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minkyungseokie · 1 month

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Three’s A Crowd II | Pierre Gasly + Kika Gomes

synopsis; pierre and kika are still trying to get the oblivious and feeling denying y/n to realize just how in love they are with her, but y/n refuses to believe it

warnings; poly, gxg, throuple, homophobia, internalized homophobia, hateful family,

mentions of weaponizing religion, questioning someone’s faith, verbal and physical abuse, and disowning a minor

This is not meant to offend anyone. This is singing both me and a couple I know have experienced.

note; not requested

note2; bruh, I had so much trouble writing this and getting it out. I had so many ideas, but no way of excecuting any of it.

Sorry if this isn’t good enough. I tried to put this off until i could come up with something, but I didn’t want to leave ya hanging

Let's ignore the one in light mode. Also, I know people have lives, but the slug like rate F1 fics are being posted concerns me lol.

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Pierre Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

Y/n sighed. She had woken up due to the sensation of needing to go to the bathroom and the room being way too hot, only to find Pierre and Kika wrapped around her as if she were a tree and they were sloths. Well, more like Kika was holding onto her as if she was a sloth and Y/n was a tree, with her arms wrapped around Y/n's neck loosely and her leg thrown over her hips. Pierre was also clinging onto her, but he somehow ended up on top of her, which was why she was in her current predicament.

She desperately needed to pee, but she didn't want to wake them up. She needed the time before they woke up to fully think about how she felt.

She wanted to confess to the couple every minute she spent with them. Her heart told her to confess and finally get the love she had been yearning for, but her head told her no. Her head told her that she was disgusting for liking two people at once, her head told her that she is a homewrecker for liking both of them and possibly breaking them up,, her head told her to protect her heart from rejection and keep the friendship rather than sacrifice it for her selfish feelings.

She had so much going on inside her head that she needed to leave the room right them or else she'd break down and she would rather not have to explain why she's having a random breakdown in the bed.

Y/n managed to get Pierre off of her and wrapped around Kika instead before jumping out of bed and hightailing it to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn't get into a relationship even if she was willing to ruin her friendship. Despite her saying that she was confident and secure in her sexuality, she really wasn't.

Being raised in a highly homophobic environment where she was taught to be a submissive house wife and her brother was raised in the mindset of a toxic "alpha" male. Y/n may have been kicked out because she didn't take in the teachings her parents tried to force into her mind, but she was still raised in a household where being different was disgusting for twenty years of her life.

It was a hard mindset to get rid of without the correct help and, to be quite honest, she never talked to anyone about it other than Pascale Leclerc, who wanted to put Y/n into therapy. If Y/n didn't basically have a panic attack when the therapist tried to pry too far, too fast, things probably would've been different.

Y/n tried to swallow the lump in her throat and keep the tears from exiting her tear ducts. Y/n began to sniffles and furiously wipe her eyes as the tears fell down her face.

Kika stretched as Pierre got out of the bed and put on a shirt, "Where's Y/n?" Kika asked, scratching her head. "Not sure. She was gone when I woke up. Maybe the bathroom since the door is closed." Pierre shrugged, leaning over to kiss the model. Kika stood up and walked up to the bathroom door, "Hey, Minha linda. Are you okay in there?" Kika spoke, knocking on the thick wooden door.

Y/n didn't answer.

"Minha linda?" Kika called out, pressing her ear to the door to see if she could hear any movement or the shower. Kika's heart lurched when she heard labored breathing rather than the sound of water running, "Y/n?! Are you okay? Can I come in, please?" Kika asked worriedly, putting a hand on the doorknob.

Pierre looked over at the sound of his girlfriend's panicked voice. The French man dropped what was in his hand and marched over to his girlfriend's side, "What's wrong, mon cœur?" Pierre questioned worriedly. "I think something's wrong with Y/n. She seems to be in distress." Kika answered, turning back to the door and trying the doorknob.

It was locked just as she thought.

"Y/n? Please let us in. We just want to make sure that you're okay." Pierre spoke up, knocking on the door gently, but there was no answer. Kika put her ear to the door to see if she could hear more, only to hear hyperventilating, "She's hyperventilating. We have to get in there." Kika said, "There's a key right here just in case." Pierre explained, reaching up to grab a key off the doorframe. Kika snatched the key and fumbled trying to put it in the keyhole, "Stop, stop, stop. Kika, look at me. I need you to take a deep breath and calm down. Panicking will not help our Y/n." Pierre soothed.

Kika nodded, taking a few deep breaths. In, out, in, out.

Now calmed, Kika inserted the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. Pierre grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open, "Oh, shit. She's having a panic attack." Pierre cursed. "I'm going to touch you, is that alright?" Pierre asked, hands hovering over Y/n's body, waiting until he got permission before sitting on the floor and pulling Y/n into his lap with Kika sitting right next to them looking up what to do when one is having a panic attack, "Okay, first step is to remain calm and ask them if they need anything." Kika instructed.

"Do you need anything, mon cœur?" Pierre muttered, holding Y/n to his chest. Y/n shook her head, but her panic attack ensued, "Can you raise up a hand for me?" Kika asked, hovering a hand over Y/n's back. Y/n shakily held up a hand and kept it there until Kika told her to put it back down. Kika had the girl repeat the action until her breathing calmed only a bit.

Pierre took Y/n's head and gently put it on his chest, "Can you hear me breathing?" Pierre inquired, earning a nod from Y/n. "Good, now I need you to try a breathe with me. Just try to copy my breathing." Pierre suggested. Pierre took Y/n's hand, Kika took the other one, and placed it on his chest.

Pierre began to take deep breaths until Y/n began to try and copy, "I'm proud of you. Good job." Kika praised, stroking Y/n's curls, "That's it, my girl. Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in the present." Pierre said. "You can get through this." Kika encouraged, placing a kiss on Y/n's forehead.

The couple continued to praise and say words of affirmation until she stopped hyperventilating, but she was still breathing hard and shaking, "Hey, gorgeous. Can you look at me?" Kika asked, placing her hands on Y/n's thighs, gently stroking them as a form of comfort. Y/n turned and looked Kika in the eyes, "That's my girl. Can you name three objects you see for me, hm?" Kika queried.

Y/n's eyes darted around frantically, "Hey, don't stress yourself out. It's okay. You don't need to search. Just name me the first three things you see." Kika gently ordered.

Y/n nodded and took a shaky breath, "Bru-brush, um, r-ring, and...and, um, shoes." Y/n stuttered, looking around.

"Good girl." Pierre praised, stroking Y/n's arm comfortingly, "That's perfect. You're doing amazing. Now, can you name me the things you can hear?" Kika asked. "Yo-you, the wind, a-and Pierre's breathing." Y/n let out a sigh, "Great, not move three body parts." Kika said. Y/n wiggles her toes, then her fingers, and then her ankle. "That's it. You did perfect, chérie." Pierre praised, "You did so amazing. I'm so proud of you." Kika joined the praising.

Y/n took a couple of more breaths and stood up, "Thank you. For helping." Y/n thanked in a dull voice. "Do you want to tell us what caused your panic attack?" Pierre asked, "It's just...I..." Y/n hesitated, Kika reached over and put a hand on Y/n's thigh again, "It's okay. You don't have to tell us if you aren't ready." Kika spoke, "We're here if you want to though." Pierre added.

"I just started thinking about...someone I really like and I began thinking about my family. They weren't the...they didn't like... they were homophobic and when I thought about them. I thought I was confident in my preferences, but I realized just how much my parents teachings affected me." Y/n explained, "Internalized homophobia, I guess."

Pierre and Kika shared a look, "You're...your parents didn't accept the fact that you liked more than men?" Kika asked, "Yeah, they said that the Bible is against same sex love. Just like all the other Christians who hate the LGBTQ, they use the Bible to "prove" their views. I asked my mother, who caught me kissing my best friend, where in the Bible did it say that loving someone of the same sex and she slapped me." Y/n chuckled.

As Y/n talked, she slid down until her head was in Pierre's lap and her bottom was in Kika's. Kika played with Y/n's shirt while Pierre ran his hand through her hair the best he could but since it was curly, he had to settle for scratching her head. "And then what happened?" Kika asked, urging Y/n to continue, "She allowed me to stay for a bit longer, in the house, but there was constant verbal and physical abuse." Y/n swallowed.

"She thought that if they treated me the way others in the world would treat me, it'd convert me. They tried sending me to conversion therapy, but we got into a fight and I got kicked out. Luckily, the Leclerc's took me in and raised me to be the way I am now. I owe them my life. They're the only family I have now and they've tried to help me, but I refused therapy. I thought I had the right mindset, but now I realize that...I'm not as tough as i thought and the family's tracings did, in fact, get to me." Y/n sighed before realizing she was ranting about problems that they weren't apart of.

Y/n didn't realize just how comfortable she felt around them until she was spilling her past to them. “I just realized I’m trauma dumping to you. I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this.” Y/n started to sit up, but Pierre pulled her back down while Kika gently pushed her down. “Mon cœur, if we didn’t want to hear, we wouldn’t have asked. We care about you. We…we love you and we want to hear things about you.” Pierre said, “The good or the bad. We want to know whatever it is you want to tell us.” Kika added.

Y/n looked into Pierre’s ocean blue eyes before locking eyes with Kika. The couple stared at Y/n expectantly, “What?” Y/n asked, eyes darting between the two. Pierre groaned and Kika sighed, Pierre thought she would get what they meant when he said it, but maybe saying it constantly as friends didn’t help.

They would have to find a way to confess that couldn’t be confused as a friendly gesture.

After getting dressed for the day, the three set off to walk around town. They were planning on showing Y/n around Italy by taking her to their favorite spots. Making sure her hands never left theirs or a hand was on her body at all times, they showed her all their favorite places before stopping at a cafe for lunch.

“Ah, this place is so cool,” Y/n said, swinging their connected hands back and forth, “Yeah? Do you think you can make it home? I know you’ve been thinking about moving to Italy or are you staying in Monaco?” Kika questioned. “Maybe. I mean, my family’s in Monaco, but you and Pierre are in Italy. So far, I think that I’m team Italy.” Y/n said absentmindedly.

Kika and Pierre shared an excited look. “Tonight. We tell her tonight.” Pierre mouthed to Kika, who agreed. They’d be confessing their love to Y/n tonight during dinner.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/n sat on the beach while Kika and Pierre played in the water. She smiled and took some pictures for Instagram and Twitter later, knowing that Pierre would want some for the photo dump he posted sometimes before the next GP. The girl scrolled through Instagram, just looking at whatever her friends posted and looking at reels until she noticed one with her name in it.

Twitter/X when Y/n, Pierre, and Kika look so cute together, but they can't see it.

With the caption reading, 'I don't understand how they can be so obvious and oblivious at the same time.'

Y/n scrambled onto Twitter to find that she indeed was trending alongside Kika and Pierre. Pressing onto the hashtag with her name on it, she read the posts to see what people were saying

Y/n lowered her phone and stared ahead with wide eyes. Had she actually been missing the signs that Pierre and Kika had been throwing her? They were normally super close. Always touching and being super close, so it was hard for her to tell they wanted to be more than friends.

Y/n looked up at the blue sky, trying to think of anything that could've been seen as a hint as that they wanted to be more than friends with Y/n. Nothing came to mind until she started cycling through the things that they usually do with her throughout the years.

The kissing.

Y/n had never had that type of interaction between any of them before this year. She didn’t know when it started, but she knew it just happened one day and she never questioned it. Her forehead, her temple, her nose, her cheeks, her hands, and the top of her head. Now that she thought about it, there were times where they were close to kissing her lips and she just someone hadn’t noticed.

“What’s got you so concentrated?” Pierre’s voice spoke from behind her as he sat down so that she was between his legs, “Yeah, what’s got your attention like that?” Kika questioned, sitting in between Y/n’s legs.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I was just…thinking about stuff.” Y/n waved off their concern, wrapping her arms around the slightly older model while leaning against Pierre. “Are you sure? You looked deep in thought when we came up. We even called you, but you didn’t answer.” Kika said, “Everything is fine. Again, I was just thinking about something. Do you think we can get some gelato?” Y/n asked, quickly changing the subject.

Kika sat up excitedly, “Ooo, gelato sounds perfect. It’s a good idea. Let’s go!” Kika grabbed Y/n’s hand and ran to the nearest gelato shop, “Wait, Ki. What about Pierre?” Y/n asked, looking at the man who was still sitting on the beach with a confused look on his face. “We’ll get him some too. I just wanted to spend some time alone with you, even if it’s just a couple of minutes.” Kika flirted, batting her pretty little lashes at Y/n.

Y/n practically melted in her flip flops.

Now that she has been made aware that the two openly flirt with her, she was going to try and see it. She could now see that Kika tended to use her large brown eyes to her advantage and it always worked on her unknowingly.

“You’re adorable.” Y/n muttered, pinching Kika’s cheeks causing the girl to groan and slap her hands away, “Stop! You’re acting like my grandmother.” Kika whined. The girls walked up to the counter and ordered their gelatos with Pierre getting bacio, Kika getting stracciatella, and Y/n getting lampone.

“Pierre, we’ve got you gelato!” Y/n sung, playfully swaying hips in a weird dance as the two girls approached the man. “What did you get me?” Pierre asked, grabbing the gelato from Y/n’s hands, “Bacio.” Kika answered, “Mmm, lampone is so good. Do you two want to try?” Y/n asked, holding out a spoonful of her gelato out for Pierre.

Pierre stared into her eyes as he took the spoon in his mouth and licked his lips once she took the spoon back, “Cheeky.” Y/n whispered, turning to feed Kika some of it as well.

Y/n decided that if they were really into her, she’d openly flirt with them and let them make the first move. She wasn’t going to take the word of people online and possibly break up their perfect friendship or the couple’s relationship. If anything were to happen, she’d have to let them to do it to make sure that she doesn’t cross any boundaries and make them uncomfortable. “That real is good. Do you want some of mine?” Pierre asked. The trio kept feeding each other spoonful of gelato and making jokes.

Y/n began to feel uncomfortable with how bright the sun was. She reached into her bag and pulled it sunscreen, “We need to put this on. Tans are amazing, but possible skin cancer is not.” Y/n waved the bottle around. Y/n opened the bottle only to have it snatched out of her hand, “Hey!” Y/n gasped, looking at Pierre, “I’ll help you put it on.” Pierre offered. “I’d this and excuse to touch my ass?” Y/n teased, looking at Pierre through narrowed lids, “Who knows?” Pierre shrugged, smiling at the curly-haired girl.

Y/n lifted her hair up so that Pierre could get her neck, “Kika, sit in front of me. I’ll get you covered if you need sunscreen.” Y/n offered, pulling out another bottle of sunscreen. “Yes, please.” Kika crawled in between Y/n’s legs, putting her hair into a bun so none of the sunscreen got into it.

Y/n sat up so that she was on her knees with her legs in an “L” shape. Y/n opened the sunscreen bottle and began applying it to Kika when she felt Pierre’s hands brushing sand off her ass and then sunscreen being applied to her butt and thighs, “I feel like you’re having too much fun touching my ass, Mr. Gasly.” Y/n hummed, “Maybe I am.” Pierre played along, “You hear this, Kiki? We might have to run away together and leave Pierre behind.” Y/n joked as the model laid on her stomach to give Y/n better access to her body.

Y/n sighed, looking through her Instagram feed with a bored expression on her face. Kika and Pierre had gone out to do lord knows what while she stayed in the villa. Y/n groaned, throwing her phone on the bed. Maybe they were were on a date together and that's why they were taking so long to come back.

Y/n got off the bed and grabbed a towel, going to take a shower while waiting for the couple to come back from doing whatever it was that they were doing. Stepping out of the shower and wrapping the towel around her body, Y/n walked out into the bedroom and grabbed her lotion, deodorant, and stuff for her hair. Just as she was about to remove the towel, the door to the bedroom opened up.

“Merde, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were getting dressed.” Pierre cursed, turning so he wasn’t looking at her body anymore, “Shit, you scared me. You’re lucky that i didn’t take off my towel.” Y/n scolded. “Sorry!” Pierre apologized, but he didn’t make the move to leave the room. “Pierre, what’s taking so long?” Kika asked, pushing past him to see Y/n in nothing but a towel.

Kika pulled an outfit out of a bag and tossed it on the bed, “Here put that on and come out when you’re done.” Kika ordered, pulling Pierre out of the doorway and shut the door behind her. Y/n moisturized her body and held up the outfit that was tossed to her. She recognized that this was an outfit that she had bought when she and Kika went shopping together before the trip.

(If you don’t like the outfit, feel free to imagine your own. Just needs to be black)

She didn’t realize she had packed it.

Y/n put on a pair of boots, put her hair in twin buns, and (put on makeup or not. Your choice) walked out of the room to see that Kika and Pierre are also dolled up. Kika in a black mini dress and heels, and Pierre wearing black pants with thin white lines that crossed to male squares and a black button down.

“You guys look good!” Y/n spoke up, grabbing their attention. Pierre and Kika’s eyes scanned her body like they were staring and analyzing a piece of art, “You look amazing, minha vida.” Kika complimented, “So do you! My gosh, your legs are gorgeous.” Y/n said. Kika’s cheeks turned pink, “Oh, thank you. Pierre, didn’t she look good?” Kika asked, turning to Pierre, who was still staring at Y/n, but with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Pierre? Please stop staring.” Y/n said, looking away nervously, “Pierre.” Kika hissed, nudging her boyfriend. Pierre snapped back to attention and gave Y/n and wrapped an arm around Kika’s waist, “You look nice, chérie.” Pierre said, holding out his arm for Y/n to take.

Y/n looked at his arm and reluctantly took it. Even if the people on Twitter were right, Y/n still felt like she was home wrecking their relationship, which is why she decided to let them take control and comes if they really did like her. Y/n cleared her throat, “So, uh, where are we going?” Y/n asked as Pierre led the two of them to his car, opening the door and pushing the seat forward so Y/n could get into the back. “Out.” Pierre amswered cheekily, “But out where?” Y/n questioned as she put on her seatbelt, “We’re just going out for dinner. It’s the last day of our break together before Suzuka.” Kika explained.

Y/n nodded and looked out the window of the car. The only people who were talking were Kika and Pierre, who were mumbling low so she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Y/n was getting annoyed. After rubbing sunscreen on each others bodies, she thought they’d be more open and flirtatious with her, but it seemed like they were just pulling away more.

Maybe the people online were wrong. Maybe they were just seeing things and upon seeing something that wasn’t actually there, they convinced Y/n that the couple had wanted her the way she wanted them. Y/n sighed and looked down at her hands, maybe she was just being…what do the fans call it? Delulu?

Maybe she was being delulu when it came to her relationship with Kika and Pierre. She had an entire panic attack over being in love with another woman and possibly breaking up a relationship and it turns out it might’ve been justified. The woman’s mood soured right then and there. She didn’t want to go out anymore, but remained quiet because it wasn’t their fault she deluded herself into thinking that they’d love her the way she loved them.

“Y/n? We’re here.” Kika spoke, poking her with her mini Kelly, “Oh? Yeah, I’m coming.” Y/n said, trying not to let the emotion she was feeling bored into her voice. Y/n exited the car, ignoring the hand Pierre was offering to her and walked in the restaurant ahead of the couple, “Does she seem upset to you?” Kika asked, “Yeah, I don’t know. Are you sure we should do this tonight?” Pierre inquired. “We should. It might improve her mood.” Kika said.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was well into the night and meals were halfway eaten by the time the two were ready to confess. Y/n was just ready to go home because she was tired and didn’t want to continue third wheeling. At the same time, she had no right to be upset when she was the one who deluded herself into thinking they genuinely were interested. Kika wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin before putting it down, "Y/n, there's something we have to--"

"Excuse me."

A new voice interrupted Kika's sentence causing all eyes to turn to the person who interrupted the said woman. It was a gorgeous man with red and black dyed hair, "Hello, can I help you?" Y/n asked politely, "I apologize if this straightforward, but I just thought you were beautiful and wanted to ask if you wanted to come hang out with me." The guy said. Y/n wasn't really interested in him the way he was with her, but she was kind of upset and tired of being the third wheel on this outing, so she didn't see why she couldn't get to know someone new.

The man held out a hand for her to take if she was interested. Y/n looked at the hand and put her hand into his, "Do you guys mind if I go with him? You can make this a date or something." Y/n said, standing up. "It is a date so you can't leave!" Kika blurted, "What do you mean by that, Kika?" Y/n asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Y/n, we just wanted to spend time with you before we all had to go back to our respective jobs. We don't want you blowing us off for some random ass-- person you just met." Pierre spoke, "Then it should be alright if he sits with us, right? And what were you going to say before you changed the word to person? " Y/n questioned. She wasn't trying to be difficult or break up the time they were spending together, but instead trying to take her mind off of the couple and maybe fall in love with someone available.

"Nothing. He was going to say nothing. Y/n, please sit down and let him go. We are just trying to have a nice evening with you." Kika said, "Kika, I understand that and I'm sorry for trying to invite some random dude out of the blue, but I was tired of being the third-wheel. I want to have someone to talk to while you're being all lovey dovey with each other." Y/n sighed, turning to the guy. "I'm sorry, but can we rain check?" Y/n asked

The man pulled a pen out of his pocket and grabbed a paper napkin nearby, bending down and using the table to write something on the napkin, "Don't worry about it. Finish hanging out with your friends and call me whenever. The name's Milo by the way." The guy said, gently placing the paper into her hands.

"It was lovely meeting you." Y/n said, waving as he left. Once Milo was gone, Y/n turned to the couple with a scowl before taking a deep breathe and sitting down. "Listen, Y/n. We didn't mean to ruin your chances at possibly meeting someone you could have a future connection with, but--" "It's fine. It's whatever. I was... never mind. I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling it tonight." Y/n sighed again.

"And that's fine. We are sorry as well. Right, Pierre?" Kika asked, turning to her boyfriend, "No." Pierre answered causing both girl's heads to shoot up, "What?" Kika gasped, "What do you mean by "no"?" Y/n asked. "I meant no. Listen, I'm sorry you feel like the third wheel and I'm sorry you felt like we weren't giving you enough attention..."

"Pierre, what are you..." Kika started

"We actually invited you to this trip because we had something we've been meaning ot tell you..." Pierre continued

"Pierre..." Kika warned.

"We both love you and before you say that you love us too, we love you. As in, we want you to be our girlfrien--" "Pierre!" Kika hissed, hoping to cut him off before Y/n could fully hear him, but it seemed like it was too late. Y/n sighed, "I know that this is a--''

"Finally. I thought I was being delusional." Y/n gave a sigh of relief. The couple shared a confused look before looking to Y/n, "What do you mean by that?" Pierre questioned, "You think I'd let you touch my ass if I didn't like you? I was oblivious for the first part, but something enlightened me and I saw that it was pretty obvious." Y/n shrugged.

"We were trying to make it obvious, but we didn't expect you to actually get the hints." Kika muttered, "I'm oblivious, not stupid." Y/n joked. "So that finally means I can do this." Pierre surged forward and kissed Y/n deeply, "Pierre, we're still the restaurant." Kika said, pulling him back until he let go of Y/n.

"Wow, I didn't expect that." Y/n said, "You guys go wait by the car while I pay." Pierre suggested. Kika grabbed Y/n's hand and lead her outside while Pierre called the waiter so he could pay the bill.

Pierre also ordered a bottle of wine to go before exiting the resturant to see his girlfriend cuddled up to Y/n. Both girls had dopey smiles on their faces and Y/n had Kika's lipstick smeared on her lips, which gave Pierre an idea of what went on while he was paying. "This means you'll take us as your lovers, no?" Pierre asked, "Yeah, of course." Y/n nodded.

Kika cheered, throwing her arms around the two taller people, bringing them into a group hug. "Ah! Amo-vos muito." Kika muttered, burying her head in Pierre's neck, "Je vous aime tous les deux beaucoup." Pierre spoke before Y/n said it in her own native language.

The trio then went home as a newly formed throuple.

I'm sorry I rushed the ending and at one point I had no idea where this was going. I might take this down and rewrite it, but for now, here's you part two

418 notes · View notes

exhaslo · 5 months

Note

Would you ever consider doing anything for Miguel/Fem!Deadpool reader?

One who's honestly just kind of tease which makes it impossible for Miguel to figure out *why* he hates her flirting with other spidermen so much until the penny hits.

Bonus points for recklessness and brat energy from DP we all know they aint got no self control. Needs Miguel to definitely put her in her place.

Ohhhh, I have seen so much fan art of just regular Deadpool being a menace to Miguel, Dr. Strange and the TVA. It gets me excited to see the new movie coming out!

But yea, let's give into the chaos!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, bondage, angry sex?, p in v, language

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"For fuck's sake, why is there so many anomaly's popping up in different universes?" Miguel barked, tapping against his screens as he sent numerous Spiderman and women out to the field.

"Actually, based on the energy signatures, it seems to be the same anomaly."

"Impossible, one person jumping around all of these?" Miguel cussed lowly, trying to identify the new anomaly.

This new frustration was giving Miguel a reason to want to drink tonight. The speed he was working to try and understand this problem was honestly amazing. This was probably the fastest he has ever worked.

"Wow! No wonder why all of the Spiders I met say great things about you!" You gasped.

"Que?! (What)" Miguel hissed, seeing both a new intruder alert and anomaly alert appear at the same time, "Who-"

"Haiiiiiii! Pleasure to meet you, sexy ass, my name is (Y/N), I'm like the hottest version of me there is-"

"I. Don't. Care." Miguel hissed, jumping down from his platform and approaching you, "This attire...fuck-"

"Yeeeeep! I'mma Deadpool!" You chirped.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose before taking long, deep breathes. Once he regained a portion of his composure, he proceeded to grab you by the collar and drag you to the 'Go Home' Machine.

At least one of his problems were solved today. Hopefully you will stay in your dimension. Trying to ignore your chatter, Miguel couldn't help but notice some of the other Spiders avoiding eye contact. This annoyed Miguel. How many of them ran into you before saying anything?

"Hm? Oh like half of them." You replied. Miguel groaned loudly,

"Wasn't even a thought bubble," He muttered under his breathe before arriving in the room, "I don't want to see you here again. Stay in your world."

"Awe, but isn't fun! Not when I found such a squeezable ass-"

"Send. Her. Home!" Miguel spat.

It only took a second, but you were sent home immediately. Miguel took another deep breathe before returning to his office to hopefully relax.

----------

"Hehe, he gets so mad when he finds me wandering around this place. It totally isn't my fault that all of you guys think of taking a break here and I just-hop into those thoughts and end up here!" You huffed, talking to Peter B. Parker and Jessica.

"Yeah, yeah, we still don't understand the whole hopping into thought bubbles thing you say you do. It's so confusing." Peter huffed.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. I'd like to describe it as a comic book, but you guys won't understaaaaand, the readers will though!"

"Readers?" Jessica groaned softly. You just laughed,

"Oh yeah! The readers reading this now! So like, normally it's a comic I hop around or thought bubbles or I just rip through the screen, but this time...It's the readers who bring me here!"

"I think I'm more confused than when I started," Peter whined and turned to Jessica who tossed you into the 'Go Home' machine, "Look, just...don't come back before Miguel gets bad again."

"Hpmh! I just said it isn't my fault I keep coming back!" You whined loudly, "The readers and writer keeps bringing me here! I am meant to share my wisdom to Miguel!"

"Why do I hear that Deadpool's voice?" Miguel grumbled, holding a cup of coffee as he walked by, "Again?"

"See! He neeeeeeds me! That has to be why the writer keeps putting me here!"

"What the hell is she babbling about now?"

"Please, don't ask. I don't think my brain can handle anymore." Peter whimpered. Jessica waved him aside,

"She's going home now, Miguel."

Just as the machine turned on, you immediately got sent home. Miguel let out a sigh of relief and right when he was going to drink his coffee, you appeared behind him.

"Fuck!" Miguel yelled as he noticed you. You just casually waved,

"Believe in the spirits beyond."

"I want her gone!"

"Miguel, we've tried so many times. I think...we just need to accept her appearing here." Jessica whispered. You grabbed Miguel's cup, taking a sip,

"Oof, so bitter. So now that I can stay here under the writer decides to let me go home, wanna show me around, big boy?"

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he followed you, mainly just wanting his coffee back.

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

It has been a few weeks since you've stayed at the-

"Whoa, whoa. Really writer? You gonna make here stay here for weeks without going home?" You huffed.

Okay, sorry, um, it has been a few weeks since you started to willingly appear at the Spider Society.

"Thank you!"

....

Uh, anyway, Miguel has finally started to tolerate you to a certain degree. You still couldn't understand why you kept appearing there, but you were making the most of it. Miguel on the other hand, was starting to find something new to irritate him.

"It's just so fascinating how different each of you are~ Can I touch those wonderful large boobs of yours?" You whispered in awe towards a Spiderman. Yes a Spiderman.

"They're not boobs."

"It's okay to not want to admit your flaws. I buried mine with my neighbor." You whispered, slowly reaching out to the boob.

"Enough." Miguel hissed, grabbing the back of your collar and dragging you to his office.

"Hey! I was about to grab something that could have been the most magically experience of my life!"

Miguel chose to ignore you, growing annoyed at your bratty and quite ignorant behavior. Honestly, he was more annoyed by the amount of flirting you've been doing with the other Spiders. You just didn't know when to stop.

"I can't help it. A natural icon I am," You chuckled and grabbed Miguel's ass, "But this...is a multiverse icon."

Miguel's eyes lit up as he locked his door and tossed you on his platform. In an instant, he webbed you in place, making sure that you couldn't move to try to free yourself.

"Ohhhh~ This is kinky~" You cooed, rolling around like a worm. Miguel pinned you to the floor, his blood red eyes piercing into yours,

"Do you know how frustrated you make me?"

"So...you aren't happy to see me?" You grinned, your knee poking at his growing erection, "I made you horny!"

"Silence," Miguel covered your mouth, "Shit, you're so annoying. No one has been able to put you in your place. Do I need to be the one to do that?" He said with a huff.

You licked his hand in response, "Awe, not sure if a fucking will stop me, but you are so willing to try~" You hummed.

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he captured your lips in a kiss, wanting to shut you up. You couldn't help yourself and smirked, enjoying this moment. Parting your lips, you hummed as Miguel forced his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming your body.

"Mhm~ Gim....sq..." You tried to say. Miguel broke the kiss, glaring towards your,

"What?" He grumbled, biting and sucking against your neck. You chuckled as his hands reached your breasts,

"Give em a squeeze~ You know you wanna~"

"Do I have to shut your mouth again?" Miguel grumbled, kissing you again.

You tried your best to behave, you truly did. You couldn't help but try to grind against his hips, press your chest to his, or even kiss his neck. Miguel was ready to web your mouth, at least until he started to rub your-

"Whoa, whoa, writer, now I don't mind a good sex scene, but lemme have some privacy here!" You huffed.

Uh, I kind of wrote smut in the warning...so I'm giving the readers what they want, a sex scene.

"Well, I want this man to myself right now! You write other smuts! Let them read those!"

But they wanted this...I can't just-

"Consent!" You huffed, literally spreading your legs towards a feral Miguel who had you pinned, "This is different! I'm totally into this freaky shit!"

"Who are you talking too?" Miguel grumbled, ripping your suit. You shushed towards him,

"The writer! Wait juuuuust a second before shoving that monster of a cock inside me!"

I need to give them a sex scene here. You're already helping me write it.

"No, no! You are trying to write it. I'm trying to enjoy the moment. So be a good writer and juuuuuuuust-"

---------

"Thank you~"

What just happened?

"Oh, I totally skipped the part where Miguel fucked me so good that I actually did shut up. Hell, I think I still feel weak in the knees. Who would have known the stamina and strength that man had. Fucking hot, can't wait to-"

You skipped my story?! I'm the writer here!

"Yeaaaaaah, but like, you can always write more smut. Let me just enjoy that moment to me~. I'm sure you understand~" You cooed.

...

"Hehe, go on. End the story. I'm sure you have other smut to write."

I just- Whatever.

Let's just say, you made yourself a permanent member of the Spider Society. You made sure to annoy Miguel just enough so that he could keep teaching you a lesson. Hopefully, we'll get to see one of those lessons one of these days.

"Maybe~ If I decide to show the goods."

Freaking Deadpools.

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

Hahaha, hope you enjoyed! I always loved it when Deadpool would just talk to the narrator or hop comic pages sometimes. It was great.

@tojishugetiddies

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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flowercrowncrip · 2 months

Text

Lifts (elevators) I’ve experienced as a wheelchair user:

Platform lift with a weight capacity far below the weight of me + my power chair but that I needed to get to class. The member of staff assured me it was fine even when the platform worryingly bent away from the wall as I got on it.

Lifts which are difficult to get in and out of because they barely fit my wheelchair and had no room for my carer. They have to press the button for me and rush up the stairs to meet me at the top and help me out. I come across this a lot.

Lift with the buttons not working. One place I volunteered at I had to call my colleagues once I was in the lift so they could call the lift to the floor I needed from the outside. The owners of the building refused to let us move to an empty downstairs office and said that fixing the lift “wasn’t a priority”. This was over five years ago and the lift is now completely broken and has never been repaired.

Lift that requires both the up and down button to be pressed at the same time to call the lift regardless of whether you’re going up or down, but only on one of the floors. There was no sign to explain this and it took a member of staff going to find another colleague who regularly used the lift to figure it out.

Lift shared between two organisations with different opening times. The downstairs organisation locked up before the upstairs organisation did. This is how I ended up accidentally breaking into and setting the burglar alarm off in a nightclub.

#disability #wheelchair user #powerchair user #cripplepunk

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powdermelonkeg · 4 months

Note

just saw ur gale/mystra analysis post. im new to the game and dnd lore and honestly… ur take on their relationship feels like the most natural/compelling one??? esp since its all too easy to simplify topics that have many facets and nuance….

thanks for sharing i love analysis and reading people’s takes on narratives : D

My pleasure! (Bee from the future here: congrats, you spawned another meta!)

I love complicated characters, WAY more than I like a clear cut-and-dry case. Flaws, to me, are what make a character compelling and lead to interesting stories about them with choices that can get them into situations. I'm both writing a fanfic and running a campaign where I'm playing as Gale, and in the interest of portraying him properly and in-character, I've gone into SUCH a deep dive into all the decisions and facts that make him him.

It helps to, y'know, also be in love with the fictional wizard, but I digress

The thing about Baldur's Gate 3 is that no character in there is perfect. I've seen a couple analyses about the theme of continuing cycles of abuse vs breaking out of them, but in my mind, in terms of the characters themselves, it goes like this:

The origin characters have just come out of the lowest situation of their lives (Lae'zel being the exception; being tadpoled is a gith's worst nightmare. You're seeing that lowest situation in real time).

Not the lowest point, mind. Gale's lowest was probably the day after he got the Orb. Wyll's was probably the day his father cast him out. Karlach's was the day she lost her heart. But the lowest, accepted normal for them is what they've just left.

They're then thrown out of their depth and forced to rely on you to live. That's #1 priority: living. We get the extremes of these characters before we get their nuances, because they're quite literally at their breaking points.

Then once we get to know them, we see their wants, their hopes, their fears, as they open up to us. Every companion's story is at their own pace, but they all have a moment where they ping-pong between despondency and desire. Sometimes that desire is what we know isn't good for them, like Shadowheart wanting to be a Dark Justiciar. Sometimes that despondency is only for a flicker, like Astarion's realization that he's condemned 7000 people to a half-life of tortured spawnhood for as long as he's been a vampire.

Romance lets us crack all that open more, because if you pursue a romantic partner, they see you as their closest confidant. They WANT to trust you, so they're more willing to explain how they see the world and what decisions they want to chase.

And then their endings. Those often get simplified as good/bad, continuing the cycle vs breaking away from it. But how is Duke Wyll on the same platform as Ascended Astarion? He's not evil, he's not even entirely unhappy. He might even have broken out of his abusive cycle with Mizora, if you played your cards right. And Ascended Astarion is overjoyed, even if he is remarkably more cold.

I think that the endings are less a dichotomy of "this is good for them" vs "this is bad for them," and more one of "bringing out their best traits" vs "bringing out their worst."

Wyll's worst trait is being willing to sacrifice his own wants for whatever people desire of him. His best is standing for what he believes in and ensuring people are safe. Duke Wyll leans into that necessity to turn the other cheek in the name of people who count on him, while the Blade of Avernus has seized that moral compass of his and forged it out of mithral.

Shadowheart's worst trait is blind obedience at the cost of her individuality, while her best is her desire to be kind to things that don't deserve to be hurt. Mother Superior Shadowheart's whole life is defined by Shar. Selûnite Shadowheart's life is defined by her hospitality, especially towards animals.

Karlach's worst trait is how willing she is to accept that things are (to quote her) fucked, letting despair override hope. Her best is her durability in the face of horror. Exploded Karlach would rather die than try to work out a solution in the Hells, because she's terrified of facing Zariel alone. Mindflayer Karlach has accepted her fate and decides to give up her heart and soul to go out a hero, losing who she is. Fury of Avernus Karlach is willing to keep fighting for a solution, and by the time the epilogue happens, she's got her sights set on one.

Astarion's worst trait is his desire for power over people. His best trait is using the tools he has to his advantage. Ascended Astarion has let his powerhungry nature and paranoia lead all of his decisions, with his sights set on dominating mankind. Spawn Astarion has embraced what he is, and carved out a life for himself where he can do as he pleases.

Lae'zel's worst trait is her blind fanaticism, while her best trait is her individual dedication, making her loyalty a marriage of the two. Ascended Lae'zel is a meal for the lich queen, turning a blind eye to all Vlaakith's tried to do to her and literally being consumed by her fervor. Champion of Orpheus Lae'zel has turned her loyalty into something productive for diplomacy. Faerûnian Lae'zel has seized her individuality by the throat and decided her own future.

And then Gale. Gale's worst traits are his hubris and, paradoxically, his low self worth. His best traits are his creativity and wonder for the world. God Gale is the embodiment of ambition, having burned away all but that in pursuit of perfection. Exploded Gale has let his remorse blot out all hope for a redemption in which he does not die, because he thinks he's earned it. Professor Gale leads his life by embracing the school of Illusion and letting his creativity thrive, teaching others to do the same. House Husband Gale has multiple creative projects he's working on, and Adventurer Gale is always finding new sights to see and wanting to share them with you.

There are arguments to be made on which ending the origins are happiest in, certainly, or which one benefits them the most, but each ending represents the extreme of a facet they possess.

So with all that, there's a sort of malleable method to figuring out the ins and outs of a character.

You take their endings—all of them, all variables they can have—and reverse-engineer the flaws and details they carry. Then you start to notice how those work into their approvals for minor things: Astarion approving of your taking of the Blood of Lathander, or Shadowheart approving of standing up for Arabella. Getting a list of approvals and disapprovals is helpful, but having those endings on hand tells you why they react like that to a majority of their decisions.

You take their romance-route explanations of how they act, and apply those to earlier decisions. Astarion's confession to manipulating you and Araj-prompted admittance to using himself as a tool brings to light how he reacts to your decisions, regardless of his actual opinions on them. Wyll's fairytale romance and love of poetic adages speaks to his idealistic nature, and why he takes a sometimes-blinded approach to decisions in which the "right" answer isn't always the smart one.

You take their beginning reactions to stress and use that to measure how future decisions impact them. Lae'zel locks down and gets snappy when she's scared, while Gale immediately turns to diplomacy. Shadowheart has gallows humor, while Wyll turns to quiet acceptance. If they break from these and seem even worse, you know the situation is more dire in their minds than having seven days to live.

And then you factor in all their fun facts and dialogue choices and backstories.

A wizard falls in love with a goddess and her magic, attempts to retrieve a piece of her power for her, is scorned for his attempt and is cursed to die.

Give that backstory to a Tav. Look at how it changes.

A chaotic good wizard fell in love with a goddess, thought retrieving a piece of power for her would be a showy bouquet of love, and was punished for not thinking things through.

A lawful evil wizard fell in love with a goddess's power, snatched the most precious thing she owned, tried to use it to barter his way through to the secrets she kept, and was given a swift retribution.

Same backstory. Same class, same act, same goddess. Wildly different connotations. Wildly different conclusions as to who is in the wrong.

If you take all there is to Gale, all that the game shows us makes up his character, and apply it to this backstory, you get what really happened:

A wizard, enamored with magic, fell in love with a goddess. His desires led him to want more than she was willing to give. In his well-buried fear of inadequacy, he concluded that the reason she wouldn't indulge his ambitions was because he just hadn't proven himself worthy enough. So he tried to prove himself, but he lacked the context for what he was proving himself with. And the goddess, seeing a weapon that had killed her predecessor, saw this ambitious wizard as losing his way and coming for her just like the weapon's creator had. She was angry, she withdrew his link to her, and he didn't know why. So he drew the conclusion that she took his powers to punish him, and let that encompass his fall from grace.

Was he wrong to reach for what was out there?

If you knew that the answers to everything you cared about were not only known, but kept by someone you loved—someone who adored you—what would you do to ask to see them? What if your curiosities were if there were other planets with life out there, or how dark matter worked, or whether or not we could one day travel in the stars? What if it was the potential cure to an illness that's little-understood, or the way to make a program you dreamt up, or the scope of the true limits of your artistic talents? Would your answer change?

Was she wrong to cut him off?

If you were once hurt, and the person you loved—the person who adored you—brought the thing that caused it to your door, believing you'd want it, how would you react to seeing it? What if that thing was someone you thought you'd broken contact with, like a friend or family member you'd been trying to avoid? Would your answer change?

That's the sort of scope that needs to be applied to this, on both sides. You have to take the perspectives of each party, and apply two analogies instead of one.

Gale saw the vastness of the universe, untold wonders, the solution to every question he could ever dream up, and saw Mystra as withholding this from him because she thought he just wasn't worthy enough. To claim Mystra knew his perspective does her a disservice.

Mystra saw a cruel weapon she thought long gone, in the hands of someone who could use it, brought right to her, and thought Gale was willingly following the path of Karsus. To claim Gale knew her perspective does him a disservice.

Should Gale have researched his prize more, so he knew just what he was obtaining? Should he have kept his hands off a cursed book that would devour him? Of course he should have.

Should he have given up on chasing his dreams?

Should Mystra have understood that Gale's pursuit of power was nothing like Karsus'? Should she have communicated when she was angry instead of giving the cold shoulder? Of course she should have.

Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt?

That's the root of their falling out. That's what leads to hurt being inflicted. Understandable, human reactions to the situations they perceive. Unhealthy, unwise choices made afterwards.

You work backwards from this to figure out their dynamic as Chosen and goddess. You work forward from this to understand more of where Gale and Mystra are during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Gale reached too high, and understands this. His goddess hates him, and he regrets this. Mystra isolated Gale, and understands this. Her Chosen wants redemption, and she wants to make it happen.

Just like we took Gale's character into account, we also have to take Mystra's.

A goddess is faced with a problem. She uses someone who's desperate for approval to solve it, by telling him to kill himself.

An evil goddess is faced with a threat to her reign. She sees someone who's unfailingly loyal and hates himself, and elects to have him tear himself apart rather than do anything about it.

A good goddess is terrified of the future. She sees someone who tried to hurt her, who's going to die anyways, and tells him to use it to save the world.

Same story. Same act, same power, same pawn. Different character. Different perspective. Different outlook on whether or not this is the right thing to do.

Mystra has died, multiple times, to people trying to stake claim to her domain. Someone appears with the very thing that could do it again, right as she's regained her stability.

She does not see mortals the way mortals do. She is timeless. She is eternal. She has a duty to protect billions of people, and one person lost to protect that number is more than worth the sacrifice.

People like to bring up the Seven Sisters as proof of Mystra's cruelty. For those unaware, Mystra asked permission to, then possessed, a woman, used her to court a man (with dubious consent from the woman), and bore seven children, all of whom were capable of bearing Mystra's power as Chosen without dying. The woman she possessed was killed in the process (reduced to no more than a husk, then slain by her now-husband, hoping to end her suffering), and the husband was horrified by the whole story.

Mystra needed Chosen in order to restore herself in the event that she was killed again, to prevent magic as a whole from collapsing and wreaking havoc on the mortal realm, like it had in the few seconds Mystryl had been dead. Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff, and the Seven Sisters contributed to this. The more Chosen she has, the better; what happens if Elminster dies? She can't afford to have all her eggs in one basket.

Mystra has Volo (yeah, that Volo) as a Weave Anchor, imparted with a portion of her power to prevent the Weave from shredding itself to pieces in her absence. All Chosen of Mystra are Weave Anchors by nature. The creation of Weave Anchors was mandated by Ao, the Overgod, and Chosen are the best way to make sure those anchors aren't drained by ambitious people hoping for godlike power. Chosen can, and will, defend themselves, unlike static locations (which Mystra also has). The anchors are why the Weave wasn't completely obliterated during Mystra's last death, when the Spellplague rose up, because they stabilized the Weave around them.

Everything Mystra does is in the name of the big picture, to prevent a catastrophe like the fall of Netheril from happening again. Her restriction of magic, her numerous Chosen, her creation of Weave Anchors, her destruction of those who would claim her power, it's all in the name of the stability she's been charged with. Dornal Silverhand's grief and Elué Silverhand's death, while regrettable, were worth it to bring seven more anchors into existence to save all of the Material.

So someone appears with the Crown of Karsus, potentially powerful enough to try to kill the other gods in the name of the Dead Three. She can't risk being a target of them. She can't risk the destruction of magic again.

Gale is going to die. He lives in fear. He begs for forgiveness.

In Mystra's eyes, she's offering him the best outcome. She'll let him die in service to her, to save Faerûn, and she'll forgive him. He's going to die anyways, and if he does this, she'll give him everything (she thinks) he could ever want in her realm. She's asking him to do what (she thinks) is the right thing.

"She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness."

Notably, she leaves the decision in his hands. She doesn't have Elminster lead him to the Nether Brain. She doesn't activate him as soon as he's there. When he lives yet, she doesn't revoke the charm that keeps him stable. And when he declines, when he lets it go and starts pursuing Karsus' path, she doesn't smite him on the spot.

She is (she thinks) being incredibly patient. If Gale is going to try to be Karsus II, she's ready for him. If he decides to walk off and keep the Orb, he's dug his own grave in the Fugue Plane (those who don't have a god to claim them roam endlessly as husks and form a wall of bodies around the City of Judgement).

From her perspective, she's not being unreasonable. But from the perspective of a mortal, she absolutely is.

"Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

This is a question she cannot answer properly.

I think a lot of characterization is lost whenever someone paints one of them as being totally in the right. But I also think you have to be invested in them as characters to want to see that characterization. If you want to write about Mystra, you have to try to get into her head, analyze the decisions she made, figure out why she thinks she was right, and follow the pattern.

Gale's sacrifice is a very predictable thing for her to ask for.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #long post #like really long post holy hells #did not expect this to go on for this long #swearing tw #< for karlach #oh yeah #astarion #karlach #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel #ask bee

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whiskeyghoul · 25 days

Text

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!reader] Pt.3

Read pt1 here, previous chapter, next chapter.

A/N: Hello hello, we are finally to the unofficial first date hehe. This is a bit of a longer one because somehow I kept on writing. So once again this is not proofread. I don’t know yet how many parts this story is going to be, because I just want to continue this for as long as I can. I have some ideas for some more future angst that I want to start setting up to keep it interesting. Anyways, enjoy the read. If you do please like, reblog or comment. If you want to be added to my tag list let me know.

WC:2,5K

Tags: Fluff, sweet fluff, two idiots in love, goth!reader, alt!reader, coffee date, but is it really a date, both are flustered messes.

Warnings: Discussions of murder. Nothing worse than in criminal minds itself.

Spencer POV

Spencer stood in front of the lab door again. Hearing the music pour from the cracks, Siouxsie and the banshees again. A familiar situation. Only this time he felt even more nervous than he had before. There was a cup holder in his left hand, the two steaming beverages balanced equally. The smell of cinnamon and coffee filled his nostrils as he took a deep breath. Trying to calm down his racing heart. It had been 4 days since he first called you. 4 Days of wanting to get back to Quantico as quickly as possible so he could bring you the coffee you wanted. He called you every day, short calls at the end of the day right before he’d go to bed. He felt giddy when talking to you, and would go to sleep thinking of when he’d get back. He finally returned late last night, the office was already empty and there was no sign of you to be seen. So he had gone home, planning to get out and get coffee early in the morning. That left him here, in front of your lab.

As Spencer stood, staring at your name plaque next to the frosted glass door, he felt like he might be going too fast. Coming on too strong perhaps. He didn’t have time to worry about it though when the door in front of him opened. The music turned louder as you came into view. Beaming at him, “Were you planning to come in, or what?” Your voice sounded so melodic to him. Sweet, warm, and slightly teasing. “You saw me?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “It’s frosted glass, I knew there was someone waiting. From the height I suspected it was you.” You answered with a shrug. Spencer did notice the slight pink tinge that dusted your cheeks at those words. The way you avoided eye contact for a moment. You were embarrassed. If only just a little. “I got your coffee.” He held out the holder with the two cups, watching you perk up at the sight of the coffee. “Come in, we can sit together.” You answered him, taking the coffee cup marked with cinnamon. Spencer smiled, he quickly fixed his hair when you turned around, following into the lab. You still wore an almost completely black outfit, this time a skirt that hit just above your knee, large black platform boots made you taller than before. He had noticed this time you wore a ripped shirt, still with a logo on the front that he did not recognise.

The music was turned down to a mild background noise. Spencer watched you place the little remote on the desk before you sat on the wooden surface. Turning the chair like an invitation for him to sit. His eyes wandered to your legs, the skirt riding up slightly exposing more of those gorgeous thighs. He quickly placed his bag on the ground, before he took his seat forcing his eyes to your face. He didn’t want to feel like a pervert staring at your thighs. The position causes Spencer to have to look slightly up at you, in turn you smiled at him after taking a sip of your drink. He turned slightly side to side in the swivel chair, a nervous energy overtaking him. His knee bumping into your leg softly. He usually was so full of words, but in your presence he was once again speechless. “How was the case?” You spoke up first, breaking the relative silence that had been over taking. Spencer's eyes wandered to his hands in his lap, where he held the cup a little awkwardly.

“Oh, it was a bit more difficult than expected.” He tried to find his voice, still feeling a little tongue tied around you. “There was a group of male bodies found in more of a ritualistic setting in a warehouse. Laid out with their heads towards each other in a cross like fashion, all dressed in white, and with myrrh found on their hands. At first we thought of ritual killings, after learning they were all members of the parish it seemed most likely…” When Spencer looked up and saw you were watching him with undivided attention he was surprised. Normally when he rambled people were either bored or cut him off quickly because it was an inconvenience to them. Yet it seemed to him you weren’t inconvenienced at all. He stopped, feeling his heartbeat pick up again.

“But it wasn’t a ritual killing? Was it made to look like one then?” You asked him. Your interest in the story was clear to him. You were leaning slightly closer, towards him, the smell of cinnamon mingling with your perfume was a little distracting to him. “It was but not really intentionally I suppose.” He continued to explain the case. He had managed to find his voice, describing what happened, how they managed to track down the unsub, and how the killing was done by a former church member who wanted to expose the victims for their wrong doings. When you would interject with questions he had time to sip his coffee. Slowly but surely the cup grew colder, the coffee becoming less likable with each sip but he didn’t seem to mind as much. So he moved closer to the desk, in turn slotting his knees around your right calf, before placing the coffee cup on the desk. He preferred this, being close to you. Enjoyed the way you were listening to him and showing interest.

“What was it like here?” Spencer asked after he answered your last question about the myrrh, changing the subject to you. He wanted to know how you spent your time, wanted to know what you liked. The idea of learning more about your hobbies and interests had taken up residence in his head. The entire time he had been away there was just this difficulty focussing on the case. Hotch had even called him out on his lack of focus, remarking that he had been unfocused and to get some shut eye if he had a difficulty due to lack of sleep. Instead he had gone back and picked up his phone to look at your number. Debating to call, scared you wouldn’t pick up. When you did hang up the first time he felt a little defeated, his heart was beating out of his chest. However, still feeling like he needed to try again, he hit the call button again. When you did pick up that time, and your voice rang out through the speaker on his phone, relief washed over him. Starting to ramble on as he tried to find the right words to explain how he felt. His heartbeat was still a mess, his head an even worse one. That was until you had explained you had given him his number because you wanted him to call. Suddenly, he could think again.

“Oh, it was fine. When you called I was over at Pen’s place, maybe she told you about it. Other than that it was pretty normal. Currently I am still working on some tests on the stomach contents of a presumed poison victim. I did get something interesting. Do you want to see?” Your smile was infectious as you placed a now empty coffee cup next to Spencer’s discarded one. Spencer watched enamored at your shift, the excitement washing over you showing just how special this thing was. That apparently it had made your week. "Of course." He answered, delighting in getting to know just a little of what you enjoyed. Spencer watched as you hopped off the desk, suddenly standing so close to him. He really looked up at you, taking a deep breath to take in that intoxicating perfume. You were practically straddling one of his legs as you stood there. He was scared to move, just in case he touched something he wasn't supposed to. His heart beating out of his chest, he could swear he could feel the heat from your skin through the fabric of his pants.

The moment was short lived when you moved a step back and around. Making your way to one of the many cabinets that lined the wall. Some with warning stickers only alluding to the dangers of the content. The one you walked to didn't have any of those labels on them, it was lower than most other cabinets picking up what looked like a frame. He watched you, the way your hips swayed did something to him. Spencer averted his eyes before he got off of the chair, walking over towards you. “It came in yesterday after you called. Maybe you find it a little weird so don't freak okay.” You looked back over your shoulder. Spencer's heart skipped a little, for some reason when you looked over your shoulder the light hit just right, making you glow. All he could think about was wanting to be close to you then. How wonderful you looked. More importantly, how soft your lips looked.

“I won't, I have seen a lot of weird things.” Spencer promised. Taking a few steps closer so he was a foot or 2 away from you. His face was still feeling warm as the urge to be close continued to brew. “You probably have.” you turned to face him as you spoke, still holding the box with the glass facing your body. “So, my favorite books of all time are the Hannibal books. I know… predictable. But they are wonderful books.” you turned the box and Spencer was faced with a beautiful death’s head hawk moth, pinned up against a dark blue background. He smiled a little, having you excited over a moth that was on the cover of your favorite book. He had to file that away for later. “I saw someone sell it online, and just had to have it.” You sounded a little embarrassed. He could see the small flush return to your cheeks. “It's a beautiful specimen.” He answered, “Did you know they squeak when distressed?” He added, unable to stop himself from fact sharing. “I do now.” The smile you wore made him want to lean in, want to kiss you. It was overwhelming. So he bit his lip, not wanting to do something to scare you away. This was new.

You turned away from him, placing the pinned moth back on the small cabinet. Spencer took a step even closer without even thinking. When you turned around you looked surprised, head tilting up to look him in the eyes. He took note of the little breath you took in, how your eyes lingered on his face as your surprise faded away. Just like you had done that first meeting. The mood shifted from nervous excitement to something more intimate. “Spencer?” The way you said his name made his mind go stupid, he could listen to you saying his name over and over again for all eternity. “Yeah?” He said it softly, not sure if you really wanted an answer, or if he even had the brain capacity to answer you coherently. “You’re staring.” The tease in your tone was clear as day. Yet you spoke so softly, with your cheeks dusted in pink. “So are you.” He whispered back. His heart was beating out of his chest. "Touche." You whispered back. With how close you were, the mingle of cinnamon and cherry was too much. He couldn’t think any more. His hand was itching to reach up, to cup your cheeks as he would kiss you.

Spencer’s mind wandered with the idea of how your lips would taste. Obviously the cinnamon would be there, but what else. He wanted to find out. Wanted to kiss you until the coffee was gone and he could just taste you. How his hands would course through your soft hair, or hold your head as he kissed you. Then again he wanted his hands to hold your thighs, the ones which were so enticing to him. The feeling of your soft skin under his fingers, the idea made his mouth water. So, he gently moved his hand up, his fingertips gently caressing your cheek. Your skin was as soft as he expected, maybe even slightly more so. You were warm, flushed and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Wanting to drink up every little reaction, every movement and intake of breath. “Spencer.” You breathed his name. Another eruption of butterflies in his stomach. “Is this okay?” he asked, tucking a small piece of hair behind your ear. It was as smooth as he envisioned.

You nodded your head, eyes still transfixed on his face. It was cute, Spencer thought, the way you were suddenly the one at a loss for words. How both of you seemed to be so affected by each other. He moved his hand again, placing it where your jaw met your neck, he could feel your heartbeat racing under your skin. A smile tugged at his lips. He was about to lean in, to press his lips softly to yours, unable to resist the urge, when suddenly an alarm rang throughout the lab. Pulling him from the intimate moment. A little resentful of the equipment interrupting him. He watched you close your eyes and breathe out through your nose almost with a sigh. “I have to get that. If I don’t I might not get accurate readings on the toxicology.” You looked a little disappointed. Spencer felt just a little pleased at that. “I understand, my team is probably wondering where I am too.” He responded, taking a step back and allowing you space. He was surprised when you placed your hands on his shoulders, “lean down a little.” He did as you asked, leaning down until his face was almost level with yours. You tipped up onto your toes, the platforms making you at eye level with him.

You smiled, quickly planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He felt his cheeks flush as his brain went blank as his senses just filled with you. “There, that will have to do for now.” You spoke as you pulled away. Spencer was wide eyed but he felt his lips curve into a dopey smile. “It will, for now.” He answered. “You better wash that off before you go back to the bullpen.” You were referencing the lipstick stain on his cheek most likely. “I might want to keep it.” He knew that Derek would tease him for it. It would be a reminder of you though. Of your lips on his skin. “Hmm, don’t blame me for the relentless teasing you will undergo if you do.” You grinned before turning to head to the beeping machine. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer said and you looked back over your shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” You called back before getting to work on the tox screen.

Before Spencer returned to the bullpen he made a quick stop at the mens restroom, taking out his small phone and snapping a picture of your lipstick mark on his cheek. A reminder for later. Before he washed it off with reluctance. He was already looking forward to tomorrow.

Tag list: @depressedbutartsy @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #tumblr writer #dr spencer reid #alt reader #goth reader #first date #part 3 #she blinded me with science

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literaryavenger · 3 months

Text

Back To You - Steve Rogers

Summary: You've always been there for Steve, and now you're watching him go back to the girl he always wanted.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Maybe language. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This was supposed to be a Reader x Steve story, but I was too tempted to make reader end up with Bucky. So I decided to make two separate endings, the original with Steve and an alternate one where she ends with Bucky, if only for @ordelixx who gave me the idea. I'd also like to thank @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for the idea and for helping me write about other characters.

Masterlist

You know what’s about to happen. You know he’s gonna leave, you know he’s not gonna come back, you know you’ll never see him again.

You know he’s gonna try to have the life he always wanted with the girl he always wanted. The girl he loves.

And that girl is not you.

You watch him as he says goodbye to Bucky, you know he knows as well as you do that his best friend isn’t coming back.

Then Steve turns to you and you try your best to smile.

“I wish I had met you earlier.” he whispers as he kisses you on the forehead and you know in that instant this is really goodbye.

You smile and nod, not being able to get a word out, willing yourself not to cry.

He walks onto the platform and soon he’s gone.

You’ve been by Steve’s side ever since he came back from the ice. You were the agent assigned to watch over him, you were there when he woke up and had to run after him when he freaked out.

You were there during the battle of New York, during the fall of Shield in DC, during the whole Ultron incident and in Lagos.

You were on his side for the Accords, and you were by his side in London as he said goodbye to the love of his life.

You were there with him and Sam in Romania to try and help Bucky, you were arrested with them and then helped fight the Winter Soldier, yet again.

You were on his side to fight against Tony and the rest of the Avengers, you got arrested again and were broken out of the Raft by him.

You spent two years on the run with him, and fought next to him in Wakanda.

You watched his dumb ass try to fight Thanos barehanded and you were quickly knocked down when you tried to help him.

You snapped like half the universe and apparently lost 5 years of your life. You came back, thanks to him, and fought against Thanos one last time.

And now you're watching him leave.

You were there to help him get accustomed to the 21st century, you were there for him on sleepless nights.

You were there for him as he cried for his lost friends, his lost love and his lost life. He always came to you when he needed to talk, to be held, help sleeping and even advise.

And you were always there for him, falling in love little by little against your better judgement.

You’re brought back to the present as you hear Sam freaking out on Bruce because Steve missed his mark and didn’t come back.

You look at Bucky and you both know what this means. He gives you a sympathetic smile and you try to give a smile back but fail.

You look away from him and take a deep breath. You turn around and start walking away.

You’re done here, and about to break down. Something you never allowed yourself to do in front of anybody, with the exception of Steve.

And now he’s gone.

You get in your car and quickly drive away, not looking back. You drive straight to Steve’s apartment.

You’ve been staying there since you came back while the compound gets fixed since your old apartment has been someone else’s home for the past 5 years.

Five years. That’s how long you’ve been gone. That’s how much of life you’ve missed.

And now you’re left to pick up the pieces of your life by yourself, along with your broken heart.

If you were completely honest with yourself you always knew it wouldn’t have worked with Steve. You’ve never thought you were remotely good enough for him, and that was before even comparing yourself to Peggy.

There was no doubt in your mind that she was Steve’s soulmate, and you’ve talked about her enough times to know he thought the same.

- Original Ending -

You’re taken out of your thoughts by a knock on your door. You frown and cautiously walk to it, picking up your gun from its hiding place under the coffee table.

It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry, right?

You take a peek from the peephole and frown even more when you see that whoever’s on the other side of the door covered it.

You ready your gun and take a deep breath, your hand on the doorknob. You open and lose no time pointing right in front of you, but you almost drop your gun along with your jaw when you see who’s standing there.

You almost feel like you’re dreaming so you pinch yourself, which makes him laugh and when that sound hits your ears you know you’re not hallucinating either.

Steve Rogers, the same face you’ve always known, standing right in front of you.

For a moment neither of you say anything, then he decides that maybe you’re too in shock to talk so he breaks the silence.

“I’ve never knocked on my own door before. That was a wild ride.” He laughs again and at the sound you can’t help but let the tears you’ve been trying so hard to keep in fall.

The moment he sees the first tear Steve’s face falls and then he’s wrapping his arms around you, your face buried in his chest.

You slowly bring your own arms to wrap around his waist, almost worried that if you make any sudden moves he’s gonna disappear.

Once your arms are around him too, you realize it’s all real and he’s actually there and you let yourself go, crying your eyes out and clinging to him.

Suddenly, he picks you up and you hang onto him for dear life as he carries you back inside the apartment, closing the front door and then goes to sit on the couch with a still crying you on his lap.

He does nothing more than run his hand through your hair, rubbing your back with the other and letting you get it all out.

After a few minutes you start to calm down and finally get your voice back. “I thought you were gone forever.”

Of all the reactions he could’ve had, he surprises you with the only one you don't expect by chuckling. “You never were very patient, were you, sweetheart?”

You look up at him and frown, sniffling and softly say “What do you mean? You were gone… Bruce said you missed your mark.”

He nods and wipes away the rest of your tears while he talks. “I did. I put the wrong time by mistake. You know me and technology.”

“But… You and Peggy…” your frown is still in place, just not being able to believe that he came back.

Did you read the signs wrong? Was he always planning on coming back? Almost like he can read your mind, he starts giving you some answers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Once I was done returning the stones, I knew I had a chance to go back to the 40s and I was gonna take it. I thought I wanted to take it. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” You ask in a whisper.

“Because of you, doll.” He says without missing a beat with a sweet smile. “All I could think about was you. Your smile, your laugh, your strength. The way you tried so hard to be happy for me even though you thought I was leaving forever. The mere thought of not seeing you, not talking to you, not having you by my side, it killed me.”

You’re almost crying again, but you make yourself talk, needing clarification, your voice still quiet. “What are you saying, Steve?”

“I’m saying, there is no me and Peggy. It’s me and you. It’s been me and you from day one.” He takes your face in his hands and leans in more, your faces only inches apart. “And I’m an idiot for taking this long to figure it out. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Can you forgive me?”

You swallow down the tears threatening to fall again and waste no time before nodding, maybe a little too eagerly but you don’t really care, and he doesn’t seem to mind either judging by his smile.

“I forgive you, Steve.” The words are barely out of your mouth before Steve is leaning in the rest of the way and kissing you.

You kiss back without thinking twice about it and after a few seconds you pull back, big goofy smiles on both your faces.

You spent the rest of the afternoon like this, cuddling and talking and just enjoying each other’s company.

You didn’t do much, it wasn’t much different from the endless number of days you spent together, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was the best day of your life.

And even if you didn’t know it, Steve was thinking the exact same thing.

After all, what is better than spending the day cuddling with the girl he always needed? The girl he loves.

And that girl is you.

- Alternative Ending -

You’re taken out of your thoughts by a knock on your door. You frown and cautiously walk to it, picking up your gun from its hiding place under the coffee table.

It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry, right?

You take a peek from the peephole and immediately roll your eyes, lowering your gun while opening the door.

“I guess you weren’t expecting company.” Bucky says, more amused than anything when he sees the gun in your hand.

You make no attempt to try and hide your annoyance as you roll your eyes again. “What are you doing here, Barnes?”

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you just don’t know him all that well if not only thanks to the stories Steve shared of him in the 40s.

“I thought I’d make sure you were okay. You ran out of there pretty fast.”

“Yeah, well, he’s gone. It’s a done deal, don’t see why I had to stick around.” You say crossing your arms defensively.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind your response as he simply leans on the doorway and keeps talking. “He was disappointed not to see you.”

You frown, beyond confused by a single and simple sentence. Bucky smiles and elaborates. “He lived a life. And he’s old now, but still alive.”

“Oh.” is all you can say. Steve old? You can’t even imagine it.

“He gave the shield to Sam.” Bucky continues, just making conversation.

“Really? I would’ve thought he’d give it to you if he had to choose.” Bucky frowns a little and tilts his head, seeming genuinely confused.

“Why would he give it to me?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, you were his best friend, you’re a supersoldier. I guess I just assumed.”

“None of that matters, Sam is a good man. He deserves it.” He argues, then quickly adds. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

You grin and nod, then say. “For what it’s worth you’re a good man too, Bucky. Steve thought the world of you, trust me. He never stopped thinking highly of you.”

That was nothing more than a simple reassurance for you, but for Bucky it was so much more than that.

He knew you were talking about his time as the Winter Soldier. You were telling him that, even knowing about all that, Steve never let that influence his opinion of his former best friend. He still knew who Bucky was, deep down.

Bucky never heard words like that coming from anyone that’s not Steve, and you said it so casually, like you really believe it and to you it’s no big deal to just say it.

But for him, it was everything.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment Bucky started falling for you.

“Why are you checking up on me, Bucky? Really?” You say after a moment, breaking the silence that fell between you.

“Steve made me promise to take care of you before he left.” He said simply.

Bucky didn’t know it then, but that was the moment your heart broke completely.

You managed to keep yourself from breaking right then and there, but Bucky could see that something was wrong.

He didn’t push it though, making conversation a little more before saying goodbye with the promise that he’d be back the next day.

And that’s what he did.

In fact, he came back everyday, no matter what, to check on you.

It started out as quick visits where he wouldn’t even enter the door, then you started inviting him in for coffee because you felt bad he came to Steve’s apartment everyday, always refusing to let you meet him somewhere else.

After a while you started inviting him for meals, to watch a movie or just to hang out.

You almost didn’t know how, but at one point you started to really look forward to Bucky’s visits everyday, getting excited every time he knocked on the door.

It was the best part of your day, really.

You knew Bucky felt the same, it was like you both knew what was slowly happening between you and you had a silent understanding not to discuss it.

You also never discussed your feelings for Steve, but you felt like Bucky somehow knew nonetheless.

But the more time you spent with Bucky the more those feelings seemed to fade.

You still loved Steve, still missed him, you could feel yourself letting go of him with every time you spent time with Bucky, every time he made you laugh, every time your hands would accidentally touch.

You could feel yourself falling in love with Bucky and, this time, it felt right. This time you didn’t even try to stop it.

And it seemed like Bucky felt the same way.

Time after time he became more bold with his flirting, with physical touch, until eventually he was shamelessly hitting on you and cuddling you every time he could.

And, when you made no attempt whatsoever to stop him, it was the only signal he needed to keep going.

One day, after about a year of his daily visits, he couldn’t hold back anymore and kissed you, overjoyed when you kissed him back. He asked you out right after and you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

It was the best first date of your life, but to be fair you’d been hanging out and basically dating for almost a year, so it felt simple. Effortless and uncomplicated.

It was everything both of you needed. Your feelings for Steve were almost gone now, which is why you couldn’t even begin to explain what happened yesterday.

You were out with Bucky, hand in hand as you walked around the park, just enjoying the sunshine, when you could swear you saw Steve, not old Steve but your Steve, just standing there, looking at you and Bucky.

It was for a second, you merely glanced in his direction and by the time you turned back he was gone.

Bucky didn’t notice anything, if not only the way you tensed and stopped in your tracks.

You thought about telling him what you thought you saw, but even you knew how crazy you would’ve sounded. So you said nothing and shrugged it off.

Because it was nothing.

Right?

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shadowtriovibes · 8 months

Text

the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #IT'S AN OFF TO HOGWARTS KIDFIC TADA

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monzabee · 8 months

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sunday blues – ms47 (+18)

masterlist || part 1 || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where Mick helps you the best way he knows when you’re feeling insecure.

Pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, crying, cursing, fluff, insecurities and self-depreciating thoughts, smut, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), google translate german, praise words, minors dni!!

Request: “Hello! I am so obsessed with your recent fic with Mick and Seb's daughter, so I was wondering if you could write something where she is feeling very insecure and stressed and he just kind of helps her through her feelings, maybe something smutty to show her how much he lovers her body or something?👀”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this request has been sitting in my inbox for longer than i’d like to admit, but i’m so happy i got it done! it’s been a while since i wrote smut so if it doesn’t make sense i sincerely apologise, but as always thank you to the anon for the request and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Mick didn’t expect to find you the way he did when he was leaving your flat to take Angie on her morning walk, he really didn’t – because when he was leaving this morning, after having kissed you goodbye while you were still asleep, everything seemed fine. And although he is not the one to stress in these type of situations, his mind automatically goes to the worst possible scenario when he comes home to you crying on your couch in your bathrobe. So he does the expected, he asks whether you hurt yourself – the answer is no. Did something happen to anyone from your family? Nu-uh. Is it social media related? Nope. Did someone physically did something to you? No Mick, you locked the door before you left the house.

Every possible question that comes to his mind being met with a negative answer from you has him perplexed to say the very least, so he takes a seat next to you and offers what he’s sure will put you in a better mood; cuddles. With you in his arms and Angie on your lap, you do feel better, but he makes sure to ask any other possible option that comes to his mind.

“Did you try to bake cookies again?” His voice wanders off, his fingers running through the ends of your braid.

You lightly punch his arm, and then return your attention back to petting Angie as you pout and mumble out, “My cookies were not burnt, they were lightly toasted.”

He lets out a sigh, and after pressing numerous kisses to your hair to coax you, he gently raises your chin up for you to meet his eyes. “I give up, please just tell me what’s bothering you, hase.”

There’s a fresh wave of tears accumulating in your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks, and it absolutely makes his heart clench. You lightly push yourself out of his arms, careful not to disturb the dog sprawled on both of you guys’ lap, “Nothing, you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“No I won’t,” he promises, fighting you in order to gather you back into his arms, but you’re not above fighting dirty – meaning using your nails to keep him away. “Are–” He takes a moment to pause and clear his throat, “Are you on your period?”

Mick watches as your lips part and a sound of indignation break free from the back of your throat. Without bothering Angie too much, you turn in your place to swat at his chest as you hiss, “You are an ass, Mick.”

“Bu– I didn’t mean –” He scrambles to get out, but you’re already walking towards your bathroom, and all he can do is watch you walk away from him. This time, his eyes meet Angie’s, and he can swear his dog is giving him the biggest side-eye known to mankind, but he can only breath out a, “I messed that one up big time, didn’t I?”

Angie gets up from his lap to walk towards the bedroom. Mick soon follows closely behind towards the bathroom.

You can hear his knocks and a faint Can I come in?, through the closed bathroom door, but as you try to tame the mess that is your hair, you call out to him, “No!” And because Mick is a gentleman, and arguably the best boyfriend in the universe, he actually waits outside the bathroom. Eventually, though, you feel bad making him wait outside by the door and with a final glance in the mirror, you stomp a few steps and push the bathroom door open, revealing Mick's concerned face.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, but before he can continue with the rest of his sentence, you cut him off with yet another swat of your hand to his chest and another fresh wave of tears.

“I am not, and I repeat – not, on my period.” With a final hit to his chest, you walk back to your previous spot in front of the sink and try to brush the knots in your hair.

Wincing at the way you’re aggressively dragging the brush through your hair, Mick walks towards you to stand behind you at the sink and gently takes the brush out of your hand. “Here, let me do it.” And though you don’t want to admit, he’s gentle yet successful as he brushes your hair out for you. With his eyes occasionally drifting to watch you over the bathroom mirror, he dutifully manages to finish brushing your hair, and soon after you are back in his arms as he wraps them around your middle. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

You shake your head with another sniffle, “It’s not important.”

“Hase, please,” he practically begs as his attention is drawn to your puffy eyes, “it is important if you’re still crying over it.”

With a guilty look on your face and an apprehensive voice that absolutely breaks his heart, you mumble, “You really want to know?” This time it is you who is meeting his eyes through the mirror to see him nod sheepishly, and as you occupy yourself with his fingers you find yourself mumbling again, “My, uh, my boobs are too small.”

“Your what, is what?” Mick stammers in surprise, blinking at the unexpected confession. His expression shifts from confusion to realization, and his fingers tangle themselves with yours. “Hase, are you serious?”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, embarrassed by your own admission. “Yes, and don’t call me that.”

“What?” With more confusion he stammers out, “I– I thought you liked it, it’s cute.”

He watches you let out a soft whimper, and then throw your head back against his chest in frustration. After sniffling and, yet, another fresh wave of tears, which Mick quickly wipes away as he keeps his gaze locked to yours, “I’m not supposed to be cute.”

“Oh?” he asks, “And what are you supposed to be, then?”

“I don’t know!” The sudden sob breaking out from the back of your throat has his eyes widening in surprise, and also concern – but for the first time that morning, you seem to be talking about what’s been wrong, so he has no intention to interrupt you. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be anymore! I can’t be too perfect or too flawed, too confident or too uncertain; people have opinions and they are not afraid to voice them, so I end up feeling not enough for the majority of time.” Mick’s hold tightens around as you let out a particularly violent sob, “And my boyfriend has bigger boobs than me!”

Mick's eyes widen in both surprise and disbelief as your last sentence tumbles out, and for a moment, there's a pause in the air as he processes your words. “So you’re sad, because you think your boobs are not big enough?”

“Well yeah,” you mumble, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious under his gaze. “I told you you’d think it’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Mick announces, “everybody gets insecure sometimes; what I don’t understand is why on earth you would compare yourself like that.” Mick's fingers gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, and he turns you towards himself to lift your chin up, “You’re perfect the way you are, hase.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words slowly starting to sink in. “I just don’t want to feel like this all the time.”

“I know, darling,” he coos and then offers you a gentle smile, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your cheek. “You’re perfect, you hear me? My perfect girl, hm?” He ignores a whiny objection in the form of you dragging out his name. “The kindest,” he leans in towards you, “and the smartest,” then presses his lips against your forehead, “the most beautiful girl inside and out.”

“Micki,” his names comes off from your lips in a whispery sigh, your head turning sideways as his nose nudges your jaw. His warm breath tickles your skin as he continues to nuzzle against your jaw, his lips brushing over your skin in gentle, feather-light kisses. His lips stretch when you let out a soft giggle, “It tickles.”

Mick's lips curve into a playful smile against your jaw, and he continues to pepper your skin with those feather-light kisses, this time intentionally causing a cascade of giggles from you. His touch is tender, his affection evident in each sweet gesture.

“It does, doesn't it?” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he moves his kisses to your cheek.

You squirm slightly in his embrace, the ticklish sensation mixed with delight. “Baby, stop,” you manage to say between giggles, even as your fingers find their way to his sides, retaliating with a gentle poke.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” With a final loving peck to your cheek, Mick relents and holds you closer to himself as your giggles slowly subside. As your giggles subside, Mick tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with tenderness, lock onto yours, and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “Feeling better?” he asks softly.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you give him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll be fine, Micki, I promise.” Ignoring the look he gives you, which tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say, you reach up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being here, you know?”

“Of course, hase,” he mumbles in thought, the material of your robe feeling soft under his touch as he lets the cogs turn in his head. With his eyebrows furrowing, he grabs you by the waist and raises you up to sit you on the bathroom counter. “On the second hand, I think I need to show you just how much I appreciate you, hm?” Ignoring yet another objecting sound from your lips, he places a kiss on the juncture of where your jaw meets your neck, and moves his kisses down until he’s met with your robe again. With a playful glint in his eyes, he lets his fingers work the knot of your robe’s belt.

His eyes widen as his brain registers the fact that you are not wearing anything underneath the robe, and you reply to his flabbergasted look with an innocent shrug of your shoulders as you give him the excuse, “I was about to take a shower before I… well, had a moment.”

You watch as a string of expletives leave his lips, and he needs to take a moment to recover as he mumbles, “Guter Gott.” Though, as your breathy giggles bring him back to the present, he pushes your robe off your shoulders in a quick move, and you realise there is a much darker look in his eyes when your eyes meet again, “And you think my girls are not enough.”

Before you can answer, his hands are quick to grab your breasts as he gives them a firm squeeze, causing you to forget whatever clever comeback you had and instead let out a shallow exhale. “They’re small,” you complain, but he is quick to shut you down by pinching your left nipple between his two fingers – not enough to make it actually hurt, but enough to shock you into shutting up and letting out a small yelp instead.

“Stop talking,” the sharper undertone of his voice has you biting the corner of your bottom lip in anticipation, but his eyes soften as he looks at the bewildered look on your face. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he fixes you with his stare as his hands go back to gently handling your breasts, “I’m going to fuck you in front of this mirror so that you can see just how beautiful you are, and you’re not going to say a word unless it’s a moan or telling me to stop.”

With a slacked jaw you stare at your boyfriend, your sweet Mick who is soft and treats you as if you’re a china doll most of the time. But now, he looks at you with a stern look in his eyes, and the fact that they are a few shades darker than their normally baby-blue colour tells you that he means business. “Can you kiss me first?” Your voice is breathy, because everything about Mick makes it harder to breath harder, and the corner of his mouth rise in a small smirk as his brain registers the desperation in your voice. “Please.”

“How can I not when my pretty girl is being so well-mannered?” He watches as you straighten up in your place, which causes you to come closer to his face and he lets out a low chuckle. “Patience, baby,” he moves his hands to cup your face and his thumbs gently caress the tops your cheeks. He teases you by dipping his head until his lips are touching yours, and he lets out another chuckle when you chase his lips when he slightly pulls away. But deciding to alleviate you from your pain, he finally presses his lips against yours – though his kiss is nothing like his soft touch from mere moments ago.

His tongue explores your mouth as if he hasn’t kissed you a million times before, but his kiss is as bruising as they come. He draws all kinds of noises from you, with a single kiss, and it would be concerning how much you lose yourself in him if it wasn’t too good. You manage to nip at his lower lip just as he is starting to pull away.

“Gut sein,” he mumbles, the small (but accomplished) smile on your lips bringing a smile to his own. “Now, what do you say to me for the kiss, hm?”

Be good, he says – you can totally do that. His lips move down to your jaw to then your neck, and your lips form a perfect ‘O’ when he starts nipping and sucking on your skin. “Thank you for the kiss, Micki,” you mumble breathily, your hands grabbing his forearms to move his hands from your face back onto your breasts. He lets an appreciative hum as his hands go back to fondling the skin under his hands, which elicits a louder moan from your lips, “Oh, that feels good.”

Mick’s reply comes in the form of another hum as he keeps on sucking hickeys, which will undoubtedly make you complain to him tomorrow, but the way he handles you is enough to convince you not to care. After he’s satisfied with handiwork; he pulls back from your neck to only dip his head more to take one of your nipples to his mouth while his hand is busy groping the other breast, causing you to weave your fingers through his hair to press him closer to your chest. His ministrations, combined with his intention of marking up your chest as he did your neck has you ending up as a whimpering mess on the bathroom counter, calling out Mick’s name to do something more in hopes of him keeping his promise. His voice is husky as he asks, “Now do you believe me?”

Your hands are on him the second he pulls away and his breathing is a mess while you scramble to get off his shirt; your hands gliding across his chest down to the start of his running shorts he has from his morning run, and he has to restrain himself from letting out a groan as you sit in front of him with wide eyes and lips that are pink from all the biting. You voice is also husky as you answer his question with one of your own, “Are you going to fuck me now, liebste?”

He smiles sweetly at your attempt of trying to take back the reigns, and he tries to appear in though as he slowly pulls you off the counter. “In a second, I have to check something first.” He quickly turns you around to face the mirror, where you watch his hand’s movements as it slides from your waist down to the front of your sleeping shorts. The gasp that leaves from between your lips causes his sweet smile to morph into something more mischievous, and you catch his smirk on the mirror in front of you as he lets his fingers feel the wetness between your legs. “You’re soaked, hase, I think you’re more than ready.”

“Yes, please,” your voice comes off in a whimper as you slip your hand behind you to palm the bulge that presses onto your back through the material of his shorts that hang lower on his hips. You let out another moan when his fingers make their way towards your clit, which is his way of reminding you of who’s in charge – and it’s most definitely not you given the fact that you almost topple over the counter when he presses his fingers with slightly more pressure. You hear him let out a low groan when you move your hand slightly, but his fingers continue their movements which causes you to let out small mews of pleasure.

After he pulls his fingers out of your short, and consequently makes a show of licking them clean that leaves you quite literally panting with need. Smirking at your reaction, he taps the outside of your upper thigh, “Spread your legs, baby, watch me on the mirror, hm?” He makes sure to place your hands on the countertop after he’s done taking of the remainder of your clothing and underwear. A part of you is sure he’s secretly enjoying the attention and how good you’re being as you silently watch him ges out of his own shorts and underwear. “You ready?”

“Mhm-hm,” you mumble as you nod quickly and gather your hair on one of your shoulders.

Mick presses his lips on your bare shoulder as he grabs your waist with one of his hands, grabs the base of his cock with his free hand and guides it between your legs – a gasp leaves your lips as the tip of his cock presses into you. He’s slow as he guides the rest of his cock into your pussy, and you drag out his name under your breath. “So good,” he murmurs as his hand joins his other one on your hip, and he tries to keep his hips still to give you an opportunity to get used to it, “always feel so good for me.”

Your hands grab the marble tighter as the stretch has you wanting to just press your hips backwards against his, “Move, Micki, please.”

He meets your eyes through the mirror and chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby,” he repeats his words from before – but he obliges you nonetheless, as he pushes in all the way in a move that knocks all the breath out of your lungs. He is slow as he starts moving his hips in a steady rhythm. But soon he picks up the rhythm, and every snap of his hips to yours has you becoming more and more of a whimpering mess. His eyes capture your blush that is painting your cheeks and he lets his eyes wander lower where it has started to move towards your chest, which he’s more than welcome to adore the view of your breasts moving with every move his hips makes.

The moans that rip from the back of your throat become louder, stronger and more demanding as Mick decides to thrust himself deeper into you – a sweet reminder that you’ll definitely be feeling him for the rest of the day and all of tomorrow. You can’t seem to form sentences with words other than more, please and various forms of his name, but he grants you what you want when one of your hands leave the counter to pull him in for a kiss. It’s messy and rushed, but it leaves you lightheaded as you find yourself begging for more when he pulls away. “No, no, I want more,” a high-pitched whine begs, and you drag out the next word, “please.”

Mick lowers his head enough for his lips to be level with your ear. “Look into the mirror, hase,” his breath hits your skin, and he rewards you with a sweet smile, “you see what I see?”

“I don’t see you giving me another kiss,” you grumble, but quickly stop rebutting when his hips deliver a rather sharp push, “fuck, that feels good.”

“Look how beautiful you look,” he pants, his laboured breath hitting your ear, “the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” You’re sure your skin will be bruised from the way his fingers grabs onto your hips – not that it would look out of place with other parts of your body he’s already marked you on. “And you say you’re not enough, God, hase.”

Your hand snakes its way from his neck towards his hair as your fingers thread through his locks. “I need more, Micki, please.”

But unfortunately for you, Mick has every intention of ignoring your pleas. “Do you know why I call you hase?” Between the haze of him fucking you into the counter and his breathy words, you manage to give him a weak shake of your head. “It’s because I love seeing your tits when you’re bouncing on my cock.” To accentuate his point, he holds your hips in place as he delivers sharper thrusts.

“I thought it was because of the way I scrunch my nose,” you gasp while pulling at his hair. Though it is not exactly the part he chooses to focus on – instead, he watches as your already blushed cheeks become a deeper shade. Another gasp, this time laced with a louder moan, is ripped from you when he continues the sharper movement of his hips, “I– Mick, right there!”

“Shh, I got you,” he soothes your moans as he stills the movement of his hips for a minute to hike your left leg to rest it on the counter and then grabs the hand you have raised up to do the same, “hang on for me, okay?” He watches as you give him a tentative look through the mirror as he wraps his arm across your middle to reach for your clit as he harshly pushes himself back into you.

Combined with his thumb applying pressure onto your clit and the way he’s filling you up once again causes you to moan his name louder than before. “I’m not going to last,” the whiny words leave your lips before you can stop them, and he gives you a smirk as his fingers quicken their pace, “fuck, Micki, just like that.”

Lost in the pleasure building up in your lower stomach, you don’t realise his free hand moving up to cup your breast until he’s pinching your nipple between his fingers to draw out another moan from your lips, which sounds more like a scream because of all the please you’re feeling. “Do you see how beautiful you are? Look at yourself, baby.”

“Please Mick,” you let out a moan meddled with a sob as you watch your reflection in the mirror – the way your body is shaking with every movement of his hips and the way his front is pressed into your back, the disheveled look of your sweaty hair, and the way your wide eyes accompany your blushed cheeks, “make me come, please, I’m so close.” Your words must’ve acted as a source of motivation, since he quickens the pace of his hips and presses his thumb more as he continues the steady movements, which has you chanting out nothing but praises and a string of yes, yes, yes, yes.

Regardless of the condom he’s wearing, Mick can tell when you’re close as you clench around him, and he urges you to let go by mumbling into your skin, “It’s okay, hase, let it go.” And who are you to not give your boyfriend what he asks of you? So he’s there to guide you through your release while you sink your nails into his biceps to still yourself. He’s not far as he reaches his own peak and spills into you, which pulls yet another moan from you as you also hear his loud groan – a sound you’ll never get sick of hearing. You gasp lightly when he eventually pulls out of you; though when he sees the tired smile you give through the mirror (and yes, maybe he does call you hase because you do scrunch your nose while smiling), he responds with one of his own as he presses small kisses to your hairline, “There’s my smile.”

“I love you,” your raspy voice whispers, and suddenly you’re lost once again in the way he’s looking at you – a habit you’ll gladly keep.

“I love you too,” he responds, his nose nuzzling your jaw before giving you a sweet kiss, and it makes him chuckle lightly when you’re chasing his lips once again when he pulls away. “Come on, now we both need a shower.” The sounds of your giggles when he picks you up to get both of you into the shower, and as you hid your face in the crook of his neck you hear him mumble, “Mein hübsches mädchen.” My pretty girl.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher fluff

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minkyungseokie · 1 month

Text

When Nothing Goes Right | LS2

synopsis; Y/n, Logan's long-distance gf, surprises him at the AusGP, but things aren't as happy as they should be

warnings; none

note; requested

note 2; Y/n has no mentioned race but doesn't know English. Jackson is an Oc and the reader’s older brother

Let me know whether you prefer first person or third person pov Please be nice. I haven't written in years and this is my first time writing for F1

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Logan Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

It had been a few years since Y/n and Logan had begun dating. The two met as children after Y/n had started karting herself. They immediately hit off and stuck to each other like glue. Wherever Y/n was, you'd find Logan not far behind with a big smile on his face.

Their families could already tell that the two would be something more in the future. Your older siblings even started a bet on how long it would take for the two to fully understand their feelings and confess. Neither of them won because it only took them until the sixth grade to realize that what they felt wasn't platonic. They didn't understand their feelings fully, but they knew that they were no one just friends.

Everything has been perfect until Logan's career in karting began popping off and he soon entered F4. To make matters worse, Y/n's parents had split and decided that Y/n would go with her mother back to their home country. Dalton and Jackson thought it'd ruin the relationship the two youngest siblings had built and they'd break up, which would break the two since they were madly in love even if they fully couldn't understand what love was, but that wasn't the case.

Despite the distance between them, Y/n and Logan had decided to stay together and find long distance a try even though their parents, siblings, friends, cousins, and neighbours warned them that long distance was hard. Even people online said that long distance wasn't the best idea because it tended to end with one or both partners cheating on each other, however; Y/n and Logan trusted each other with their lives, so they decided to give it a chance.

•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•

Now, Logan was a driver in Formula One and Y/n was studying at Uni. During their time apart, they'd only seen each other at least twice. Even though they haven't seen each other properly in years, they have only grown fonder of each other.

As the saying goes, "Distance makes the heart grow fonder"

Y/n plopped down on her bed in nothing but a towel, answering a FaceTime call that came in on her computer, "Hey, you." Y/n greeted happily, "Hey, babe. I'm sorry to call you so late. I know you're probably busy and tired from work..." Logan sighed. "No! You're fine, love. I just got out of the shower. Anyway, what's up?" Y/n asked, removing the towel off her head and running a hand through her hair, "Nothing much. I just wanted to see you." Logan flirted, giving Y/n a smile.

Y/n stood up from the bed and began towelling herself off, "That's cute. If I'm not wrong, the Australian GP is coming up. How do you feel?" Y/n questioned. "I'm excited. To be honest, I want doing well last year. But it's a new year and you know how I worked hard during the break, so I'm ready. Speaking of the Australian GP, do you think that you can come watch?" Logan hesitantly asked, looking down before looking back at Y/n, who was now sitting on her bed in pyjamas.

"I...Logie, you know I'd love to..." Y/n hesitantly started, "I know. You have work and school, but you have never come to a GP before. I want you to come to support me at least once. But I understand. I don't want to force or coerce you to do anything you can't or don't want to do. You'll eventually come to one, right?" Logan asked. "Of course. I plan on coming as soon as I have the time to." Y/n promised.

She kept thinking about the fact that she had never attended one of Logan's races and began feeling like a shit girlfriend, so she ended up DMing Logan's childhood friend whom she had only heard about from Logan, Oscar Piastri and he somehow got her in contact with Alex Albon, Logan's teammate. Together the three made plans to sneak Y/n into the GP without Logan noticing.

It wasn't hard.

She had notified her job and her school of her trip and packed for Australia. She got on a plane as soon as she could, which ended up being the afternoon of FP2,dropped her things off at the hotel, leaving it behind the desk so she could share a room with Logan, and made her way to the track with a VIP pass in her hand.

The girl was practically vibrating as she walked through the paddock by herself. She was supposed to be looking for Oscar or Alex, but she was way too excited to see her boyfriend again. Luckily, Alex spotted her while she was roaming the paddock, "Hey! You're Y/n, right? Logan's girlfriend?" The man asked, approaching her, "Oh, yes. You must be Alex. The teammate." Y/n said, holding out a hand for Alex to shake.

The British Thai driver looked down at her hand before taking it and giving it a firm shake, "It's lovely to meet you. Logan's been talking about you. A lot." Alex said, jokingly rolling his eyes as if he was annoyed, but he truthfully enjoyed seeing his teammate talk about someone who made him happy and kept him sane while he was having a shit year. "Hey, mate. Is this her?" Another voice asked, but this time it was with a strong Australian accent.

Y/n turned to see a brunette in an orange and black shirt approaching them, "You must be the Oscar Piastri that I heard so much about." Y/n said, reaching out fit his hand. Oscar smiled and shook her hand, "I am. You must be Y/n. Logan talks about you a lot." Oscar commented. "So I've been told. It's lovely seeing something other than the pictures Logan sent to me when you guys were younger." Y/n chuckled.

"Come on. FP2 is starting soon and we want you to reunite as quickly as possible." Alex said, leading you towards the garage with Oscar following behind, "So how long have you two been together?" Oscar questioned. "We've been dating for eleven years, I believe. Since we were twelve." Y/n answered, "Eleven years! That's a long time." Alex awed

Once they were close by, Y/n’s heart began to race. She hid behind Alex and Oscar so she was hidden while Oscar pulled out his phone to film the interaction, “Logan, mate! Come here.” Alex called, “What? Do you need something?” Logan asked, voice getting closer as he walked up to them. “We noticed you were feeling a bit nervous, so we brought you something to cheer you up.” Oscar spoke, “What is it?” Logan asked, narrowing his eyes. “Why don’t you guess?” Alex suggested, “Just tell me.” Logan said, “Come on, have a bit of fun with it. Guess.” Alex insisted.

“Just give me whatever it is, mate.” Logan groaned, Y/n chuckled and tapped the boys on their arms, signaling for them to step aside. Logan watched as Alex and Oscar shared a look before stepping aside to reveal his girlfriend. Logan’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened, “Surprise!” Y/n cheered, giving the American jazz hands. Logan ran towards Y/n and scooped her up into his arms.

“You’re here! You told me—“ “That I wouldn’t be able to come. I lied.” Y/n said, burying her face into his shoulder. Logan put her on the ground and bent down, kissing Y/n softly, “I’ve missed you so much.” He muttered, “And I’ve missed you, my love.” Y/n responded, kissing all over Logan’s face. “Logan, Alex, it’s time for free practice.” A engineer called out, “Go out there and do your thing. I’ll be rooting for you.” Y/n said, cupping Logan’s face and connecting their lips.

•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•

Y/n stood in the garage with headphones covering her ears. She couldn’t understand why she never came to a race weekend before, it was exhilarating. She could tell that her boyfriend wasn’t the best on the grid, but she knew he want the worse. It was just amazing to see him in his element, “Go, Logan!” Y/n muttered, clenching the chord between her fingers.

Y/n frowned as an odd feeling settled in her stomach. Y/n put a hand on her stomach and focused on the screen, attempting to ignore the feeling. Something was going to go wrong and she didn’t know what or when. Unfortunately, she didn’t have to wait too long to find out because Alex crashed his car, “Oh shit.” Y/n hissed, biting down in her knuckle.

“Hey, Alex. Are you alright?” Y/n asked, looking at the British Thai driver with concern. “I’m fine.” Alex answered walking away, obviously upset by the accident.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel bad for him, knowing that it absolutely sucks to crash even if she never watched or read up on the sport before.

Y/n made took off her headphones as Logan came back to the garage and jogged up to the American man, “That was so cool! I feel sorry for Alex, but that was so cool! I can’t wait to see you actually racing.” Y/n rambled, grabbing Logan’s hands on hers. While she rambled, Logan just smiled down at her with the softest gaze, “Do you want to go out after this? Or we can go to my hotel room? Have you gotten yourself one?” Logan asked, cupping your cheek.

“We should stay in. Catch up everything we missed and couldn’t talk about on the phone and no, I don’t have my own hotel room. Although, if I did, it probably won’t be getting used.” Y/n tittered. “Let me go get changed and we can go back to the hotel.” Logan said, kissing Y/n’s forehead before rising off to his driver’s room.

Y/n waited and waited, but it seemed like Logan was not coming out, which worried her. Did he get hurt or something? What was teasing so long? Y/n was leaning against the side of the garage, waiting for any sign of her boyfriend, but there was nothing. Until Alex came out, looking conflicted, “Hey, Alex. Where’s Logan?” Y/n questioned, pushing off the wall, “Um, he’s on his drivers room. He’s, uh, not happy right now, so maybe it’s better if you go see him.” Alex suggested.

He pointed out which room was his and continue on with his day, which didn’t really seem out of the ordinary to Y/n. She approached his door and knocked gently, “Logan? Is it alright if I come in?” Y/n called in a gentle voice. It was quiet for a moment before she heard a croaky, “Yeah.” Come from inside.

Y/n opened the door to see Logan sitting on the bench looking distressed, “Oh, what happened? Are you okay? Alex told me you were upset.” Y/n rushed over to her boyfriend, bombarding him with questions out of worry. Logan shook his head, “Alex wrecked his car,” Logan started, “Yeah, I saw that, but what does that have to do with you?” Y/n questioned, kneeling down in front of Logan and grabbing his hands.

“We don’t have a spare chassis, so they’re taking mine and giving it to Alex.” Logan sighed, “What?!” Y/n practically screeched, her confusion and weird turning into anger. “They said that since Alex is the better and more experienced driver, he most likely get the team points.” Logan explained further, “That’s stupid.” Y/n said bluntly, “Y/n…”

“No, don’t “Y/n…” me. I get that Alex it’s better and has more experience, but that’s that dumbest fucking decision I’ve ever heard. That’s like rewarding someone for fucking shit up! He crashed his chassis to the point where it had to be retired, so you have to give up yours? That’s bullshit, Logan!” Y/n argued. “I’m aware. I’ve given my all to this team. I worked myself to the bone during winter break when I could’ve been with you because I wanted it to be beneficial to this team. They are all aware of it.

James said he believed in me. James said he knew that I could go far if I just had a little more time in the car. But it doesn’t seem that way. Maybe I’m just not good enough.” Logan sniffed. Y/n wrapped her arms around Logan’s neck, placing his head on her chest and rubbing his back, “Shut up, Logan. Don’t you dare continue saying those things about yourself. You are good enough. If you weren’t, you would have been chosen for this team in the first place.”

“But—“

“No buts. The previous Williams owner saw something in you that no one else saw and picked you from Formulas Two to drive in Formula One. If you weren’t good enough, he most definitely wouldn’t have chosen you so early. James know he’s dead wrong for this. James know that this is going to be a blow to you, but he thinks getting points is more valuable than your growth. I’m sorry to say this, my love, but you honestly deserve so much better. It’s not your fault that Alex crashed the car. It’s not your fault that this team is so broke that it can’t afford another chassis.” Y/n angrily said, raising her voice before taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. You’re upset and I’m over here ranting.” Y/n quieted down, pressing a kiss too the crown of Logan’s head, “It’s okay, babe. It’s what has to be done for the team to gain some points. It’s whatever.” Logan shrugged, “ no, it’s not whatever, but I’m not gonna continue talking about this. Instead, let’s go to the hotel and order food. We can watch our favorite movies together and cuddle until you feel better.” Y/n said, lifting Logan’s head so his eyes met her and giving him a calming smile.

Logan smiled, albeit it was a sad one, but a smile nonetheless, “I’d like that.” He said, “Good. And since you’re not racing tomorrow, maybe we can do a bit more than cuddling. But that’s only if you’re comfortable and willing.” Y/n teased, pulling Logan up from his seated position, “I’d really like that. Thank you for being here for me and I’m sorry you came all this way only to not see me race.” Logan apologized, “Bah, I do anything for you. It doesn’t matter whether you are racing or not, I’m still here for you and I’d still come. Y/n waved off his apology

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Now let’s go.”

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #logan sargeant x reader #ls2 x reader #ls2 imagine #ls2 fic #ls2 fluff #williams formula 1 #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fluff #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x fem!reader #formula one imagine

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pepsiconcoction · 11 months

Note

oh remembwr when changbin said when he angry all it takes is physical touch or any act of affection for him to turn into putty and how he said hannie instead of being th wfirat to apologise or something just waits with open arms and breaks down when the other person comes to him first WELL IMAGINE A FIC THAT INCORPORATES EITHER OF THESE WITH A LITTLE ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING WITH READER🫢

thank u anon, i will also do the jisung one, so keep an eye out!

Lion Tamer | Seo Changbin x Reader

pairing: seo changbin x fem!reader

tags: angst, miscommunication? a little suggestive at the end, like one swear word, good ending dw, other member makes an appearance

requested: yes!

wc: 1,130

Changbin is known for his short temper, that’s just a fact. He’s easily antagonised, resulting in some hilarious, unexpected, or very occasionally scary outbursts. He is quick to jump up or shout, and hard to calm down. Not many people have mastered the art of lion taming, but you? You’ve somehow perfected it. It wasn’t a conscious thing you did, but it seems you have some unseen power over him.

Your power was discovered by chance in the JYP dance studio. You had been invited along by your wonderful boyfriend who clearly just wanted to show off, knowing this you agreed anyway. You’d be a hypocrite not to indulge him a little bit, right?

During a 5-minute water break, a conversation had started up about shoes. Particularly, platforms. Now, everyone knows that Stray Kids aren’t exactly the tallest, your boyfriend being the shortest of them all, so you could already feel him become tense from his place next to you on the leather sofa.

“I don’t like them, they make me feel like my proportions are wrong,” Minho says from his place on the floor, flat on his back, limbs spread.

“I like them, our team needs them.” Felix contributes, resulting in a few laughs.

“Changbin maybe, I’d say the rest of us are fine.” Minho raises his head, smirking at Changbin.

“Hey! You’re not that much taller!”

“Yeah? Stand up.” Minho doesn’t move. Changbin takes the challenge, sputtering, and stands up. He goes to walk towards Minho who is still starfished, but you grab his hand.

“Sit down, Bin.” You chuckle. He stops in his tracks and plops down next to you immediately, holding your hand properly.

“Did you see that?” Hyunjin says, throwing his head back laughing.

“Yeah,” Jeongin speaks up. “Y/n has some serious powers.”

This results in some laughter around the room while Changbin looks at you, eyes creased with an open grin.

“How am I supposed to say no?” He chuckles, and takes your hand in both of his, squeezing it gently.

Your powers also work in more serious instances. Like the time Changbin thought you were cheating on him, accosting you the moment he got home from the studio.

“Y/n, you have some explaining to do,” he said, entering your shared living room where you had been sitting, peacefully reading.

“What?” you blinked up at him.

“Don’t play with me, I’m not stupid.”

“Bin, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t, of course, you don’t.” He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. If you weren’t so confused, you’d be ogling his arms in the tight black t-shirt he’s wearing.

“I really don’t. Can you tell me what I’ve apparently done?” You put your phone down next to you on the sofa.

“You know, if you wanted to break up with me, you should’ve just said something.” That shocked you into closing your mouth.

“If you wanted to see other people, I wouldn’t stop you. Well, I would, I’d definitely try but if you really wanted to break up I couldn’t stop you. I’d be pissed though because I love you so much and I thought our relationship was practically perfect. And we’re usually so good at communicating so I’m upset that you couldn’t just tell me what’s wrong, or what happened for you to have a change of heart. But seriously, a fucking soft launch on your insta? That’s just shitty.”

Soft launch? Insta? Oh.

You stand up, keeping a relaxed posture and facial expression.

“So are you going to leave? Because if you are, I want my hoodies back, especially the navy one, it’s my favourite one.” He’s slowly getting louder.

Honestly, he’s kind of cute when he’s ranting. You stifle a laugh, taking a step into his space.

“Oh, so you’re laughing at me now? Oh, yes! Let’s laugh at Changbin! Ha! Ha! Ha! So fun-”

You cut him off by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him in for a kiss. His mouth doesn’t really react but his hands do instinctively come to your sides.

“Sorry, I had to get you to shut up.” You pull back, meeting a very emotionally conflicted Changbin.

“Bin. First of all, I’m not leaving you. Second of all, I didn’t soft launch. That was my cousin. He joined me and my aunt for lunch because he is in town at the minute. And lastly, you are so cute when you’re jealous.”

You get a front-row seat to the cogs turning in his head. You watch as his eyes widen and his face flushes a bright shade of red. You throw your head back laughing, still holding the sides of his head. The hands holding you have tightened their grip now, and he’s ducking his head down to hide in your neck.

“I am so sorry. I should be ashamed. Actually.” He cuts himself off and falls to his knees in front of you, arms unwrapping from around you to clasp them together as if he were praying.

“Please forgive me, I’m so sorry. A thousand times over. Hey, stop laughing, I’m trying to apologise. I should never have assumed anything,” he says. You catch your breath and look down at him, instantly bringing a hand to run through his hair. His hands return to you, pulling you into him, and he buries his face in your stomach, mumbling more apologies.

“Changbin, please, look at me.” You use your leverage on his hair to force him to look up. He looks up at you with big eyes.

“Get up.” You giggle. He immediately stands.

“It’s okay, I can understand why you thought that, but you are also super dumb for even thinking that I’d do that in the first place. Why would I ever leave you?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, shrugging.

“Exactly, I have no intention to ever leave my wonderful, adorable, handsome-”

“Sexy.”

“Uh-huh, sexy, smart, kind, and sometimes jealous boyfriend.” You smile up at him, putting your hands on his shoulders. He ducks his head into your neck once more.

“I really am sorry, you know.”

“I know you are.”

You feel his arms tighten around you in a strong hug and the two of you stay there for a few seconds as he sways the two of you gently.

“Okay, grovelling over,” he says suddenly standing up straight, dazing you slightly. He suddenly grabs you, easily throwing you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” You nearly shout as he begins to move.

“Making it up to my wonderful, understanding, sexy girlfriend! Unless she has any complaints with the proposition?” he replies, and that’s when you realise you’re headed in the direction of the bedroom, and you throw your head back laughing again.

“No complaints here!”

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!) : @lethallyprotected

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wnobin · 3 months

Text

BIT BY BIT… 💭 anton lee socmed! au

pairing: college student! anton x campus crush! reader

genre: college! au, social media! au with written portions, slow burn, pining, strangers to friends to lovers.

series synopsis: in which the quiet girl in anton’s language class who seems to never sit with anyone catches his attention. anton makes it his mission to get closer to her bit by bit and break down her walls. the only issue? she’s the last to arrive and first to leave, never allowing anton the chance to approach her.

series masterlist | 08: triple dog dare

it had been two weeks since anton had run into you in the dorms, where you built up the courage to give him a friendly wave and in return, got back a blank stare. you thought it was weird but you didn’t dwell on it too much, forgetting about it after spending a few hours at your brother’s dorm, sharing snacks with him and his roommate, sungchan while sharing stories about how your first semester was.

on the other hand, anton could not stop thinking about that incident. he kept trying to convince himself that maybe you were just bringing food to one of your friends, and not a boyfriend. he would lay in bed at night, searching your name on every social media platform in hopes of finding your account to confirm his suspicions on whether you were single or not. unsurprisingly, he couldn’t find anything about you online. you and him had zero mutual friends and he only knew of your first name so the only way he could get ahold of your social media would be to ask you for it in person. anton didn’t know whether to give up or keep pining over you from afar but he decided that he would at least try to make conversation with you before the semester comes to an end.

he was currently running over to class, japanese 101 to be specific, when he saw a familiar bag with an orange cat keychain hanging from it, recognising it as yours. he had never been late enough to end up being in the hallways at the same time as you but he couldn’t find the right side of his sneakers, the reason being due to a half-asleep sohee accidentally leaving the dorm in mismatched shoes in his haste to make it for his 8am photography class. in addition to being late too, anton was wearing one white shoe and one black shoe, all thanks to his roommate.

anton remembered the second lesson where he made it seem like he didn’t want you to sit with him by putting his bag on the empty seat next to him. together with the incident in the dorms two weeks ago, he probably gave off the impression that he had something against you. in an attempt to change whatever view you had of him, anton mustered up all his courage and sped up until he was beside you.

you didn’t expect anyone else to be in the hallway at the same time as you, due to the fact that you were always late and showing up minutes after the class had already started. you heard the sound of footsteps approaching you and you turned your head only to be met by a nervous-looking anton waving to you.

“so you do know how to wave.” you jokingly teased, anton’s ears going bright red as he was about to start stuttering out an apology for that day but you stopped him before he could embarrass himself further. “i’m kidding! nice shoes you’re wearing today.” you gave him a small smile as you both entered the classroom, heading to your seats.

anton had only ever seen you smile once before, which was when you were talking about your beloved pet cat. anton felt giddy just from a 30 second interaction and he knew he would be on cloud nine for the rest of the week. “c’mon tell me! what were you two talking about? you talked to her, right? considering you both came in at the same time. i saw her smile at you!” he couldn’t even be annoyed by seunghan’s incessant questioning, simply choosing to ignore the other who was grabbing onto his arm and shaking him back and forth.

anton had spent majority of the lesson spaced out, barely writing down any notes and instead, spent the time doodling hearts in his notebook. the only time prof won caught his attention was when he announced the next assignment.

“i’ll be assigning everybody a project on japanese poems, your task is to analyse it and write a report on it. you’ll be working in pairs and before you ask, no you cannot choose your partner.”

with how well everything was going today, anton had his fingers and toes crossed that the stars in the universe would align and prof won would somehow read his mind and pair you and anton up together.

“i’ll be reading out the pairs now so do listen up carefully because i’m only going to say it once. jungwon and hanni. seunghan and chenle.”

“what? no!” seunghan whined, not wanting to be partnered up with the guy he sat next to for one day, that day being the first and last time he ever sat with chenle, who kept farting during the lesson. the chinese student turned around and gave seunghan a big smile, who in return could only muster out a half smile and give him a thumbs up. anton would have burst out laughing at how dejected his friend looked but currently he was too busy trying to communicate with prof won telepathically. me and y/n please please please please.

“anton and ricky. y/n and jayoon.”

anton let his head fall onto the desk with a soft thud, disappointed that staring straight at prof won didn’t help his chances to get paired up with you. now he had one more thing to worry about. he didn’t even know who ricky was. he only remembered that he was a foreign student from china and he showed up in a suit for the only two classes he bothered to attend.

while anton was going through the five stages of grief all at once, you didn’t actually mind your pairing. you weren’t close to yoon but you and her had short conversations sometimes, talking about how hard the homework was or how prof won’s bald spot seemed to be growing bigger. before the lesson ended, you handed your phone to her to get her to type her contact in. witnessing the sight as he was packing up, anton muttered, “that should be me…”

“yeah whatever at least you don’t have a fart machine as a partner.”

taglist (closed due to the limit!): @andromedawillburyyou @imsiriuslyreal @beckiiee00 @dreamiestay @babigriin @kyusqult @eumppappaswife @sserafilms @annswwa @lecheugo @llearlert @nyuoqi @thesunoosshining @yangasm @mmsriza @myizhuos @miyawakiblossoms @hyucksdelicate @ilovejungwonandhaechan @snowyseungs @soobiary @ilovejaketoomuch @cla1r20 @darlingz99 @chiiyuuvv @lilacarat @ohmykwonsoonyoung @sonjuyeonnie @nicholasluvbot @haechology @luvnicho @numberonetaleprince @addores @revehosh @jscvhs @istphanie @b-riize @miszes @shnnzsworld @ppoddorii @cowsmicwu

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tim-shii · 3 months

Text

i remember it all too well.

featuring: bachira meguru, itoshi rin, mikage reo

" you almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over at me. "

bachira meguru was an eccentric lover. he likes to have fun and takes you on dates you’d never even expect. one time, during your second date, he took you out to go bungee jumping. you were frozen on the platform for 30 minutes while he was down there, cheering you on with a stupid smile on his face and his phone recording you.

right now, you guys are on the way home after a day at a cat cafe. they were really cute but their fur all over you was not cute at all. you look out the window, admiring the view as the car sped through the road. you hold back a laugh as you pass by a squirrel falling down a tree with its acorn stuck in the branch. you turn to tell bachira when you notice he’s already looking at you.

“eyes on the road!”

“i got my eye on you.” and to push it further, he points two fingers in your direction. sighing lighty, you shove his face to turn to the road. “you can eye me later if we don’t die.”

bachira whips his head to look at you accusingly. “excuse me?! my driving skills are maxed out, you know. and besides, who’s the one with the license between us, huh? that’s right. me. bachira megu–” “yeah, yeah. shut up.” you try to shush him however that seemed to only seethe him more. more screams of fury and annoyance comes from bachira. you were only seconds away from tuning him out when you saw the traffic light glow red. immediately, you urged bachira to step on the brakes. with the panic in your voice, he abides at once.

now at a stop sign, deep breaths coming from the two of you fill the vehicle. giggles and laughter following after. “oh my god, stop laughing, meguru.” he halts his laughter. playfully gesturing a zipper over his lips yet the obvious grin on his face gives it away.

“can we both agree to always keep an eye on the road now?”

“yes, ma’am… got my other eye on you tho.”

“bachira.”

" you told me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me. "

getting into a relationship wasn’t in itoshi rin’s bucket list. or any list really. never did he think that he’ll be here at 3am in the morning, on his bed, with you, and he’s telling you all about him. from the very first time he held a soccer ball to the day sae left for spain. he confided in you, hiding no side of his self and showing you all and even letting you see through him completely.

“so, this is it?” the air was cold. breaking up on a december night? it almost makes him laugh. he’d fight for it but.. what was the point? this is the ending of a love story. your love story. if he tries to change the ending, who knows what could happen next? you stay with him out of pity? or you get tired and all goes in a circle once more. he stays silent. not uttering one word and maybe that set you off because you dragged a hand down your face. he observes you for the first time in weeks. you look really tired and if letting this end would make you happy then so be it.

he walks past you and that leaves you baffled. so he’s just leaving, you think in your head. chest aching and hands itching to reach out, but you don’t. because if he’s walking away without a word, what are the chances he’ll hear you out?

“oh god, i never thought it could end up like this.” rin hears you whisper to yourself as he grabs his coat and makes his way to the door. he bites on his lips, urging the tears brimming his eyes to not fall. not now. as he strolls through the park, he mutters to himself. “neither did i.” but you weren’t there to hear him. only the moon knows.

" we're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light. "

loving mikage reo was unexpected and something you’re grateful for. he’s the best boyfriend one could ever ask for. he fell in love with you at first sight when you took his coffee order at the cafe down the block. the continues to visit the coffee shop with a bouquet of flowers dedicated for you everyday until you give him your number.

cravings at midnight are common. you had them a lot so sneaking out of reo’s arms became something you’re skilled at. tiptoeing towards the fridge, you rummage through every shelf to find something to eat. a yelp escapes you as you felt cold hands slid under your shirt. reo’s laughter breaks your shock, turning to hit him in the chest. that just seems to make him laugh more.

“hi, sweetheart. what are you doing?” he smiles like he did nothing wrong. you scowl at him before turning to rummage through the fridge once again. “i’m hungry. i wanna eat.”

“oh? should we just order then?” reo asks you, pulling out his phone and opening a delivery app. he was about to click on an item until your hand blocks his phone while you stare him down with a glare. “reo, your fridge is full to the brim. baa-ya even had to push things in the pantry ‘cause there’s no more space!”

“come on, use your inside voice inside the house.” like the smooth man he is, he cuddles you in his arms, swaying the both of you side by side. only to stop when you pinch his side. “ow! what was that for?"

“don’t dance with me when the fridge door is open!”

“but it’s romantic!”

“an overpriced electricity bill isn’t!”

“you’re not even the one paying the bills–ow!”

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

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tarjapearce · 3 months

Text

Bad Teachings (Pt. 17)

Older! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Sexual language, mild smut, masturbation, awkward situations, a bit of Miguel on Dad mode, Angst, depictions of nightmares, bonding time, emerging fears, relationship doubts, mild character background depiction, comfort towards the end.

Summary: The cracks in Miguel's past begin to widen.

A/N: Sorry in advance :'). (feedback much appreciated ❤️✨) I DO NOT AUTHORIZE my works to be translated or updated to other platforms without permission. Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 ❤️

Chapter's song:

Let me show you.

Those words had forever marked your brain with Miguel's watermark forever, claiming almost every bit of you for himself.

Not only he showed you, but also taught you many things.

How to kiss, how to properly sleep in his chest, and how to address him from now on.

Amor.

He was your sunshine. You ray of hope, your light in the darkest days, your savior when everything had crumbled apart. The bandage and glue of your bleeding heart, your life teacher and now all yours.

And still, you couldn't help but feel like a total fool at lost on what to do. The relationship was a blank canvas awaiting to be painted with so many new emotions and experiences created by both, to create the Opus Magna of yourselves.

You held the brush, and Miguel guided you through the strokes. That kiss was the base from everything, the beginning of a beautiful work in progress.

Ever since you kissed, it was like adoration, devotion and commitment had entered your world, foreign words added to your life's dictionary. And as the ever good teacher he was, he made sure for you to understand each one of their concepts.

The first thing he had been teaching you was commitment. He committed to come home to you, to keep himself healthy, to make you smile in every chance he got, and also, a must, he was committed to give you a breathtaking kiss whenever you smiled. Which was often.

And it had only been a couple of days ever since you decided to take his invitation. There was no room for regret, no room for what ifs when you were experiencing first hand what was like to be his.

Hands on you, roaming every romantic line of your form with such care and gentleness it made every pore of your skin to sing in delight. A brief call during lunch break to check on you, to ask you what you wanted for dinner, and just to hear your voice really.

He gave a gentle rub on your feet, despite ending up a bit annoyed that you were a bit too ticklish, after you came home, exhausted from work, which in return you prepared his lunch and gave a massage on his scalp before he drifted off to sleep.

The way he held you while sleeping spoke volumes. He'd always end up being the big spoon, a lazy hand hanging on your supple hips, his arm underneath your head, bicep acting like your own pillow, perfect for accesibly cradling your head for your morning kiss. Your thigh would hook on his hip, and your arm would slide underneath whatever side he faced you with, doing your best to snuggle him closer.

He'd nuzzle your neck while stirring awake, peppering your face with small kisses on the side of your cheek. He'd squeeze and breath you in, as if receiving his daily dose of endorphins in those single actions alone, they rioted as you blinked the grogginess away and immediately graced his day with a sweet and bashful smile.

"Morning, mi niña."

You curled into his chest, and groaned happily, relishing in his warmth.

"Good morning, amor."

He nearly melted at your pet name, specially when he taught you how to pronounce it correctly. He'd ask you to repeat the word over and over, just to hear you calling him that.

"Gotta go run."

You groaned and curled on him like a tiny marsupial both hands around his neck, leg unabashedly ontop of his waist.

"Can I be selfish for today and ask you to stay in bed with me?"

His hands caressed your hair, twirling a strand of it in his hands, he smiled.

"You want me to stay?"

"Please? It's kinda cold outside and bed gets colder when you leave."

You murmured in sleepy breaths and Miguel chuckled.

"Sólo porque tú me lo pides." (Just cause you ask me to)

You hummed as his fingertips massaged your scalp in soft moves that had you melting, sending you back to sleep.

-----

After what it felt like forever, your day eventually started, He didn't go for a run, but welcomed your day with a hearty breakfast and a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

You talked, washed the dishes together, then you took a shower and prepared for work.

Although the campaign had been marching smoothly, there were some things that needed to be addressed as soon as possible so you could focus on your area. Deadlines were approaching, and you knew how persistent Julius could get.

Miguel joined you a couple of minutes later, coffee mug on hand, and a stack of papers and his usb on the other.

"Got the information you needed from the marketing area"

"You did?! My goodness, finally I'll get Julius out of my ass. Thank you." You pecked his lips as he gave you the memory card.

"Is he overbearing?" He put his glasses on, to then stack up the papers, a pencil nested in his hand, small and frail between his fingers.

Your eyes couldn't help but look at his hands. "Not really, he's just been stressed lately"

Roughed up, calloused, veins with a purple shade that nested under his cinnamon skin. A pair of limbs you loved feeling, specially when he held you at night or caressed your body.

He chuckled, "You're staring."

"'Course I am. You have the prettiest hands I've seen."

You slid yours in between his, tangling fingertips while you snapped a picture of them together. Unlike your photo with Simon, your hand wasn't just laying there, looking pretty. They held onto Miguel's, on each other's. His fingers enveloped yours tenderly.

" What should we caption this?"

"Caption?"

You nodded while giving the image some brief retouches and finishes.

"What about... Nosotros?"

"Noso-truhs?"

He smirked at your little mishap but nodded.

"What does that means?"

"Us."

Your heart leaped and your stomach did a pirouette. The implicit confirmation of your situationship finally came clear. You were together.

"I like it."

His touch lingered, his warmth was always inviting. To your surprise he took your hand and gave a kiss on the back of your palm.

When you met again after work, there wasn't an hour he didn't kiss your hands, showered your head with pecks or touched you. As much as you wanted to keep revelling in each other's sweet affections, work demanded your whole attention.

He got to scribble some numbers and do calculations, your eyes couldn't help but dart towards what he was working on. A hospital's logo in the upper corner, he flipped the page.

The document, the bill, to be more precise; seemed an old and regular thing he checked, as some folding lines were too marked on the worn paper. He even hummed, apparently satisfied as the numbers he was doing seemed to match in his scribbles.

You focused on the files on your screen, and connected his drive to your computer, files copying by default. You then searched for the reports he mentioned and sent them to Julius.

One more thing out of the way.

Silence was comfortable. You pulled the drive out and poured the file into a copy of the whole work itself, to your surprise, there was a video file that remained outside the archive.

"Didn't know they had done videos already", Miguel snapped his attention to you, heart pounding in slow motion as you made click on the icon.

"¡No, no, no, no, Espera! Don't-"

Shit

"What-" Your hand froze mid air, upon seeing the contents of the video. Eyes widening impossibly big, cheeks warming up to the point of reaching your ears. He tried to pause the reel, but the video player got stuck and locked when he ripped the trinket from the port.

"Shit..."

Your giggles turned into soft moanings as they filled in the space, while Miguel rubbed his face, a faint dash of pink in his ears.

Fuck...

Your hands fisted on your lap, the video played, your heart thrummed violently under your ribs, gaze unable to tear from the screen.

Is this how you looked back then?

Hips urgent, riding your own hand, mouth agape, totally drowning in the swirling sensations that made your hand to squeeze at your breast, panting and biting your lip. The video shut off right when you were about to come undone.

The footage stopped in an erotical frame of you. Eyes closed, cheeks flushed, one hand toying with your taut nipple, pulling it softly as your other hand buried itself within the baby blue cotton panties that leeched off the silhouette of your hand as it got lost between your legs. A few loose strands of hair adorning your enraptured and wanton face. Heavenly pornographic, needy and way too pretty.

Screen blinked and a 404 error before it shut off and restarted.

"Gave you the... the wrong one, sorry." The urgency in his tone and his constant hair pulling had his anxiety shooting for the stars.

He put the usb on his side of the table and you swallowed. Trying to process what just happened

"Uh..."

"You weren't supposed to get that one"

"You've... kept that video this whole time?"

He studied your expression, revealing nothing but curiosity, surprise and embarrassment in tandem of a dash of smugness. In all honesty, you thought he had deleted it right away, turning it into a piece of lost media.

"Can't really blame me for such thing. Not when it was what started it all."

"I'm not. Just surprised you've kept it that long."

Plump lips stretched in a bashful smile, he wasn't one for consuming porn on a regular basis, and if he did, he'd look for the basics, but would always end up re-watching your piece. Nothing could really compare the need it created, the envy he drowned in for not being your hand in that moment.

Two years and a couple months of getting off to that video, the only tangible proof of your presence in his life before you vanished into thin air. He had gotten used to your attention. And now he had it completely, his lids drooped as he hovered over your sitting form. Caging you between his body and the couch.

"What else have you kept from me?"

"Besides that?"

He pecked your lips and you gave a soft bite on his bottom lip, nodding at his inquiry. It was true that it had taken you by surprise, but you couldn't help but feel flattered, it gave your confidence a boost to know he somehow had kept this memento.

"Some lovely pictures I took on my own."

"Oh?" You giggled as his lips kissed yours, hands planting on each side of your thighs. Some of his strands of hair mixing with yours ontop. "Show me."

"Gotta earn that, preciosa" He crooned over your lips.

Your eyes rolled and his kisses toured towards your neck, inhaling your lovely smell. One of his hands left a warm trail over your torso and tummy until it hovered above the junction of your inner thighs.

"How?" you husked in between nervous giggles, breath caught in your throat as his fingers dipped past the elastic band of your sweatpants and panties, but stopped, giving you a last look, searching for permission.

"I told you I'd show you, didn't I?" He smiled while staring, crooked upper row teeth biting at the bottom muscle for a second, "Let me."

And you nodded, granting him permission with a brief kiss.

Pupils went wide blown as the rough pad of his fingertips skimmed over the outer labia, cupping the flesh in a soft and gentle motion. Warm breath fanned over his neck and chin, shaky. His eyes closed as a low gutural growl rumbled in his chest upon feeling you.

His face hid in the crook of your neck, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your pulsating body.

"Brings me so much memories."

A coy laugh escaped your lips as he retrieved his hand back and pulled you up, With a movement he twirled you and pushed you towards the couch, making your digs to kneel in the cushioned surface as he pressed his frame behind yours, engulfing you.

Hands instinctively held on the couch's sturdy frame. Miguel nipped at your shoulder, his fangs grazing the junction of your nape and shoulders. One of his hands snaked underneath your shirt, taking a quick but proper feel of your breast, this made you titter.

"You laugh when you're nervous." he murmured while dipping his hands back inside your panties. One of your hands hovered above you, draping over his nape, this made him pick your shirt and put a piece of the hem on your mouth.

"Hold it."

A shiver electrified your spine, you bit your shirt as your breast were free, big and calloused hand immediately trapped one as the fingers of his other limb, dipped between your folds, caressing the hardening and throbbing bundle of nerves.

Your hips pressed against his, it earned you a kiss on your temple.

"Go on, my hand is yours"

With a gentle push of his hips, he swayed your body forwards, a shy gasp erupted from you as his fingers grazed your clit with a bit more of pressure. Your body sung with a strange yet familiar sensation.

How long had it been without any sort of sexual performance besides your own hands? Certainly alot. Miguel was the last one to bed you. And the only one your body obeyed.

Your eyes closed shut when his fingers played a deft tune with your wetness, ebbing you to move forward, without shame. His gaze studying your pleasured face as he tweaked one of your nipples.

With a deep breath, you sank your hips on his hand, taking a proper feel of his hand. Deliciously warm, rough and providing enough texture to send jolts through your spine.

"There she goes" he crooned while pressing two of his fingers tighter on your moving cunt. A soft and wet thwip

came as he prodded the outside of your hole. He teased enough to have your swaying motion increasing. The holding bite on your shirt long gone.

Heat pooled on his fingers as you rode his hand. Your phalanges held his arm in place. A groan flew out of your lips, and it was the perfect chance for him to kiss you, deeply and just the way you both liked it while slowly, pushing his two fingers inside you, drowning the whimper that had his chest rumble with a groan.

He poked in enough to have your slit teased, and aching for something bigger to take you, like you were meant to.

He knew you liked it rough. And as your crevice parted to exhale, he seized the chance to kiss you.

Hungrily, breathlessly and full of need. Like if your life depended on each other's lips. His fingers prodded deep enough to not make you feel uncomfortable, rather provoke you enough to have you sputtering sensual babbles and blown moans.

"Just like that, mi amor?" His voice dropped an octave lower, a bit of shakiness in it as he moved his hand faster, focused on the gentle yet speedy motions on your clit and nipples, your jaw slacked open .

"Mig-" You gasped upon feeling the tension coiling up in a tight knot, every pore of your body sung in need and delight. Awaiting to fall in the scrumptious abyss of pleasure you had been missing and lacking for so long, because adult life happened.

Chest rose up and down erratically, until your body went taut, finally melting in his arms with a sweet cry it had him smirking, satisfied and proud. He still got it.

"Miguel!" You gasped as the tidal waves of pleasure, drowned you, Consuming every rational thought, except for one. More. You wanted and needed more.

More of him, you wanted it all. How not when he turned your dazed head towards him, making you watch him lick his glistening fingers clean, relishing in your taste.

"Me encantas tanto" Another kiss and you tasted yourself in the process, before he let you ride your high in his arms. You panted and groaned with every spasm your walls did. His hard on pressed in the back of your rear, hips immediately bucking against his.

"Let me help too." You whined

"Are you sure, preciosa?"

"Yes" Voice raspy but sweet, pleading for him.

There was nothing holding you back from taking each other. You were together.

And God, you'd enjoy him like he was enjoying you and your mouth, his hands ready for the second round as he gathered your shirt up, with intention of removing it. However his phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting the possibilities with name Burrito Parker on the screen.

The growl he gave, made your clit throb.

"Este pendejo..." He grumbled and his nose flared angrily, he fetched his phone, still holding onto a breathless you. He pressed the green icon, answering the call. Irked and clearly upset at the cock blocking his best friend provided

"The hell you want? "

Your eyes widened at his tone, but his softened upon hearing Peter and his petition. He let you go with a quick peck and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. He hung up after a minute of speaking.

All the racing thoughts were sapped out your body, replacing them with some self awareness. Cheeks grew warmer at the creeping shame.

"Uhm, everything alright?"

"Yeah. Just Parker being inconvenient. Need to find some of his books."

"Right. Uh... Do you need help?"

No answer. Just him shuffling among his things.

The doorbell rang ten minutes later, a surge of anxiety ran through your body. Miguel was busy in his room, and the ringing turned urgent as it dinged a second and a third time.

"I'll get it!" You gave your clothes a quick fix to then open the door. To your surprise, none other than Mr. Parker stood in your doorframe, the cherry on top was him holding a little girl, lovely and fiery ginger curls ontop of her chubby head, blue eyes looking at you curiously. Just like her father.

"Mr. Parker, hi." You hoped the blood rush in your cheeks had toned down.

"Hey... You." He smiled nervously, while accommodating the diaper bag on his shoulder. Blowing up his cover of not remembering you properly, but in all honesty it was better that way. Things were awkward as they were. Besides, not that you expected him to remember you either.

His daughter waved to you, you smiled and waved back.

"Uh, is Miguel here? I told him I was in my way."

"Oh! Sorry. Yeah, come in."

You closed the door behind him and he remained on the dining room, glad he didn't ventured in the place you were riding Miguel's hand moments ago.

"Would you like some water, Mr. Parker?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

You didn't waste time and headed for the kitchen, served him a tall glass of water.

"¿Amor?" Miguel's voice rumbled from the room, heavy steps approached, "Who knocked-"

Miguel stopped upon seeing Peter, dressed up in a button shirt, pants and shoes. The typical to-go college teacher outfit, that seized him with a confused look between him and you. Trying to put two and two together. His eyes widened a bit upon it all clicking in his mind.

Miguel just deadpanned, a look Peter would translate into a 'You used your brain, congrats."

You got Peter his water, he quenched his thirst and held his girl close. Neither of you expected him to get here so quickly. Miguel specially.

"Did you find the books?" Peter asked as you witnessed the exchange between them. Mr. Parker handed his baby to Miguel, which the little girl seemed comfortable enough to the point of giving him an uneven toothy grin while trying to get a hold of his hair, followed by the diaper bag.

Miguel gave a couple of books that undoubtedly were the ones he used for his class back in college

"Sorry to ask you for this out of the sudden, MJ is in a meet and greet, and the nanny cancelled us last minute." Peter mumbled while double checking the insides of the bag. "Mayday just ate, she'll have her nap soon, make sure to not feed her avocados, they make her crap smellier. And-"

"Parker."

Peter rubbed his neck, exhaling, managing his own anxiety.

"Cálmate. It's just a couple of hours. Go to your lecture."

"Right. you're right. She'll be fine. I'll be back as soon as I finish. Call me or MJ if something happens or if she's too uncomfortable."

Peter gave Mayday a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be good with Uncle Miguel, ok?"

Your old teacher left with the books before throwing you a polite smile. Leaving curiosity and confusion behind.

Mayday pointed to the door where Parker had just left.

"Your papa? He'll be back soon. Don't worry, I've got you, Calabacita." His lips arched into a soft yet knowing smile.

His fingers tickled Mayday's tummy, earning a squealing giggle from her. His hands fixed the spider hero themed beanie ontop of her head.

His eyes turned to you, standing on the spot, watching him with unbelieving and curious eyes. He smirked

"What? Never seen a baby before?"

Your lips pursed and your brows puckered softly. "Rude. But I have. Didn't know you were good with them, though, or that Mr. Parker could be quite... responsible."

Miguel just pressed his lips into a tightened expression, but Mayday's giggle had his attention back to her. Her feet kicked enough to make Miguel to put her on the floor, she immediately crawled enthusiastically towards you, but the bright colors of your drives sprawled on the floor diverted her attention towards the trinkets.

Yours and Miguel's alarms flared when she approached them. Miguel quickly picked her up, earning another squealing giggle from her while trying to get a hold of the tech junk.

"I kinda can see it, though..." You mumbled in between a stifled laugh.

"What?"

"She's definitely Mr. Parker's daughter."

Miguel hissed as Mayday, pulled some strands of his hair while climbing ontop of his shoulders. "No me digas. Ow, Mayday, Espérate-" (No shit. Hold on)

His hands tried to grab her only for thw toddler to roll on and fall on his hands.

"Oh my god!" You gasped as he caught her flawlessly. Heart pounding so hard it got him tittering at your panicked reaction.

"Tranquila, she loves trust falling."

"Isn't that dangerous?!"

Miguel beckoned you closer as he cradled Mayday on his arms, an excited beam on the baby's face.

"Hold her for a minute, Need to get the bed done so she can sleep her nap properly."

"What? No, I haven't held a baby ever since I was twelve!"

"It's not rocket science, mi amor. Just make sure to hold her head and support her spine."

"But-"

Miguel shushed as he put Mayday gently on your arms, rearranging your limbs in a secure way to hold her accordingly. Her head rested in your palm, as you supported her spine by holding the rest carefully in your arms.

"See? Now you know."

He disappeared for a moment, the shuffling in his bed echoed through the room, as you stared at Mayday. She definitely had Peter's eyes and behavior, the hair definitely belonged to her mother. It was incredible how time passed by.

Seeing Mr. Parker was quite the surprise, he only looked a bit more roughed up, but was the same gentle soul he met back in your student days. And now you were holding his baby in your arms.

Miguel's head peeked out from the hall, watching you with amusement and fondness. It was clear you didn't know your way around children like he did. And still, you did your best, even though you looked like you'd beat Mayday in a staring contest.

Big and blue round eyes stared at you, tiny hands taking a feel of your already warming face while keeping a gentle hold on her. Exactly like Miguel had left you.

"Hey." You mumbled and Mayday cooed, limbs already on your hair, taking a good feel of your strand's texture.

And that was precisely why Peter asked him to look after Mayday, a little exchange of favours as Peter looked after Gabi back at the hospital when there was an urgent meeting with the lab directors in charge of Gabriella's case. In dire need of good news.

Miguel had been genuinely happy for Peter when he somehow confessed he was also being a father. The latter was mindful of his loss, but Miguel was the only one Peter trusted in at the time.

Your lover retrieved Mayday and accommodated her in his chest, rubbing her back gently in small circles as air flew out of her mouth in the shape of burps and yawns.

"How old is she?" You picked up the diaper bag as Miguel walked back to his room, rocking the baby girl to sleep.

"Two and a half. There's a small plush in the bag. Get it for me, please."

You unzipped said thing open and there was a small plush animal in it. A pig dressed in a Spiderman suit. It was handed to Mayday, which cuddled with it immediately.

"You know her very well."

"I've been her godfather ever since she turned six months."

You sat on the bed's edge, looking at the small nest he had made, a pillow on each side a space he'd put Mayday in.

He was a natural when it came to handle kids, no wonder why teaching came so in handy with this behavior. It also made you wonder about the kid's brush, and other items you had definitely seen but now were gone. What he had done with them? More importantly, what had happened?

But of course, those answers weren't for you yet, despite reaching a whole new level in your relationship. Talking about children was out of the equation, yet there he was, being a temporary father figure to a little girl that needed him. And he delivered, tenfold.

Making your curiosity even harder to keep under the leash. You left the room, letting him to do what he did best, you had no business in there. If anything you were only doing a moral support and watching how to tame a mini human.

Sitting before your computer, you organized a bunch of loose papers sprawled on the table, but your mind was too alive and taking even more consciousness to try and focus on your work. Instead it focused on Miguel and this newly found side of him you had the privilege to witness in it's full glory.

He seemed relaxed, like if parenting was another type of breathing, happy even.

Your guts churned with an emerging question.

What if he wants a family in a future?

You swallowed hard as a bubbling wave of anxiety made your brain juggle with so many questions as time ticked on.

Would he want you the same if a family wasn't in your plans? What if he didn't? What if he found someone else that did? What if-

"Mi niña?"

Your heart nearly busted out of your chest, you blinked the brewing tears away, clearing your throat as you poured your regained focus on your work after what it felt like forever.

"Yeah?" He arched a bushy eyebrow

"What do you mean, yeah? It's, yes, amor?, for you."

You chuckled, almost imperceptibly and this made him frown now.

"Is Mayday asleep?"

He hummed as he sat next to you, his frame swallowing the space right away. It brought you back when you were at your apartment, and he was assembling the shelf while apologizing.

"She gets sleepy easily. Taught that trick to Parker."

"I see..." You mumbled barely a whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong?"

Miguel reached for one of your hands and squeezed it between his. His elbow rested on his knee.

"To starters, you're not looking at me, something you do when you're conflicted. Secondly, your nose," He poked it softly, "is getting red, meaning you were about to cry, which leads me to think, something must've affected you since you were over thinking." He chuckled.

"You get this... gone look when doing it. And finally, your screen is still locked and you took my share of papers, mi niña."

You groaned while resting your head on his bicep, he kissed your temple.

"Well, you said it. I'm conflicted and over thinking."

"About?"

"I'm not that sure if I can approach this... topic since you said it was out of question."

Miguel just squeezed a bit tighter your hand, and sighed. His other hand removing a stray strand of hair out of your face. Mahogany eyes quizzical and cunning.

"Well, I guess it all will depend on what you're asking."

"No" You blinked, "No. If it makes you uncomfortable even in the slightest, I won't bring it up."

"Took me a while to learn this the bad way, but, awkward talks are part of any relationship and you're clearly upset. If I can, I will fix it. And if it's a too personal question, I will tell you, alright?. Now spit it out before I make you."

He nipped at the tip of your earlobe, earning a bashful giggle from you.

"Okay, okay!" You sighed, nerves eased a level down, and you took his hand while his keen gaze took you in, "Seeing you with that baby made me think..."

His face fell before your pause, and you swallowed, "Would... Would you still want me if... I don't want children?"

His eyes rounded a chip wider as his mouth pursed. "What?"

"You looked... Happy when having Mayday in your arms. I hope it's not a problem or..." You frowned upon seeing his tense reaction, "Sorry... God I'm so dumb. I'm so so sorry."

Hands immediately let his go, to cover your face.

"Hey." He pried your hands away and his heart sunk upon watching you all glossy eyed. "Mírame."

You shook your head.

"Mi amor." His tone as usual, gentle but firm. His thumb and index finger took a hold of your chin to look at him.

"You told me this before, remember? You don't need to explain your reasons to me. You don't owe me anything of that." His thumb moved to wipe away the tears that menaced to escape.

That's the least of things I think about.If honest?... I've..." His Adam's apple, bobbed nervously, unsure of unlocking even superficially that chapter of his life he always skipped and tried to bury, but even so, his shoulders slumped, almost defeated, "Parenting is not for everyone. It's hard and... painful."

You frowned upon feeling his hand squeezing you tighter, as if seeking to ground himself.

"Great... Now I've made you upset because of my-"

"Stop, mi amor" he warned gently, "This... your fear, will not change anything, ok?"

"Promise? I know... it's too soon to be discussing this, and I'm sorry if-"

"God, you do apologize too much. Come here."

He silenced your fears with a sincerity tasting kiss. There wasn't any hidden words or meanings behind what he said, his eyes didn't lie too.

"The only thing you need to worry about is hiding my marks once Peter returns for Mayday"

----

The sterile stench he learned to hate took Miguel by the throat, the beeping machines that dictated a steady pulse echoed louder the more he ventured in the white walls of his second home.

He knew them by heart, but for unknown reasons he kept turning in the apparently wrong direction, and ended up in the beginning of the maze.

No, no, no! Go right again!

His heart pumped almost painfully, his breathings laboured as he now sprinted, through the narrow halls that thinned the more he tried to run, as if they were preventing him to reach the end.

The machine's beeping turned erratic the more he approached, like his breathings.

"Papa?"

He swallowed hard, fist tightened on his sides for a minute, eyes impossibly wide as the door he knew the spots and details of, opened on it's own.

"Papa! Help me!"

The echo of his heart pulsed through his body, making it tremble as his lungs clenched, hindering his attempt to properly breath.

How?

His throat tightened in a knot. The urge to scream and beg only increased tenfold as he saw the ever familiar staff rushing in his little girl's room.

Gabriella

It was like if one hand, then another one grabbed him, held him back, He thrashed, but the more he fought, the more he was held back. Bound to watch his biggest failure as a scientist and father, play on repeat and 4K resolution.

"Papa!"

Her voice called, demanding for his presence in her thinning existence. But he refused to be an spectator, not this time. He'd do things differently, he had to.

"No! It hurts! Papa!"

Bile rose up his throat upon hearing Gabriella's pleas and cries, she had grown terrified of needles. He had to fight, against the weakening beepings, against the million of hands that held him back, against a diagnose that was now poisoning the little hopes he had left.

He tried, with every fiber of his being, to step forward, but unseen forces retained him, a gravel like voice growled behind him

"No"

He looked behind his shoulder, eyes injected with despair and terror. Bloodshot and crimson eyes stared back at him, his own silhouette hovered over him, like an overgrown shadow, towering over him, menacingly and preventing him to go further.

SHE NEEDS ME!

Miguel begged.

The bleary-eyed scientist, gasped for air, agonizing, grovelling to the door, ignoring the hands that dragged, scratched and pulled his hair back, doing their best to stop him

Please...

The constant pulse in the machine had weakened to the point of giving a wobbly beep every five seconds. His time was wearing off.

"No! Papi! No me dejes!" (Papa don't leave me)

Stop! Please!

The tears rolled, they still worked, Miguel believed them long dry and gone. His jaw clenched, despair gnawing at it's berated mind.

You're useless, O'Hara

The shadow spoke, as the beepings stopped. A deafening and dull monotone sound echoed through.

His eyes could only watch, unbelieving, glossy, shaky the previous doctors abandoning the room, a solemn look in their faces. Like the same day they found out what was wrong with his beloved Solecito's health.

Gabriella!

He cried, begged to enter that room, he'd give everything in his hands to bring her back, to see her one more time, to tell her how sorry he was. But none of that mattered, not when the forces released him, but focused in tearing apart the reality he was set in.

Each tear made his heart clench and race, he was too late when reaching for the door as he fell in the darkness' abyss.

He jerked awake with a doleful beat on his heart, erratic breaths polluted his lungs as his cheeks were soaked. Sweat etched in every pore of himself. Mouth soured and ashy tasting, swallowing hurted, his hair stuck to his face, hands were clammy.

The sterile stench still remained on his nose, like the steps when the doctors rushed in. He rubbed his face in a feeble attempt to wash away the fear

Another nightmare. He forced a deep exhale as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Nausea assaulting his stomach.

"Miguel?"

A hand on his lower back made his perturbed eyes to snap at the person before him. You. Sweet voice that grounded his rampant instability almost right away.

Concern etched in every muscle of your countenance, your hand warm, soothing. Not really caring for the sweat staining his back. Heart sinking upon watching him so distraught and frightened.

His hand traced your features, afraid that you'd slip out too. His breath hitched

"No te vayas..." (Don't go.)

You didn't have to understand that bit of spanish to understand his plea. In return, you cupped his face softly, and he nuzzled his face on your hands, relishing in the contact.

"I'm not going anywhere, Miguel."

You mumbled while combing carefully the unruly and soaked strands off his face, as they took shape in the way he always styled it.

His hands took a proper feel of you, too afraid that it was all part of the assailant nightmare. But you were there, flesh and bones, calling him to surrender into your comfort as you hugged him and cradled his head against your chest.

You're not alone anymore

"Mi amor." you mumbled and he clung to you. Leaning all his weight on your frame, even though he was hefty, you remained strong, for him. You anchored him.

"Do you want me to prepare you a cup of coffee?"

He shook his head, unable to utter properly a word. Throat too constricted and hurting to speak.

"Want to lay down?"

He didn't know what to do or reply. These episodes were usually spent alone, leaving none but himself to deal with his own fucked up psyche's aftermath.

He either stayed up until his alarm went off, or in the worst case scenario he'd knock himself out with sleeping pills or mezcal. Ruining his sober count days progress.

He heaved a deep exhale, as you enveloped him with your body, cradling him closer to you. He complied and rested his head on your chest, listening to the lullaby of your heart. Steady, grounding and very much alive.

You kept running your fingers through the drenched silky strands, easing the tension off his shoulders, and hopefully his mind too.

Peter had come for Mayday a couple of hours later, in the meantime you had to keep her busy and distracted from crying.

You had learned how to prepare a bottle, change a diaper and be more accessible to her, even play with Mayday. It was exhausting. But fun, Miguel had fun.

But now, you weren't that sure if it all had been a facade. His tossing and sleepy mumbles had awakened you, he seemed so distraught and fraught even in his sleep that made you wonder what kind of burden was eating his consciousness away.

There was remorse and pain, that seemed older than his own living years. That only made your heart sunk deeper, aching for him.

"You know you can speak to me, right?"

His eyes closed, giving himself a break from his surroundings.

"I know." He rasped.

"Whenever you're ready, that is."

He hoarded you in his arms and sighed.

He wanted to spill it all out to you, but it hurt too much. Still did, despite ten years passing in between, the wound was too fresh and his mind didn't cooperate with his attempts to make himself right.

But one thing was sure, he was no longer alone. He wasn't much a believer for coincidences, but you had came in a right moment in his life as dark times approached, his guardian angel.

You never judged him, he never felt pointed at whenever you were there. He felt at peace, and what other proof he needed when you gave him space to process everything? You didn't pressure him, but Miguel knew sooner or later he'd have to come completely bare to you.

But this time the thought didn't terrify him. Hopefulness nested within his chest. Slowly he drifted off too sleep, allowing for once, for someone else to watch over him in his sleep.

You draped the sheets over him, despite him being doused in sweat, the weather's cold mood didn't wane. Then kissed his forehead.

He wasn't alone. And you were set into proving him said words. Hopefully one day he'd be ready to explain your biggest concern and doubt.

Who was Gabriella?

------

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