.

You were sure that your perfectly curled hair was ruined from the wind violently thrashing it, but you didn't care.

Mark used the reins to direct Zephyr to ascend before rapidly descending, and you couldn't help but scream and laugh because you felt like you were on a roller coaster.

Mark scooted closer, pressing his chest directly against your back as he secured the reins. "Ready for this?" he yelled over the winds before Zephyr did an actual loop in the sky.

You screamed before bursting into laughter. "Mark!"

His laughter echoed as clear as ever.

The moon reached its zenith, casting a soft, silvery glow on Zephyr. You and Mark exchanged exhilarated glances, sharing stories, dreams, and laughter against the backdrop of the starlit sky.

Mark finally decided to stop treating Zephyr like a rollercoaster, and you both tread peacefully amongst the stars.

As you soared through the night sky, Mark shared the story of a defining moment from his childhood, recounting how he acquired a scar on his cheek. It happened during a time when he was still learning the basics of blacksmithing, and he cut himself with the back of a hammer when he swung it too closely to his face.

He also tells you stories about his older sister. She had embarked on a perilous journey into Tartarus, the treacherous abyss, and actually survived. Tragically, she sacrificed herself by immolating both herself and Gaia, an evil primordial goddess, to death.

In return, you shared how you had struggled to assimilate into Camp Half-Blood. A soft, almost bitter smile graced your lips as you recounted, "My siblings— they kinda avoided me, so I gave up on talking to them," you responded.

You delved into the emotional weight of feeling isolated, the subtle but hurtful distance from your siblings

You couldn't see Mark's face, but you could imagine he was sporting his usual look of concern and worry.

He paused, collecting his thoughts before he responded. "Do you think—could it be like—that they were jealous of your beauty?"

At his ridiculous comment, you actually burst into laughter, and Mark thought that the sweet sounds of your laughter were prettier than the stars and the moon.

"I wish," you giggled, "I wish I had those main character vibes, but it’s just because they don’t like me. And that’s fine."

Mark softened, "That’s alright, Y/N. You have me and Argos. We’re your friends."

You smiled before a thought dawned on you, "But what if I didn't want you to be a friend?"

“Are you mad that Argos forgot about our dinner reservations?”

“No!” you expressed, “Gods no. Mark, I like you more than a friend. I want to be more than friends.”

As Zephyr began its descent, gently landing on the ground, you wished you could see Mark's face. Perhaps it was a good thing you couldn't, as the lack of visual cues allowed you to summon the courage to confess your feelings.

Mark dismounted from the Pegasus, and in a moment that felt like the culmination of shared laughter, stories, and dreams beneath the starlit sky, he kissed you.

With that kiss, the uncharted territory of romance unfolded, and that night, Mark officially became your boyfriend. The stars above bore witness to the inception of a new chapter, marked by the shared warmth and affection that had blossomed amidst the celestial tapestry.

You and Mark are a happy couple. You keep things to yourselves- really the only person who even knows about your relationship is Argos.

In a humorous turn of events, Argos unexpectedly walked in on you and Mark sharing a kiss by the Pegasus stables. The moonlit rendezvous had created an intimate atmosphere, and the two of you were lost in the moment. However, the serenity was abruptly interrupted as Argos stumbled upon the scene.

Profusely apologizing for the intrusion and seemingly flustered, Argos apologized for forgetting dinner reservations. However, his words were cut short as he gasped, realizing the nature of the situation.

“You- you and Mark are … dating?”

There's no room for conflicts; if something bothers either of you, a simple conversation resolves it.

That is, until he tells you that he’s willingly going to sacrifice himself to Tartatrus.

You both are in the 18+ Hephaestus cabin resting on his king sized bed, and you almost think he’s joking until you really get a good look at his face.

“So you’re serious,” you deadpan.

He nods, “I am. I can’t let my older sister be sacrificed to a dangerous primordial God,” he reasons.

You bitterly nod, not being able to contest that. Mark’s older sister is one of the most well known demigods within Camp Half-Blood. She actually died and came back to life with the Physician's Cure- so you completely understand that Mark doesn’t want to endanger her life again.

“Okay, then I’m coming with you,” you bluntly respond, arms crossing as you glare daggers into Mark

“No.”

This is likely the first time where Mark has ever refused you, and you feel on the verge of tears.

"Mark, you run the risk of dying. What if—what if I never see you again?" you ask breathlessly, your voice carrying a hint of worry and vulnerability. In response, his expression softens.

He approaches you, his movements gentle, and pulls you into a comforting hug. "I don't know, Y/N. I might face that risk, but if I do—then it's for a good cause."

Tears begin streaming down your face and onto Mark’s sweater. As they fall onto Mark's sweater, you voice the overwhelming fear that has taken root in your heart. "Mark, you can't. I can't live without you. I need you here."

He sighs, holding you more tightly. “I’m prepared. Baby- I’m strong. Nothing’s going to happen to me-”

“You have to promise me Mark. You have to promise me that nothing is going to happen,” you sob.

Holding you more tightly, he attempts to provide solace amidst the uncertainty. "I'm prepared. I've done all I can to ensure survival, but I can't make any promises."

You hold him as you cry into his neck. Gods, you’re going to miss Mark so much. The thought of being without him is nearly unfathomable and a tremor runs through your body.

An alarm goes off on his celestial bronze watch.

Mark sighs, a look of urgency enveloping his features, “Babe, I have to go now- but meet me tonight by the portal to Camp Jupiter.” He hurriedly pulls away, gathering his belongings into a backpack.

He pulls you in for one last kiss before escaping through the stairs and out of the cabin.

You follow Mark's instructions diligently, patiently waiting by the portal to Camp Jupiter. As your eyes scan the familiar faces, you spot Mark's older sister and her friends approaching. Recognizing Taehyung, Namjoon, Rose, Jungkook, and Mark's sister among the group, you brace yourself for their arrival.

Mark's older sister beams at you as she recognizes you, immediately pulling you into an unexpected and warm hug. The surprise is evident on your face, realizing that Mark had shared the news of your relationship with his sister. While you hadn't anticipated this revelation, you don't harbor any objections.

"Hello?" you manage to greet.

"Y/N," she responds with a smile, "It's me—Rose. Can you turn off the mist for a second?" With a snap of Rose's fingers, the appearance of Mark's sister morphs into none other than your boyfriend.

A breath catches in your throat, and you're left breathless as Mark shakes his head, enveloping you in a reassuring hug. "It'll be alright. My sister's safe, and you're safe too. Everything will be okay," he whispers into your hair.

Taking a moment to process the unexpected revelation, you sigh and pull back. It dawns on you that this might be the perfect time to make your relationship public. You lean in and kiss Mark passionately and ardently,

“You got this, sweet boy. I believe in you,” you express pulling back from Mark who appears dazed and starstruck.

He reddens, knowing that the other demigods are staring right at you and him, but you don’t care. You press another chaste kiss to his lips.

Collecting himself, Mark takes a moment to share crucial information. "Y/N, look. My sister and I manufactured these rings that'll keep you updated with everything that's happening to Jungwon and me. Just go to Bunker 9, and you'll get live updates of everything that's happening," he explains, holding up his finger to showcase the ring.

As he holds the ring for you to see, you can't help but marvel at the intricate craftsmanship. The significance of the piece becomes apparent — a tangible connection to Mark, a lifeline to stay informed about the events unfolding in their Tartarus.

You hear a voice from behind, “Does your sister know that you told your girlfriend about Bunker 9?”

Mark ignores it and hugs you one last time.

“I love you, sweet girl. You’ll be with me the entire time.” He lifts up the locket you gifted him for your first-year anniversary, a delicate piece adorned with your image within its bearings.

And with that, Mark transforms back into the image of his older sister and walks into the portal to Camp Jupiter.

#nct scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream #mark lee #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark lee scenarios #nct drabbles #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 fluff #nct angst #nct dream scenarios #mark lee fanfic #camp half blood au #demigod!nct #demigod!nct127 #demigod!nct dream

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

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𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋

Satoru Gojo

Part II

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed for eternity, Satoru Gojo finds a way to pass time, and you catch his eye. You don't have any plans with each other, other than meaningless sex until you find that he's your new boss. You're a reminder of the past but also hope for his future.

After all, Satoru Gojo finds himself vulnerable whenever he's around you and your family.

Warnings: Smut, Bathroom Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, One night stand, Immortality, Single Parent Reader (More in the next parts)

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Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

Satoru can barely remember his life before he was cursed. It’s all a mist to him. Of course, that was hundreds of years ago, and while his memory is great, there has to be limits. He wonders if he was happy then.

Truth is, Satoru doesn’t really know what happiness is. He looks back at moments in his life and wonders if that was happiness. He doesn’t know what happiness is meant to be, yet he knows he’s supposed to look for it. And he does. He looks for it endlessly, and it’s made him tired.

He got married once, maybe two hundred years ago. He remembers kissing her lips, hoping that something would change at that moment. But nothing happened. The empty feeling inside of his body lingered, and he doubted that he’d ever feel fulfilled.

At a moment in his life, he thought that having a kid would lead him to happiness, but each time, the start of the twentieth week came, the woman died. It’s not possible for him to have a kid of his own blood, which he’s come to accept. He does wonder daily if having a child would’ve filled that void.

Money, power, property, beautiful women. He has all a man could ever want. Yet he isn’t happy. He wonders how the average man is happy with just that. Maybe that empty feeling inside of him is happiness. Although he isn’t so sure.

“Let’s go back to my place.” He whispers into some blonde’s ear, a woman he’s never had a conversation with before. He has the looks any woman would fall for, so he doesn’t bother talking to them. He sends them a drink or two, then offers to go back to his place. Or hotel room. Depends on where he’s at. She doesn’t even bother asking for his name before standing up and following him.

It’s a nightly routine. He doesn’t care to work overnight. He has an empire that he has an entire lifetime to rebuild in case it falls. He doesn’t rush out the door when he’s late for work– He is the boss. No one can fire him.

Sex is the only bit of pleasure life gives him. So he’ll take it, even if he puts everything he’s worked moderately hard for in at least the past hundred years.

But tonight he sits at the bar, sipping on his drink, not looking for anything else. He doesn’t want anything else tonight. The bartender looks pretty, but he really doesn’t have the energy to wait for her shift to be over.

“A martini, please.” Your voice catches his attention, and he looks away from his drink and at you. He stares at you, but you’re not paying attention to him. Your voice is so familiar, but he doesn’t know where he’s heard it before. He’s heard so many different voices in his lifetime, it’s so hard to distinguish them and remember which voice belongs to who.

But for some reason you remind him of the past– Maybe the voice is from someone that he met hundreds of years ago. It doesn’t really matter anyway, because you’re right in front of him, and he has to say you’re stunning. Way better than the bartender he was thinking about just a few seconds ago.

Maybe he’ll decide to do more than just drink tonight. He’ll wait a bit, buy you a martini then ask you to accompany him for the night. You end up walking away when you get your drink, as expected, but you go to someone else. You aren’t alone, which might ruin Satoru’s plans.

You’re with a man, which confirms that his plans are ruined, but he still decides to stick around and wait. He has nothing better to do at home anyway, so he’ll see how your date plays out.

He has nothing to do, really, so he watches your date progress. As creepy as it makes him sound. Satoru really doesn’t care how he’s perceived by others. If you think he’s creepy, then that’s your loss.

Some time passes, and you’re heading to the exit of the place on your own. It prompts him to stand up and walk out of the place as well. His plan has to slightly change since he can’t just bring the drink outside for you. He’ll pretend to have a cigarette or something and casually bump into you. He hopes that tonight you’ve chosen to take a cab.

He steps outside and he spots you immediately, looking down at your phone. You’re texting someone, at least he assumes by the constant motion of your thumbs. He reaches inside his pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes. He opens the box before he approaches you.

“Want a cigarette?” He offers, and you look up from your phone to look at the man in front of you. He’s tall, wears a suit, and has a distinguishable hair color as well as eye color. You immediately recognize him as the man that was sitting by the bar.

“I don’t smoke, thank you.” You respond, and you watch him take out a cigarette out of the box. He doesn’t move, and doesn’t seem like he will. So while you wait for your cab, you make a comment, “That’s like killing yourself slowly.”

“Really? I hope so.” The stick of tobacco is in between his lips, and he pulls out a lighter. He lights up the cigarette, and takes a long drag from it. The smoke comes out from his nose before he asks, “Are you here alone?”

“I–” You begin. He’s attractive but you have no idea who he is. You don’t know his intentions and for your safety, it’s best to tell him you’re not alone. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Can I wait with you?” He questions and you shrug.

“Knock yourself out.” You answer. You aren’t sure what he wants from you. He doesn’t make any moves on you, so he clearly doesn’t want to take you home or anything like that. Or maybe he just sucks at flirting. Either way, you can’t tell so you won’t do anything. You have to go home.

“Are you here with a friend or with a date?” The man asks.

“What’s your name?” You reply. You want to at least know his name before you answer any questions.

“I’m Satoru.” He ends up answering with his first name since his last name is well known around. He doesn’t want to risk you asking any questions that are too personal.

“Any last name?” You question and he ends up shaking his head. “Well, Satoru no last name, what do you need from me? Don’t waste my time.”

“You should know what I want.” He responds, making you chuckle. You raise a brow.

“You haven’t even tried to make a move.” You point out, which he realizes. He hasn’t had to actually make a move in decades. “Plus, I don’t know your full name and we just met. If I’m following you anywhere is the bathroom in this place.”

“Then let’s go there.” Satoru suggests, and you chuckle.

“You haven’t even asked my name.” You click your tongue in disappointment while you begin to walk back into the place. He chuckles as he begins to walk behind you. He walks much slower so it’s not so obvious that he’s following behind you to go to the bathroom.

You get to the women’s bathroom and begin to check your makeup while you wait for Satoru to walk in. It’s just a quick fuck since your date went so terribly. Satoru walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He turns you around and kisses your lips. His tongue enters your mouth while his hands wander around your body.

And he has yet to ask for your name. You don’t really think about it. The only thought that goes through your mind is that you have to make this fast. And also how his hands feel so large as they roam all over your body. You pull away from the kiss.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” He asks as he turns you around and bends you over the sink. You’re trying to not listen to what he says because he probably says it to every woman he’s with. You just want to have sex with someone and then go back home.

You feel his long fingers run over your clothed cunt, teasing you in just the right spot. His lips go down to your ear, “You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.” You respond. You answer to please him and make him start faster. You wouldn’t have come to the bathroom for no other reason. He pushes your panties to the side and you feel two of his large fingers run through your folds.

“You’re so wet.” He comments. He slips a finger into your cunt, making a soft moan escape your lips. His finger feels so thick and long. He quickly slips another finger in and begins to move them in and out of your cunt.

He’s either doing this to prepare you or because his dick isn’t that big of a deal. Either way you appreciate feeling his long fingers. He curves them just right which makes the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot repeatedly.

You look at him through the mirror that’s over the sink, and he looks back at you. God, he’s so fucking hot. He takes his fingers out of your cunt and brings his fingers to your mouth. You open your mouth and take his fingers in. You lick them clean while his free hand unzips his pants. He takes his fingers out of your mouth.

“Hurry up.” You tell him, since you don’t have much time left. You feel the tip of his cock run through your folds. His cock slowly enters your cunt, and it’s definitely more than what you expected. “Oh–”

He bottoms out and gives you a moment to adjust to his size before moving. He can tell by the face that you make through the mirror that you’re not used to his size. When he begins to move, you’re loud. Too loud. His hand has to go over your mouth to muffle your moans.

Satoru does groan at the feeling of your pussy, but he’s not as loud as you are. Your cunt is so nice and warm, it’s hard for him not to groan. He’ll surely remember you after this because you just feel so good around him. You have a pretty face, a familiar voice and a nice little pussy. He’ll surely remember you.

“You feel so good.” He says. It’s not the first time this has happened in the women’s restroom, but this is certainly his favorite time. And you have done nothing for him. Other times people go out of their way to please him. “Pretty little thing with a tight pussy.”

You can’t say anything with his hand over your face. But he can feel you enjoying it. Your cunt tightening around him by the second as your orgasm approaches. His cock hits all the right spots. Dick so big, and he knows how to use it.

You’d be moaning his name if your mouth wasn’t covered. He doesn’t deserve to hear his name anyway. You look at each other through the mirror, and he has a smug look on his face as he feels your cunt tighten around him.

When you reach your orgasm, he says, “What a good girl, coming all over my cock.”

You want to tell him to shut up, but his dick inside of you wouldn’t allow you to say much if you could speak. You notice how his thrusts get sloppy and he gets louder and louder. You’re about to bite his hand to tell him to pull out, but just when you’re about to, you feel his cum fill up your pussy.

He finally removes his hand from your mouth when he pulls his cock out, and you straighten yourself. You can’t exactly be mad at him for not pulling out. You should’ve told him sooner.

“Satoru…” You say his name, looking up at him. He takes a moment to look down at you. He swears he’s seen you before. “I hope we never cross paths again, Satoru.”

“I hope so too.” He replies, although it’s the first time he hears someone say that. He wonders why you’re saying that. He hasn’t done anything to you that he knows of. He knows why he doesn’t want to see you again, but he wonders why you don’t want to see him again.

You both leave the bathroom. You’re satisfied, and he’s confused. You’re both set on never seeing each other again. But that’s the funny thing about life. Just like Satoru was cursed with eternal life, you’re cursed with Satoru.

And a couple of days later when you meet your new boss, you’re astonished. You expected some grumpy old man, but when you walked into the office, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Seeing the same stranger you hooked up with a couple of days ago.

“Are you Mr. Gojo?” You question, and he hums in response. You have to keep yourself composed. He speaks before you can say anything else,

“So you’re the new secretary.”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @dearsunaa @mykyoon @tojidilfs @b3ast1706 @crispmarshmallow @levismainbabe @matchabluebeiry-for-nanami @nobody289x @galactict3a @nothisispatrick300 @tojianddabisslut @katsuwhore @septembersums @tamaki-jiki @thisbicc @rumi-rants @chloee0x0 @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @dakumarauder @lovemarvel16 @lilithlunas @sarcasticallydrowning

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x you #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru

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myojinn · 29 days

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Unveil Me - Sukuna Ryomen

☁︎ Unveil Me ... Multi-chapter fanfic Secret Agent!Sukuna Ryomen (JJK) x Secret Agent!AFAB Reader ☁︎ Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, secret agent! au, fluff, action : tw - lots of swearing and mentions of violence

☁︎ Summary: It’s basic Agent 101 not to trust anyone else. You know that and that’s why you always work alone. But what happens when another agent proposes a truce? You agree… but only if there are no strings attached. Can you both keep a promise? ☁︎ a/n: I’ve had this fic idea for a long time already and I finally got to do it. If this series flops then…oh well. Gonna stick to the one shots then T-T : 4k+ words // minors do not interact plz

Chapter 01 ; Words of Trust

Words went in one ear and out the other.

Do they ever just… shut the fuck up?

You thought this meeting would go along without a hitch. But, oh, you were so wrong. You can’t have nice things in this fucking place. These morons made sure of that. Said morons were your fellow agents—people who should be supporting you. But rather than lifting you up, it’s like their life’s purpose to shit on you, especially in front of your boss.

Truth be told, you expected it anyway. After all, you’re a woman in a male dominated field. Espionage? C’mon. You walked right into that one. But you were determined nonetheless. You knew you were capable. You were smart, adaptable, skilled—pretty much everything a secret agent should be. But most of all, you had no connections—nothing else to hold you down. You could live your life as a spy without any restrictions.

You grew up with the familiar feeling of loneliness. The changing of the seasons were marked by a new orphanage after the other. Eventually, you didn’t bother with making friends anymore. What’s the point? They’ll be replaced in a few months anyway. Being cooped up to the side with a book was much better, so that’s what you did. It paid off in the end because when an uptight-looking man came to your orphanage looking for the brightest of the bunch—he chose you.

You figured he was a regular ol’ family man seeking out to help a child in need. Once the papers were all signed and everything was said and done—he brought you home. You had never been to a house as huge as this one. But despite the glamor of the life ahead of you, everything else was normal… at first. The man and his wife welcomed you with open arms. The three of you went out on picnics, ate dinner together, had family game nights in the living room—you know… the normal things normal families do.

But normalcy went right the fuck outta the window when one night he sat you down in the living room with a serious expression. This is it, you thought. They’re gonna get rid of me aren’t they? But I was such a good kid and I—

“Wanna be a spy, kid?”

Huh?

HUUUUUH?

Back then you thought he was messing with you like it was some sort of game. But then you realized everything that wasn’t normal about the family. He would always come home late at night or sometimes he’d have scary looking men over for brunch. His wife would pay no mind to any of it. She’d go about her life like her husband wasn’t doing anything suspicious. Sure, you were young, but that didn’t mean you were stupid.

Reality was that he was the boss of a hotshot spy agency. Now he wants this child that he adopted to be his little project. The idea of becoming an agent was alluring to a child. And, in hindsight, the old geezer definitely used that to his advantage. The way you practically shouted ‘yes’ almost immediately was proof of that.

You say ‘project’ because after you agreed to it—the sense of having a family vanished. He programmed you into thinking that he simply recruited you. Under the law, you were his child. But in your heart, you were just another pawn in his collection. Rather than developing a loving father-child relationship, you had what any boss and employee had. You respected each other, that much is true. And you even admire the man for his abilities. And that was that.

Regardless if you were tricked or not, you’ve come to love your job. The thrill of a good fight would never fail to captivate you. Even though some missions were considerably difficult, you loved your work for all its challenges.

You love it… sooo much.

You repeated that thought at least 20 times in the last minute. You truly needed some convincing right now ‘cuz some fuckers here are really testing your resolve.

I love my job and my job includes respecting my colleagues and not pulling their windpipe out with my bare hands… you thought.

“With all due respect, Mr. Nanami, I can’t just accept you sending her out for this important mission just because she’s the former boss’ kid.”

Alright, that’s it. He can consider his windpipe gone. No one brings up your relationship with the old boss and thinks they can get away with it. You grip the armrests of the chair tightly, preparing to stand up and beat this guy up. But Nanami gestured for you to stay put. You huffed out and leaned back, letting him take care of things again.

After a certain tragedy, the agency had to seek new leadership. As his adopted kid, the one he trained since childhood, you should’ve been the one next in line, right?

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER SOUND. Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

The agency would lose credibility if a woman ran it apparently. And it would just be worse because then people would think it’s another case of nepotism. Oh well. Not like it mattered that much to you. Nanami did a hell of a good job running the place anyway. And it made you feel amazing that he did a way better job than your old man could ever do.

As you can tell—you have a strange relationship with the man who used to run this place, the same man you’re supposed to call dad.

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Her being assigned this mission has nothing to do with her being related to the former boss. How many times must I reiterate this?” But everytime Nanami tries to quell their (unvalidated) thoughts. Another wave of (awful) discussion happens about how you’ll fuck everything up and yada yada.

“Just because she did a couple of jobs doesn’t mean she can do this one.” “Exactly! This is extremely important. What will happen to the agency if she fails?” “Just make her do some shitty honeypot mission. That’s all she’s good for.”

This time you were sure that you’d knock the living shit outta this bastard. Even Nanami won’t stop you now. But alas, a booming voice from the back of the room made his presence known. You grumbled and sat back down as Toji spoke up.

“All you shitheads ever do is complan, don’t ya? Do any of you even have the balls to do this mission? I’m sure as hell none of ya have it.”

All of them suddenly fell quiet. Nanami was the boss, but Toji surely had an aura to him. He was the top agent of the firm. Any mission assigned to him was as good as done—he was just that good. Normally, you’d be pissed that someone is outdoing you, but not him. You respected him and he respected you back… somewhat.

He never attended meetings, but for some reason he was here today. He swaggered over to where everyone else was gathered. His big hand gripped the back of the chair you were sitting on and he lowered himself to face you. His scent was strong, but pleasant. He had a lazy smirk on his face and it irked you. “You can do it though, right, princess?”

You scowled at him. You hated it when he called you ‘princess’. It always felt condescending, but you couldn’t do anything because he decided this is what he’d call you ever since the first time he met you.

“Of course I can,” you spat back. He pulls away and flashes his shit-eating grin to everyone in the room. “Well, ya heard the lady. She says she can do it. Why not let her have it?”

This is why you think he somewhat respected you. Well, respect was a bold term to describe it, but hey, you were thankful he stood up for you.

The men grumbled. Now that both Nanami and Toji were against them, their balls just magically shriveled up. There was no way they could argue with you now.

So, case closed. You win. You get the mission and you can rub that fact in their sorry ass faces. You start to love doing your job again.

And that only lasted for a while.

Suddenly you hated this piece of shit life and this piece of shit job when you found yourself seeking shelter from the rain in an old telephone booth miles and miles away from home. You angrily held your burner phone to your ear, trying to make sense of the choppy audio of some random fucker from the intel division.

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me! I don’t care if the signal is shit—you’re gonna fucking talk to me right now!”

No matter how loud you mouthed off this guy’s ear through the phone, you still couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. You just hung up out of frustration and started slamming your fist against the musty wall of the booth.

FUCK.

Everything just went wrong. So so wrong.

First, they made you fly economy. Not that you minded economy… that is if you were on a trip to the fucking Bahamas. But this isn’t Bahamas and you’re not here to fuck around. You’re here on an important mission so you expect to get to borrow the agency’s jet at least. But noooo, the execs think you’ll do just fine.

Second, the airline decided it was a good day to lose your luggage. You waited for an hour at the carousel, praying that the next boring gray travel bag would be yours. But it never came. You saw red when one of the attendants told you they MIGHT have lost it.

At that point, what you were really losing was your will to live.

Lastly, since everything else blew up in your face, you lost track of time and now communications is shit. You missed the car that was supposed to pick you up and bring you to where you’d be staying for the duration of the mission. You had even managed to get caught up in the heaviest fucking rain you’ve ever experienced in what you swear is the world’s grimiest telephone booth.

Fuck this. Fuck life.

You slowly slumped against the wall and slid down, not caring if this ancient piece of shit had bacteria that could eat your skin off. Actually, the damn bacteria can go ahead and eat you. Nothing matters anymore. All you wanted to do was wither and let the rain wash you away. Forever gone… forever lost.

...

NO. SHUT UP. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.

You slapped yourself with both of your hands, making sure it would leave a mark on your face. This isn’t how you should be acting right now. You’re an agent for crying out loud. Things are supposed to be hard and it’s your job to overcome it.

You felt a little embarrassed from that mini meltdown, but you now have a newfound resolve to move on and prove those idiots back at the agency wrong. You had to succeed. Even if your life depended on it.

You soldiered on through the rain and found a taxi. You thought you had a good grasp of the local language, but you were dead wrong when the taxi driver started speaking in what sounded like moon runes. So he dropped you off in God knows where and left you to your own devices. Like literally. You had to use the shitty burner phone they gave you and the shitty maps app that it had on it.

Somehow you managed to arrive at the inn you’d be staying at. You looked like a wet piece of cardboard limping through the entrance and into your room, but at least you were alive. Now that you had a steady signal, you tried contacting the agency again. Not the dumbasses at intel though—you called Nanami instead. You explained to him what happened with your luggage and how you were lagging behind schedule.

“Look… I know it’s been fuck up after another, but I promise I’ll get back on track.”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the call. And you completely understand if he was disappointed. He did fight for you to be on this mission and this is what he got in return. “It’s alright,” he reassured, “I know you’ll bounce back. You always do.”

His voice was gruff, but comforting. You breathed a little easier.

“I’ll have them bring you some stuff by tomorrow. Just let me know if you need anything else. Is the inn okay?”

You told him that it was fine. It was no 5-star experience, but this was better than any musty telephone booth. You two talked for a while about your experiences for today. You earned a chuckle or two from him. And maybe a conversation with Nanami was enough to ignite your spirit again.

Nanami’s one hell of a drug—considering that his pep talk gave you the strength to venture out of your inn at 2 in the morning to scope out the scene. The scene being the grand mansion of the man you were tasked to spy on. This should've been on day 2 of your itinerary, but you had enough disappointments in this mission already.

Better to take initiative now than later, you thought.

Essentially, all you had to do was keep tabs on this particular man. The man in question hides under the alias, Kenny. Putting it like that makes the task sound easy, but unfortunately for you—Kenny is excellent at covering up his tracks. Not much is known about him even in the underground.

So... what's so important about Kenny?

It's because he has a MAJOR vendetta against your agency. Major as in... he'd probably do just about anything to see it crash and burn. There was a mission in the past which your agency carried out (successfully) which effectively wiped out one of his illegal operations and almost got him in the slammer. Suffice to say he wasn't happy.

Oh... and he may have also killed your former boss... A.K.A your dad.

So, yeeeah. Pretty fucking important mission.

You needed the intel to finally put him away for good. After reading up on all suspected crimes, you wanted nothing more than to make this man face the consequences of his actions.

You may not have loved your father the way you should have, but at the very least, you wanted revenge for him. Up to this day, it still brings a stinging sensation to your heart when you think about how easily they dismissed his murder case just because it was all 'circumstantial evidence'.

REVENGE—was painted in big, bold, red letters on the back of your mind. But at the same time, a part of you knew that there was no way you could kill another man. Sure, you've had your fair share of 'forceful' interrogations, but you've never really gone so far as to take a life of another.

An image of the former boss would sometimes pop in your head. "Don't bite off more than you can chew, kid," he'd remind you—almost constantly. And maybe that applies to your situation now. You know you can't kill him. You know that all you can do by yourself is to collect information—typical espionage things that you were used to.

But, man, it sure would feel great to get the revenge you really want.

You saunter around the estate with your binoculars, hidden behind the rose bushes. You peered through the many windows from afar, trying to find any kind of activity going on. You can’t find the man, but you do see his henchmen all over the place. You made sure to keep mental notes like how many exits there are, how many men are stationed in each place, and how fucking insane this mansion is. You think one infinity pool is enough, but 4? That’s just absurd—definitely compensating for something.

You were so caught up in your recon that you were taken aback when you heard the slightest rustle of leaves behind you. But before you could completely react, a large palm covered your mouth and a strong arm snaked around your body to keep you in place. You thrashed around like a fish out of water, but the assailant’s grip was strong—too fucking strong.

You continued to struggle and gained enough leverage to lift your leg and slam it back right in his family jewels. He stumbled backwards a bit with a groan. You swiftly turned to face the unknown person, ready to retaliate. But upon facing each other, you were both put to a halt.

The assailant in question was a tall man of muscular build. He had a messy undercut, pink spiky tufts with black hair beneath it. He had an intimidating look on his face. Add to that the bold black tattooed lines around his arms. You just knew… he was trouble.

You pulled out your gun and pointed it at his chest.

“Woah woah, slow down, lady,” he says in a low voice. “You a cop or somethin’?”

You were on the good side, of course. You were taking down a detestable man, after all. But it annoyed you to be compared to a cop. You were a fucking secret agent. Emphasis on secret and agent. “A cop?” you asked, eyebrow raised, gun still pointed at him. Even though you wanted so badly to tell him that you’re not just some cop, it was basic agent 101 to not talk about your identity to anyone AT ALL.

“Jeez, you look so offended. I take it you’re not a cop then?” He laughs. The laughter comes deep from within his chest. He seemed oddly calm with a loaded gun pointed at him. He calms down and fixes his gaze on you again. “Well, whatever you are—I won’t let you stop me from killing that man.” Your eyes widen at his declaration. You slowly lowered your gun and as you did, his smile widened. “You’re here for the same reason, aren't you? You’re quite easy to read.”

Now you regret ever lowering your gun on this cocky dipshit. “Who are you?”

He took a few steps closer to you, but you didn’t fall back. You stood your ground and looked up into his red burning eyes. If he thinks he can scare you off, well, he’s dead wrong.

“Name’s Sukuna. And you?” “I don’t care about your name. I’m asking who the hell you are.”

He knew what you were implying, but clearly, he found it funny to toy with you. “Let’s just say we have the same goal, yeah? To get that little jerk living happily down in that mansion?” He says while pointing over at the mansion in the distance. The way your sight followed his finger with a look of contempt practically confirmed his suspicions.

“So I told you my name—what’s yours?”

You gave him an uninterested look. Does he really just give out information this easily? If so, he chose the wrong line of work. “I don’t owe you anything.” He grins and imitates the sound of a fire going out to feign hurt. “After I made myself vulnerable like that? How cruel of you…” He laughed a bit through his nose and backed off a step. “How about I make a proposition?”

“Like hell I’d make a deal with y—”

He placed a stubby finger on your lips to shut you up. “Trust me. You’ll want to hear this,” he says with bravado. You slap his hand away and stare daggers at him. “Seeing as how we might become potential competition for each other and potentially derail each other’s jobs… how about we work together instead?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m gon—”

This time he flicked your forehead. “You don’t shut up, do you?”

First of all, ouch. Second, THE AUDACITY? He could care less about what you had to say. He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. It was like he was studying you, taking in every feature so that he may ingrain into his brain. You instinctively look away—now's not the time for some rando to memorize what you look like. That's just dangerous.

A wide grin spread across his face. "You don't look like someone who kills."

You glared at him. He was right, of course. But he made it seem as if it was something to look down upon. "Who said I killed people anyway?"

"Definitely not that gun your holding," he muses. "You pulled it out so quickly like you wanted to hurt me," he says, getting closer to you again.

"But you never thought to remove the safety hm?"

That got you quiet. True. The gun was mostly an intimidation tactic. You would've resorted to other measures before shooting him dead if needed be. God. You hated how he was so right about you.

He chuckles at your silence. "I guess we're not here for the same reason then?"

You could only turn to look away to the side. Somehow, this felt incredibly embarrassing—like an older bully taunting a small kid.

“So, you’re faced with a dilemma, aren’t you? Am I right or am I right?" He asked, practically shoving his face into your personal space. Though, you didn't budge an inch.

You hated that he was right. Maybe he was good at his job. That or he should've considered fortune telling at those shitty carnivals.

“Let’s say that you are, but what exactly does us ‘working together’ bring to the table?”

“Good question,” he says before flashing a menacing grin. "You see, you have something I don't and I have something that you don't," he explains. Your jaw falls slack at the vague explanation. He notices this and takes it as a sign to continue.

"Since it seems like you're from a fancy agency—I take it that you have the necessary equipment to gather intel on this guy, yeah? Where I'm from... let's just say we're not as blessed." He pauses and sighs, still with a slight smile remaining on his face. "Though, I am blessed with the power to kill this guy. No high-tech bullshit needed." This cocky piece of…

“What makes you think that you could even get anywhere near the guy?”

He laughed again. This time not out of amusement, but definitely out of arrogance. “Baby, I’m just that strong.”

You continued to give him that uninterested look. But you gave it some thought. It really did seem like a win-win situation, except for the fact that you will have to put some insane amount of trust into this guy. Even you don’t trust yourself THAT much.

As you pondered about it, your gaze never left him. You took in every little detail of this man called ‘Sukuna’. He probably realized your doubts as he made his way back into your proximity. His large hand came dangerously close to your face and his fingers gently held your chin. He forced you to look at him and his stupid smirk.

“What do I have to do to earn your trust? Hm? Tell me.” His voice was smooth… tempting. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you weak in the knees.

You gulped. The solution to your internal conflict has appeared. It was right here, in the form of an aggravating man. All you had to do was say yes. You reasoned that—you didn’t necessarily have to work WITH him. You could use him instead. Set your boundaries, play the game, and reap your earnings. And above all, there was no need to put yourself at more risk.

Doesn’t sound so bad, right?

You gripped the wrist of the hand that held your chin and looked him dead in the eye. “Fine. I’ll work with you under one condition…”

...

“Everything is purely just work—absolutely no strings attached.”

Neither of you had to know things about each other and neither of you had the obligation to save each other's asses if it wasn't a threat to your shared goal. Work will just be work. Strictly.

Then you saw that wicked smile again. The same smile that tempted you, bewitched you.

“Consider it a done deal, baby.”

Likes, reblogs, and feedback would be appreciated <3

Interested in part 2? T_T

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #jjk x you #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna au #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #Unveil Me #myoji writes

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