#<- not important right now but it will be later

[natalievoncatte]

Kara is buzzed when it happens. Not drunk, buzzed. A little tipsy. Not lost in the sauce, more “in her cups”. It’s been a rough day of wordsmithing and crime fighting and game night has turned into an impromptu movie night because no one has enough energy to play anything. The Settles of Catan box is gathering dust next to the Pictionary stuff and the other random games that have accumulated at Lena’s apartment ever since they all realized that she has the best bachelorette pad for hosting these things.

Instead they’re watching Twister instead of playing Twister, laughing at how cheesy it is. The movie is almost over but the night is young and Kara is unwinding, so she asks Lena for a favor.

“Can you bring me some?” she says, spotting Lena pouring wine from a box that Kara brought over.

“Sure,” Lena says.

A moment later, Lena joins her.

This moment is inportant. Kara doesn’t know it yet but it’s one of the most important. One day she will rank it in importance with the day she first saved Lena and the first time she walked into Lena’s office and a number of other firsts.

Consider this: It is a warm May night and Lena has the windows open to let the breeze in. It’s maybe seventy in the penthouse and eventually it’ll get cooler. Right now, everyone is lazing about in knockaround clothes. Kara herself is in a pair of old threadbare sweats from the DEO that she kept even after the organization disbanded because they were so comfy, and the ribbed tank she had on under her outfit at work, baring her blocky and sun-tanned shoulders.

(This is because Lena once made a comment about her big meaty shoulders after they attended a spin class together. Kara never consciously said “I’m giving Lena two tickets to the gun show”, but she has her bis and tris on display around her whenever possible anyway. Kara had no reason to flex when she’s opening a bottle of wine -or a box with a screw cap- but she does it anyway. She doesn’t need to pick up Lena’s car… you get the idea.)

Lena, for her part, is dressed in mercilessly short shorts that bare her thick thighs, and she’s put on a sweatshirt. A gray sweatshirt that has the National City university logo on it, a school she did not attend, and is two sizes too big for her. She’s put her hair up in a sloppy ponytail and has taken out her contacts in favor of a pair of rather chunky-framed glasses. She looks like a dork.

A stunning, cute, adorable, huggable, kissable dork.

Lena brings with her two blue plastic tumblers of wine, and hands one to Kara.

The couch is packed. Alex and Nia flank Kara, and their respective partners fill out the sofa. Really, someone should have saved Lena a seat in her own house. She has one in mind, though. She sits right on Kara’s lap as she hands her the wine.

It could be any number of things that cause it. She’s tired, she spiked a few of her drinks with alien rum, it’s been a long and frustrating day and she’s just not thinking right. She doesn’t have her filters in. Words just spill out.

“Good girl,” Kara says, as Lena settles in place.

The reaction is subtle, but to a Kryptonian, obvious. Lena’s heart does a little pitter-patter and she tenses just slightly, just barely, so subtly that only Kara would notice. Her pupils widen and her breath catches sharply.

Alex, seated such that she’s behind Lena, snaps her gaze to them quickly.

Kara does the only thing she reasonably can do. She presses her legs gently to either side to make sure there’s enough room and lets Lena settle in with her. The couch is one of those huge custom jobs that cost more than Kara’s apartment and every stick of furniture in it, so there’s room for Lena to comfortable position herself and lean back into Kara, sipping a bit of wine.

Everyone is else is dead silent, the only sound coming from Lena’s massive TV and theater quality sound system (so there is in fact a lot of sound)

Lena is there and she’s warm and soft, the crown of her head in perfect range for a little sniff. With not much effort Kara could press her lips to Lena’s hairline and give her a little kiss.

She’d done that once. It was after a save, when Kara was holding Lena in her arms after catching a collapsing crane on her back, shrugging off a hundred tons of twisted metal to save her Lena. It was not long after Lena came back to her and things were still weird and fragile and Lex wanted her dead and Kara was so, so scared, so wracked with pain just from knowing what Lena meant to her. The only way she could stop herself from kissing Lena, proper kissing, was by pressing her lips somewhere safe and friendly and kinda a we’re friends kiss and not a I want to marry you please never leave me again kiss.

Lena drinks the wine so fast she gulps, and she’s either thirsty or trying to calm her nerves. There’s a palpable air in the room right now, a heavy tension that’s made them all suddenly stiff and uncomfortable. They pass the rest of the movie in silence.

“Who’s up for a double feature?” Kara says, not wanting to leave but not wanting to test the terms under which she might stay.

“Not me,” Alex says. “We’ve got to get home and pay Ruby for watching Esme. Besides, if we let you picky we’ll end up watching some damn cartoon.”

Nia wnd Brainy similarly demur, citing reasons of their own.

“Okay. I’ll stay and help clean up.”

“You don’t have to,” Lena says, tentatively.

“I don’t want to be a poor guest.”

The rest of the Superfriends pile out of the penthouse and into the night with mildly alarming speed, and Kara is suddenly alone with Lena. The vast penthouse doesn’t feel empty. Instead it feels close in, almost crowded.

Lena slips off of Kara’s lap and plops beside her, yawning. She sets down her empty wine cup and stretches, delightfully arching her back as she throws her arms back up over her head, fingers laced. Kara doesn’t need x-ray vision to see she’s bare beneath the sweatshirt. Her own heart does a little flutter.

She looks so soft, so cozy and inviting, but her legs are such a distraction that Kara can’t help but look at them, her gaze sweeping from ankle to hip with the intensity of an explorer who’s just crested a mountain and set eyes on a promised new land. That’s when Kara realizes that Lena saw her looking and is meeting her gaze firmly.

“Like what you see?”

Kara swallows hard. She can hear the drum of Lena’s own heart, almost feel the same quickening of her pulse as well as the slight waver in her voice.

Kara licks her lips.

“Should we clean up, or…”

“Should we? Or should it wait until morning?”

If Lena had been dropping hint before, she was laying down the gauntlet now. She looked at Kara with lidded eyes and a flushed, wine-silly grin.

Kara swallowed hard. A part of her, a very loud part, still insisted she misinterpreted all of this and Lena was just being friendly. What if she was just being friendly, what if-

“What would you rather do?” said Kara.

Lena shrugged. “I’m tired of thinking, Kara. People ask me what to do all damned day. I’d rather relax and just let someone else take charge for a while.”

The way she said it, especially take charge, was so heavy and drippy and velvety that Kara could get lost in it.

Fuck it.

Kara twisted and, carefully, very carefully, lifted Lena into her lap. Lena made sure to not sit but straddle, her warm thighs bracketing Kara’s as she settled her weight in Kara’s lap and fell against her chest.

Very, very tenderly, with supreme care, Kara pressed her hand to the back of Lena’s head, slipping her fingers into Lena’s hair, and guided her in. She savored every second. The ghost of breath on her lips, the sight of Lena’s blown pupils before she closed her eyes, the feeling of Lena’s fingers digging into her shoulders as their lips met. Lena kissed her softly at first, then more and more greedily, exploding from a gently pressing of lips into something undeniably needy and hot. When Lena moaned into her mouth, Kara’s nerves lit up like a Christmas tree and she instincts grabbed Lena’s hips and and grinds herself up against her.

“Lena,” Kara whispered, “is that my sweatshirt?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Take it off,” said Kara, and then a moment later, “good girl.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #steamy #Lena likes praise

[mariclerc]

hey!... can you write a Charles × horner reader.. where the reader has a crush on since they met.... but Charles doesn't like her very much cuz he thinks she's a nepo baby... but the reader still tries to win his heart.... but one day after a bad race he lashed out on her.... breaking her heart.... later he realizes he also has fellings for her...then ask the reader for forgiveness and a second chance (pls make it a happy ending)... thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for this request! It took me a little while to try to develop it, I hope you like it!! 💗💗

Second chance spark | cl16

Summary: where Charles thinks you're a nepo baby just because of your last name. Warnings: a little angst, horner!reader, christian being an asshole and fluffy fluff.

a/n: let me know if you want a part two!!

The paddock of the Spanish Grand Prix is in big move, thousands of people moving from one place to another and there you find yourself, outside of the Red Bull hospitality talking to several of the girls on the team. This is what your life has become, practically, since being the daughter of Christian Horner you can walk around the hospitality and the paddock as many times as you like during the year.

Most people believe that you only walk around the paddock because it is a case of "nepotism", but in reality you are working very hard to be an engineer and earn a place in motorsport and that's why you find yourself doing internships at Red Bull. Also, your relationship with your father is not the best, so it is always a constant argument, but, even if you try not to give it so much importance, it always hurts.

“Oh god girls, look who's coming!” You say excitedly, Charles was walking through the paddock, to you he always looked like an angel, you blush slightly.

Mara, one of the Red Bull pr girls spoke. “Leclerc? Are you trying to charm the competition's sponsors I see.” she jokes and you blush a little.

You rolled your eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, he probably doesn't even know I'm here.” You say and a silence is present between the three of you. “I'm going to say hi.” You say determined.

Lila rise up an eyebrow. “Careful y/n. You don't want to spook the red prince.”

“Oh, please. Like he'd give me the time of the day.” you scoff.

You excuse yourself and stride confidently towards Charles. He notices your approach and his expression becomes guarded.

You've liked Charles since he debuted in the F4 European series, you always thought he was someone quite nice and talented... Besides of being cute, of course, but nothing ever happened between you, you were simply acquaintances. But now since you are always in the paddock you see him every single day and those feelings that you thought were already buried, were reborn with much more strength.

“Hello y/n. Didn't expect to see you here!” he smiles shyly.

“Well, I just came to say hi, a little greeting doesn't go amiss, don't you think?” you say shyly with a soft voice. “Are you nervous about the race?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah, uh, a little bit... But let's see how it goes.” he says trying to avoid your gaze.

“Well, you have a good shot, maybe you can achieve a podium finish.” You say and he looks at you surprised.

“You actually follow the races?” he asks.

You feign offense. “Of course I do, I'm trying to be an engineer! I may not be out there on the track like you and the boys, but I appreciate a good driver when I see one.” you smile brightly.

Charles looks at you for a long moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Just make sure you're cheering for the right team on race day in the future.” he says teasingly.

“We'll see about that, Leclerc.” you two share a comfortable silence for a moment. You take a deep breath. “Well, I'll leave you alone, I have to go. But good luck in the race, yeah?” You say with a small smile.

“Sure, see you later! And thanks!” he smiles too.

You smiled back and turned to leave, a triumphant glint in your eyes. Charles watches you go, a genuine smile gracing his features. His heart is probably beginning to soften to let you into it.

***

“Is seriously? You talked to him and he didn't think you were a little innocent girl?” Christian said sitting in his chair in the office.

You were at the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes, you had gone to see some engineers and work with them since you are doing your engineer internship at Red Bull and they have been very generous to you, teaching you everything they know, what you didn't realize was that your father was going to need you to have a talk. Such talks never end well, let's put it that way.

“Well, no... But I think he was being nice.” you say quietly. “I just wanted to wish him good luck, that's all... Just a little greeting... it's not a big deal.”

“You know? It's amazing that you're so stupid and dumb.” He says getting up from his chair. “And also by talking to the enemy, you don't really learn, don't you?” he asked sharply.

He never misses the opportunity to speak badly about you on any occasion, he simply doesn't care about your feelings, he is only interested in the job, winning and that's it. As if that were more important than your well-being as his daughter.

You take a deep breath. “Then let me finish my internship in another team.” you said and he looked at you. “I think it would be better for both you and me. Don't you think?” you said in a whisper.

“What? You really want to finish your silly and stupid internship at Ferrari, right? To be after a man who doesn't give you attention, is it serious?” he says sarcastically, that wasn't your idea but since he puts it on the table it doesn't sound too bad... “How ungrateful you are, to waste the fact that I gave you the opportunity to do the internship here.”

“And it was the only thing you did.” you murmured. “Because, as far as I remember, you haven't done anything else.”

“What did you say, huh? You little bitch.” He said, raising his voice towards you.

“What you fucking heard! Do you think it's not difficult to be under your shadow every day? How tiring it is to have everyone tell you that you are a child of nepotism just because all you did was get me the internship here! And you know that I had to sacrifice many things to get here.” you said in screams, taking everything out of you, all the years of abuse and so on. “And don't come pretending to be a saint because we both know you're not.”

You leave his office and everyone looks at you, but you don't care, you couldn't allow your father to call you names and spoke to you in a not very nice way. Your tears blur your vision as you leave the factory and you run to your car, you feel as if you no longer have a weight on your shoulders, but at the same time you are afraid of what may happen later between the two of you.

***

A couple of weeks later, the Austrian Grand Prix is a blur of disappointment, specially for Charles, since he finished a distant third, strategy blunders costing him a shot at the win against Max. The Red Bull Hospitality is abuzz with post-race celebration, a stark contrast to the muted atmosphere in the Ferrari hospitality across the way.

You stand awkwardly near the doorway, your presence a silent question in the room. Charles sits alone, staring into the bottom of an empty beer glass, his face an iron mask of frustration. A knot of worry tightens in your stomach, that's not the Charles you know, always so cheerful and lively despite everything. It's another version of him, darker and more mysterious.

“Charles?” you asked softly.

He looks up, surprise flickering across his features before hardening back into a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” he said sharply.

“I...I just wanted to see if you were alright.” You say shyly.

His harsh tone stings, cutting through the fragile connection the two of you would built.

“Look y/n, I appreciate the concern, but I need to be alone.” he said sharply.

“But-” hurt creeps into your voice.

He interrupts with his voice rising. “No buts! Don't you get it? This is my job, my life! And today, I failed.”

Tears are pricking at your eyes. “I know it hurts, Charles, but you can't let it consume you.”

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. “Easy for you to say! You don't have the pressure, the expectations hanging over your head like a damn guillotine! You have everything on a silver platter whenever and however you want!” he say furiously.

His words are a punch to the gut. The simmering tension between you and your father explodes in your mind.

“You think I don't know the pressure? Do you have any idea what it's like living under my father's shadow? To be constantly judged, to have every decision questioned?” you say with a shaking voice.

Charles stares at you, his anger momentarily eclipsed by surprise.

“I may not be a driver, but I understand this world, Charles... I understand the pressure.” You say as tears form in your eyes.

Your vulnerability hangs heavy in the air. Shame washes over Charles, realizing the depth of his lashing out.

“Y/n, I...” he said with a soft voice.

He reaches out, but you flinches back, a wall of hurt suddenly separating the both of you.

You take a shaky breath. “I think I should go.” you sigh tiredly. “Nice talk.”

You turn towards the door, your heart heavy with a mixture of disappointment and a newfound understanding of the burdens that the both of you share. You run out there with tears running down your cheeks, nothing could have been worse after what happened with your father, but now you lost a person you cared about despite everything.

***

The Italian Grand Prix is in full swing after the summer break. Mechanics scurry around the gleaming red Ferrari, the air thick with pre-race tension. Charles, however, finds himself distracted. He steals constant glances towards the Red Bull garage across the pit lane, searching for a familiar face.

He spots you, standing by Christian, your interaction is tense, your father screams at you while you just only nod at his words while holding a few tears in your shy eyes. A pang of fury shoots through Charles, followed by a wave of regret. His outburst in Austria hangs heavy in the air, a barrier he needs to break. He, despite everything, is moderately informed about what happened between you and your father thanks to Max, and it hurts him not to have approached you much sooner.

The pit lane opens to finally start the grand prix, snapping Charles back to reality. He throws on his helmet, a steely resolve replacing his earlier anxiety.

***

Charles finishes a strong second, the podium it's a little bit bittersweet. He emerges from the car, the cheers of the tifosi a distant echo. All he can think about is you.

He finds you in the Red Bull hospitality, a hesitant knock on the door of your office, announcing his arrival. The room falls silent as he enters.

You stand by the window, your back towards him. Your posture is stiff, but Charles can sense the tremor in your shoulders.

“Y/n?” he say quietly.

You turn slowly, your eyes guarded. The hurt in your gaze is a mirror to his own regret.

“Charles...” you say softly.

There's an awkward silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Charles takes a deep breath.

“I can't apologize enough for Austria. I... I was a complete idiot.” he says.

“Words don't erase the hurt, Charles.” you say in a low voice.

He takes a step closer. “I know. But I wanted you to know... these past few weeks, all I could think about was your words. About the pressure, about being judged... You opened my eyes to a side of you I never knew existed.” He reaches out, hesitantly offering his hand. “And in doing so, I realized... how much I care about you.”

You stare at his hand, then back at his face. A flicker of vulnerability crosses your features before you speak.

“You can't just say things like that, Charles. Not after everything.”

“I know, but I have to try. Because the alternative... the alternative is losing you completely.” says sincerely. He sees a flicker of emotion in your eyes, a flicker that speaks of hope.

“This won't be easy, Charles. My father... Things haven't been so smooth lately between him and I.”

“I know. But maybe, just maybe, we can face it together... Like you said, we both understand this world, the pressure. Maybe we can be each other's support system, not just through wins and losses, but through everything else.” he say softly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You look at him, a question in your eyes.

“So, what are you saying?” you asked him.

Charles takes a chance, the weight of his feelings pulling him forward. He steps closer, your faces inches apart.

“I'm saying that... give me another chance, please. A chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve.” he whispers. “Please, if you want, I beg you on my knees... I'll do anything, but please give me a chance.”

The air crackles with unspoken emotions. You lean in, closing the distance between the both of you. At first, the kiss is hesitant and at the same time soft and slow, then deepens, a promise unspoken but understood.

Pulling away, Charles searches your soft eyes.

“Is that a yes?” he smiled while blushing.

You smile softly, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes.

“Maybe... How about we can do something casual between us, not business related, just to get to know each other better?” you say shyly.

A grin spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him like a victory lap. “It's a deal darling.” you giggled.

He leans in for another kiss, the roar of the engines and the crowd outside a distant echo of the race that's just begun – the race for your hearts.

***

The air crackles with a different kind of tension now. You and Charles break apart from your long awaited kiss, foreheads resting against each other. Relief, hope, and a spark of defiance dance in your eyes.

“We should probably get going before someone sees us, don't you think?” you whisper shyly.

Charles nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He reaches for the door, ready to usher you out, but it swings open before he can touch it.

Standing in the doorway is Christian, his face a thundercloud. The celebratory atmosphere in the room evaporates, replaced with a chilling silence.

“Y/n! My office. Now.” he says with a strong and demanding voice.

You flinch, your body tensing and shaking at your father's tone, but Charles steps forward, his stance protective.

“Actually, she's not going anywhere Horner.” Charles says calmly.

Christian's gaze snaps to him, fury replacing the icy anger. “And who are you to tell me what to do in my own hospitality suite, Leclerc?” he scoffs.

“Someone who cares about her, a concept you seem to have forgotten.” Charles says with a hard and firm voice.

The room collectively gasps. You reaches out a hand to touch Charles' arm, a silent plea for caution. But Charles shakes you off gently, his green eyes boring into Christian's.

“You judge her, belittle her, just because of your own insecurities. You push her away with every harsh word and raised eyebrow.” Charles says defending you, maybe you and him weren't that close, but probably Max told him about what happened between you and Christian.

Christian lunges forward, his hand raised in a threatening gesture. But Charles doesn't back down, he catches Christian's wrist mid-air, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Don't. Even. Think. About. Touching. Her.” Charles says in a low, dangerous voice. “And if you do, you'll deal with me, is that clear?”

Christian throws Charles a withering look before turning and storming out of the room. The silence that follows is deafening. No one had ever spoken to your father that way, not even Max or Jos, but the fact that Charles was the first to do it was something... Shocking, especially for you.

You let out a shaky breath, your gaze flickering between the slammed door and Charles. “I... Charles.” you say in a shaky whisper.

He whispers back. “Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong sweetie.” he takes your hand in his. “He's such a jerk.” He pulls you towards the door, a newfound determination in his eyes. “We're leaving, now. We can deal with your father later, together, okay?” he says.

You hesitate for a moment, then you nodded in agreement, as you walk out of the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn and whispers follow. But you don't care anymore, you have each other, and that's all that matters.

You two step out into the cool evening air, the roar of the Italian crowd a distant hum. Your hands are intertwined, a silent promise against the warm setting sun.

You two may have a long road ahead, filled with challenges and disapproval, but you'll face it together, a united front against the storm.

“Thank you... For what you did in there.” You say softly, he smiles and brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“It's nothing ma belle, I know I may not know the whole story since the begging, but I'm willing to help you.” he says the same in a whisper.

“I just want to know... Who told you about it?” you asked softly.

“Max told me.” He says and you laugh.

“I thought so! It doesn't bother me that he did it anyway.” you say and let out a giggle while you shake your head. “I think it's something you deserved to know.”

He smiles at you tenderly. “How about we forget this mess with your father with a good pizza, huh?” he says softly.

“And where would we go?” you shyly asked him.

“We can go to my hotel room... Unless you don't want to, I know it would be awkward but... I don't know, ugh.” He said and started babbling, you smiled seeing him like that, it seemed like the cutest thing of all, seeing him nervous about doing something simple with you.

You smiled and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “I would love to eat pizza with you in your hotel room Charlie.” you say softly. “So it's a date?”

“It's a date.” He says softly as he kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle. “A date between Ferrari's golden boy and the red bull girl.” he says in a whisper while letting out a giggle.

You smiled tenderly. “You couldn't have said it better.” You whispered back.

To think that a couple of months ago you had not imagined that situation, to see Charles against your father and defending you like a true gentleman, but here you two were. Maybe at the beginning not everything was rosy or he simply didn't tolerate you at all due to false "nepotism" status around you, but you both understand how difficult and complicated this world is, maybe with different perspectives, but you two are there to support each other in the ups and downs.

#f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x horner!reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles x horner!reader #charles x reader #mariclerc fics #charles x you

[afterglowkatie]

someone better | l.w.

leah williamson x reader | 2.6k | There was always someone better. You never felt like you’re enough for anyone, especially not yourself. Would anyone really miss you?

ˏˋ°•*⁀ Heavy themes include: suicidal thoughts, depression, low mental health, thoughts about a suicide attempt, intrusive thoughts, negative thoughts. Please read if you can handle things like that. sorry if it doesn't make sense, it's essentially a vent fic i just needed to get things out it's been a low day so yeah

The air was crisp. You could see your own breath, which would’ve been amusing when you were a kid but now it was a reminder that you were alive. You didn’t mind the cold, at least it gave you something to feel other than the numbness that had taken over your body. The rooftop access in your apartment building wasn’t secured and was never monitored so you found peace in sneaking up onto the rooftop to think and reflect. Seeing the city’s skyline, it was beautiful. A stark contrast to the awful thoughts that plagued your mind. 

Watching the lights shimmering below, all the people that wandered the streets below, all the people that were in their own apartments, yet you never felt more alone than you do right now. A bit ironic. Shakily taking a breath, you decided to sit lean against the edge of the building and let your thoughts consume you. There was no stopping it so why not let your mind run free when you’re in a space without any interruptions. Even if letting your mind run free meant it was slowly killing you in the process.

The thought of death was always in the back of your mind, occasionally making its way to the front when you thought you had exhausted all your other coping mechanisms. Another irony, when you were younger you were always afraid of death. Afraid of dying, but now more than ever it was what you craved. You would happily welcome death if it meant you could disappear from life to never return. Never having to face the pain and suffering of everyday life again.

It’s not like anyone would miss you, or even notice or care that you were gone. That was it really, no one needed you. A hard thought to stomach, one that made your head spin, that made you fall deeper than you already were. They all had someone better, someone more important to them than you were. You were always just someone they could use to fill the time before someone better came along.

Every time you got attached to someone, you’d eventually lose whatever friendship you had with them. A ‘filler friend’, you would call yourself. The one no one thought about unless they needed you or if they had no one else. Always a last resort, never a first choice. No one would truly miss you. They might say they do but a day later they’d go about life like normal and never think or say your name again. You knew these thoughts were irrational to an extent, although the part of you that believed that these negative thoughts were the truth always won. This was the truth that others were afraid of telling you. The truth you had to tell yourself.

You had convinced yourself that all you do is break, burn and drain the life out of others. Always trying to be the person they needed, the person they wanted you to be regardless of your own feelings and pain. Which you obliged, learning from a young age that all you had was yourself. Your own problems and thoughts were only yours to carry. Quickly learning to suppress emotions, fake smiles, and keep a bubbly personality around anyone else. No one needed to be burdened by you, your absence in life would be a blessing, even if no one else knew it yet they would realise not long after you’d left.

But that’s the thing, everyone else in your past had left or moved on. What made anyone else at Arsenal any different? It would be silly to think that this club would stay the same until everyone ended their careers. You all seemed like a family, but even families broke apart. It would also be silly to think that even if everyone separated that you would all stay in contact. Maybe for a little while but it wouldn’t take long before everyone drifted apart from each other, before anyone drifted apart from you. You thought you were easily forgotten. So what difference would it make if you decided to leave now? You were tired of trying to live. Trying to live to everyone’s expectations of who you were and who you should be.

You were more than grateful for how far football has come and thankful for all the fans and support from everyone online and in person. But with that continued to grow the expectations you had to live up to. You were the team’s ray of sunshine. Even the fans saw you that way. You were the one that gave everyone hope. Always knowing how to help lift your teammates up when they were feeling low, especially after a loss of an important match. You never wanted anyone to feel the way you felt now, the way you had always felt. Which is why you continued to put that weight on yourself.

Though being the team’s source of positivity and hope was exhausting. You were getting tired and felt that no one noticed how broken you had become on the inside. Slowly becoming a shell of who you once were, but you would try your best to never let anyone see. Especially not let your teammates see. You were good at that. At never letting anyone in enough for them to see how much pain you suppress each day. No one had to see how much you tear yourself apart just to be enough. To be enough for them, enough for a friendship you saw them all have with each other. 

Friendships were hard, you weren’t funny or interesting enough to keep anyone around for long. Your insecurities were always eating you alive. You found comfort in the coldness of the night more often than you would’ve liked to admit. Your midnight rooftop escapes were becoming more frequent, less time spent in bed and less time spent sleeping. It gives you more time to reflect. Typically hyperfocusing and reflecting on the way each individual group within the team interacted with each other. Always wishing you were enough to have a friendship that they all seemed to have with each other. Sometimes it felt like you were an outsider looking in.

It’s how it always went. You tried to put your all, your entire heart, into friendships and trying to keep connections with others. But it was all so exhausting and tiring. Past experiences constantly kept tainting any new opportunities. People in your past thought it was easier to constantly fumble and drop your heart, letting it shatter into tiny pieces leaving you to try to put it back together before the next person came along to do the exact same. You were used to the cycle, it had happened growing up within your family home life, within your last club, it was exhausting. It left you feeling constantly broken and empty and thinking that maybe you just weren’t deserving of a deeper friendship. Part of you likes to believe that you are deserving but lately it has been harder and harder to believe in that. It has become harder and harder to believe that if you stuck around long enough that things would change, that you would find what you were yearning for. But at the end of the day, who would want someone like you in their life?

Maybe you overthink too much, perhaps you let your mind have too much free range that it makes you believe these awful thoughts. That it makes you believe no one enjoys your company and that everyone would be better off without you. You didn’t know how to control them once they started. Your mind just taking you through each one of your teammates, showing you they were fine without you, better off without you in their lives. 

Though your mind would happily let you forget and not notice how much everyone in the team cared for you. How they had started to notice that you were slowly fading away. You never saw the hushed whispers and how the group conversations had started to slowly shift into others voicing their worries and concerns for you. You were always so lost in your mind during these episodes that you missed the way you gained extra attention from Leah. Leah was always quite attentive and never failed to notice changes in you.

Finally feeling the chill of the air, you blew heat into your hands rubbing them together. Leaning against the edge you looked down. The thoughts to end everything then and there easily slipped into your mind. It was high enough that it would be a definite permanent action, but you could never bring yourself to follow through. Though tonight, everything telling you to follow through with your thoughts were louder than they had ever been. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply. The cold air burning your lungs. The burning feeling you had become used to the more you spent out at nights. Somehow your body could feel numb and on fire at the same time. Perhaps it was just your anxiety but you would never admit to that. Admitting to your feelings is acknowledging that they’re there and that there’s a problem you had to fix. You’d rather pretend.

Looking down once more you were reminded of the one constant you had in your life. The one person who made you feel everything, the one that could make you believe life was worth living. Leah. Were you selfish for feeling this way when you had someone who would give you the world, who would give you everything she had? You felt selfish, that’s for sure. Leah was always enough for you, but there was that one part of you that wanted a friendship so similar to the friendship Leah provided for you before your relationship turned into something more than friends. Thinking about Leah gave you a semblance of hope. A continued faith that you’ll be okay in the long term, a reminder that right now was a short term feeling.

Turning away from the edge and the sidewalk that was calling your name, you decided to go back to the warmth of your apartment and the person who was currently occupying one side of your bed. Rubbing your arms, trying to defrost a little before climbing in beside Leah. You didn’t want to share the coldness that plagued your body when all she ever offered you was warmth, both physically and mentally. Leah looked peaceful while she slept, you smiled. It wasn’t big but it was real. Your smile around Leah was always real, no matter how small. You love Leah, and if you couldn’t live for yourself you would do it all for her. Eventually you would be able to do it for yourself, but anything that helped keep you here, keep you alive was enough until you could manage to want it for yourself.

Leah knew how much you were trying. She saw the pain in your eyes, she knew you well enough to be able to see right through you. You never liked to keep things from Leah, but you could never find the right words to tell her so you silently hoped she could see. Leah knew you went up to the rooftop most nights, but she also knew you were strong enough to pull yourself away and back into her arms when you needed it. She had followed you up to the rooftop, curious to see where you had been spending your nights. She watched from afar, worried since you were too close to the edge for her liking. But then she saw the way you were able to take yourself away from the edge and back down. 

Leah watched from afar for a little while. Every single time you came back down to bed Leah would give you endless amounts of love and support. Whispering words of encouragement and praise that you didn’t think you needed to hear. Leah trusts that you would come to her if your thoughts ever got too much. And as much as you wouldn’t want to burden her, you also know deep down you would seek her out instead of following over the edge of the rooftop.

Every time she was thankful to see you walk back through the doors to your apartment, to your room, even if you hardly slept she knew you were safe. Knowing that you wouldn’t accept the help from anyone if they offered it outright, Leah would help you in other ways. Subtle ways that you hadn’t completely noticed yet. Leah would make sure all the laundry was done, folded and put away. She watered all the plants you had forgotten about so they wouldn’t die and when you left this episode you wouldn’t feel bad for neglecting your babies. Leah would give you a routine that you followed each day so you didn’t have to use up the energy you needed to use to fight on something mundane, on something Leah could do for you. 

She wanted you to be able to give your all into this fight, one she knew you would be doing on and off for the rest of your life. But if it meant having you around then she would do whatever it took. Leah knew you were capable of taking care of yourself but she also knows how hard it can be to get up and fight to live every day. Leah was proud of you for continuing to get through every day.

Leah smiled when she woke up to you climbing into bed, before dawn she noticed which was a new record for you lately. Instantly Leah was in your embrace, the smile on her face just from your presence lulled the screaming thoughts enough for you to believe you could have some sense of sleep.

‘I hope it wasn’t too cold out there tonight,’ Leah’s voice was low and raspy, a mix of trying to not be too loud with it being so late in the night along with having just woken up, ‘Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold baby,’ Leaning down you placed a kiss on the top of her head, her thoughtfulness was comforting.

‘You don’t have to worry about me Le,’ You felt her body suddenly stiffen at your words, tending to overanalyse your words and thinking the worst, ‘You’re stuck with me forever babe,’ A small chuckle left your lips and Leah started to relax again in your arms. Maybe you weren’t a problem in people’s lives, maybe you needed better judgement on who to give your heart to. Giving your heart to Leah was easy, you know she’ll keep it safe. Romance always comes easily to you. Giving your heart to a friend was where you struggled. But now wasn’t the time to lose yourself again.

‘Never forget you have a place in this world. You’re special, important and loved,’ Leah always knew what to say and when to say it. It was like she could read your mind, which at times scared you, ‘I love you,’

‘I love you too, Le,’ Holding her close gave you hope that one day you could feel whole again, ‘Now, my love, you need to sleep,’ Even though she was in and out of sleep you could still cause a faint blush to spread across her face just from your words.

‘Only if you sleep,’ Before Leah knew it she had fallen back to sleep. Watching Leah sleep, you like to believe her peaceful aura would send you to sleep and that it wasn’t you falling asleep from pure exhaustion. Your fight was far from over, you were only just beginning but she gave you the strength you needed each day to make progress. Always reminding you on days you made no progress that waking up and living was progress enough. Making it through each day, no matter what, was enough. You were enough for Leah. You were enough for everyone else around you. You just had to believe to be enough for yourself.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x you #awfc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #woso #womens football #awfc x reader #awfc imagine

[charlesslut16]

hey babe i loved the max fic about the one wherereader pregnant, my idea/vision for part two is probably reader move somewhere probably england and live there fast forward years later they run into max. i think that's all i have thanks loveee

-gaining you to love-

summary : you and max meet again after all the trauma you had went trough

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none?

note : i hope that you like this and please request more!!!

masterlist ; Part 1

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

Years had passed since you had last seen Max Verstappen. After the heartbreak, you had packed up your life and moved to England, seeking a fresh start away from the painful memories. 

You found solace in the quaint countryside and raised your child with the love and dedication that had always been your strength. In your heart, you still wished he and you could raise your child together.

But this would still always be your dream.

Your child, a vibrant and curious soul, grew up knowing about their father only through the carefully chosen stories you shared and the races you watched on television. 

It had never crossed your mind to not tell your child, who their father is. It just never felt right to you. How could you not allow your child to know the person that was one's your most loved person and their dad.

Max’s name was synonymous with greatness in the world of Formula 1, and even though you had distanced yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride every time his name was mentioned.

One crisp autumn afternoon, you were out shopping in the bustling streets of London with your now four-year-old child. The city had a way of making you feel both anonymous and connected, a perfect blend for the life you had built.

It was not the perfect life you had chosen, but it was as perfect as it could be. As you walked through the crowded market, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Max, your max, standing just a few feet away. He looked different, older, more mature, but the spark in his eyes was unmistakable. 

He had the same smile and the same voice, both features that broth you great happiness, a long time ago. Your heart skipped a beat, memories flooding back with an intensity that took your breath away.

“Max,” you whispered quiet, not quite believing your eyes. Max, your max, standing in front of you. Impossible, right? Your child looked up at you, sensing the shift in your emotions. 

Max took a step closer to the both of you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to confirm that you were real. If it was really the love of his life.“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said softly. “How have you been?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice, not sure if words would come out surely and understandable.“I’ve been…good. How about you? You’ve done well for yourself. You have grown more mature”

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. A smile that had not shown like that, since you left.“Yeah, it’s been a wild ride. But I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

Before you could respond, your child tugged at your sleeve, looking curiously at Max. You did not thread this moment, but you sure were nervous.“Mommy, is that?”

You took a deep breath, kneeling down to your child’s level. “This is, Max,” you said gently. Not too sure if your child was ready for this important moment in their life.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at the child, realization dawning on him. It was his your child. The child he did not chose. “Is this…?” he began, his voice trailing off and cracking slightly.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yes, Max. This is our child.”

He looked back at you, a mix of emotions playing across his face—shock, regret, longing. All because his younger self chose his career and not his family. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You agreed, and the three of you found a quiet café nearby. As you sat down, the tension was palpable. Your child, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents, chattered happily about their favorite books and toys. 

Max listened intently, a soft smile on his face, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. He had never realized how the feeling of being content really felt until this exact moment.

Once your child was occupied with a coloring book, Max reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I was scared, and I handled it all wrong. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you listened to his words. “I was hurt, Max. So hurt. But I had to be strong for our child. I moved here to start over, to give them a good life.”

“You’ve done an incredible job,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. “But I want to be part of their life. I want to be a part of your life. I want us back. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at your child, then back at Max. The pain of the past was still there, but so was the love you had always felt for him. And always will.“It won’t be easy,” you said softly. “But I want what’s best for our child. They deserve to know their father.”

Max nodded with a lift of his lip, his grip on your hand tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. I want to be here for both of you. To have you both with me.”

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions as Max integrated himself into your life. He was patient and understanding, taking the time to get to know your child and to rebuild the trust between you. 

The bond that had once been so strong, that you had thought would never be like that, slowly began to mend, and the love you thought you had lost forever started to rekindle.

One evening, as you sat together in your cozy living room, your child asleep upstairs, Max turned to you with a serious expression. “I want to make up for lost time, Y/N. I want to be a family. Will you give me another chance?”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination there. The years of hurt and loneliness had taken their toll, but the love had never truly faded. “I want that too, Max,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve always wanted that. I had always hoped for a happy ending for us.”

Max pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both let the tears flow. It felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey. The pain of the past was still there, but it was overshadowed by the promise of a future together.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Max built a life together, full of love and laughter. Your child thrived, surrounded by the warmth of a united family. Max balanced his racing career with his newfound responsibilities, proving to be a devoted father and partner.

The journey had been long and painful, but it had led you to this moment—standing together at the finish line, not as competitors, but as a family. And as you looked at Max, you knew that despite everything, you had finally found your way back to each other.

In your heart, you had truly known that this would be the outcome. It was a dream that came through and even tho you all went to tremendous pain you would go through it as a family.

A family he chose.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen angst #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #formula one imagine #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one fanfiction

[spencerreiddddd]

No second chances

Content: Angst, NO HAPPY ENDING

Gist: You were engaged to Spencer Reid until he called it off when he met Maeve, 7 years later your on a serial killers hit list. When the past revisits you and the BAU is standing on your front door, they are shocked to see the life you have constructed for yourself.

It was another regular morning, the same routine you had accustomed yourself to three years ago.

Getting out of your shared bed with your husband who was already at work, you walked over to your son’s room. Your precious Owen was lying in his bed waiting for you to come get him like you did every morning for the past three years.

“My precious!” You exclaim picking Owen up and holding him in your arms as he giggled and hugged your neck.

You got yourself and Owen ready for the day, you had breakfast and now you were getting your tote bag and keys so you could head out the house to pick up some groceries you ordered when there was a loud knock on the front door, causing you to flinch. Turning your head to see Owen sitting on the sofa with his toy car you walk over to the door and open it.

You felt your body run cold, all the warmth your body held had disappeared in a matter of seconds. You had unconsciously stiffened at the sight in-front of you. There on your front porch stood JJ and Spencer. Spencer the man you had loved so dearly for years, the man who had caused you so much happiness yet destroyed your being in the end. Your ex fiancé.

He stared back… his features betraying him, his mouth slightly agape, his eyebrows raised and his eyes… they were sad. It felt like hours standing there, the noise around you muted as you both stood there facing each other 7 years later.

JJ’s voice broke through the heavy silence. “Y/N?” She says voice light and surprised. “JJ, Hi.” You can barely manage to breathe out. “Can we come in Y/N there’s something important we need to speak about.” JJ says softly as she steals a glance at Spencer’s frozen figure. Before you can answer you feel small hands wrap around your calves, looking down to see Owen pressed and wrapped against your legs as he peers up at JJ and Spencer.

If you weren’t looking at Owen you would have seen the way Spencer sucked in air and tensed at the sight of a toddler wrapped around you. “Yes, come in.” You finally say looking back up and opening the door up further so they could walk in. As you turn to walk back inside you pick up Owen placing him on your hip and lead JJ and Spencer to your living room. “So this is little Owen…” JJ says smiling widely at the little boy in your arms who was too afraid to be out of your embrace. You laugh softly, remembering that when Spencer broke up with you JJ was the only one who kept in touch with you almost everyday after and until now. “Owen?” Spencer said in a low confused tone.

You looked up at him seeing his pained eyes. “My son.” You said scanning his face for a reaction. Spencer’s face seemed to be drained of any color, he looked pale and sick. It made your stomach hurt.

JJ seemed to want to punch herself as the next question exited her mouth. “Is your husband home?” She said not daring to look at Spencer.

“No he’s at work, is everything alright?” You ask concerned. “No Y/N… your family is being targeted.” Spencer speaks up before JJ can. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Excuse me what!?” You exclaim.

“Y/N… your husband is a lawyer and in his last case he locked away a convicted serial killer right?” JJ asserts in a questioning way. You nod your head confirming. “Well this serial killer has an unknown apprentice who’s been hurting people in order to find your family’s location. We believe he is planning to murder your family tonight once your husband gets home based off his profile.” JJ says reaching for your hand to give you some sort of comfort.

You felt helpless, confused, and angry.

“W-What are you guys going to do then.” You say looking down and Owen and holding him closer to yourself. “We are going to take you to the base and keep you there until we have found him, we will have decoys here in the house to act and look like your family so the killer can come in thinking it is you and your family at home.” JJ says confidently, believing their plan will work.

“Okay… okay, let me get some stuff.” You say getting up frantically and going into your bedroom to pack your necessities.

“You knew she had a whole family?!” Spencer asks JJ in a low tone, brows furrowed, confused and slightly angry. “Of course I did, we stayed in touch after you…” JJ trailed off looking at Spencer pityingly.

“You didn’t think of telling me?” Spencer says agitated. JJ furrows her brows in confusion “of course not, what business is it of yours Spence, you ended things. You have no right to know if her life is going good or not.” JJ says a little disappointed in Spencer’s self absorption.

You walk back into the room before Spencer can answer back. “I’m ready, but will James meet us at the base?” You ask concerned for your husband’s safety. “I’ve notified Rossi to pick him up, they should be at the base by the time we get there.” JJ assures you and leads you and Owen out into the black SUV.

Once the elevator doors open and you walk through the glass doors you see James talking to Morgan and tapping his foot on the ground like he does when he’s worried. “Daddy!” Owen exclaims loudly catching James attention and his face washes over with relief. “Baby.” James says bringing you into a hug and kisses your temple as he grabs Owen from your arms. Spencer feels like he had gotten stabbed in his gut at the scene before him, seeing you wrapped up in another man’s arms, seeing the product of your love for another man sitting in your husbands hands made him physically sick. He felt nauseous and angry, angry at himself…Angry because the realization that he could have… should’ve been in James position right now next to you and yet he isn’t, and it’s his own fault.

“Thank you for bringing them so quickly.” James says with a sigh of relief as he shakes JJ’s hand and reaches out for Spencer’s however Spencer rejects his hand shake causing James to awkwardly put his hand back and then put it on your waist. Making Spencer wish he had shaken James hand so it wouldn’t be sitting on your waist as it was right now.

Spencer can feel Morgan’s disapproving gaze on him.

“Anything for a friend.” Morgan says as he ruffles Owen’s hair and then Y/N’s which causes you to laugh, and is yet another stab in the gut to Spencer.

“Friend?” James asks looking between you and the FBI agents. You clearly your throat and look at Morgan and JJ for help. “Oh uh we used to hang out at a bar and we all became very close after we met Y/N.” JJ says rushed and trying to find a cover up for the real reason they knew you.

Covering up that you dated Spencer since you both were 22 after you met at a chess table in a park, how’d you got engaged at 25 but Spencer ended your engagement after he began talking to Maeve. He casted you aside and worshiped the floor Maeve walked on until she herself upped up and left him to go back to her ex and left Spencer alone and unhappy, realizing he had lost you for nothing.

This was supposed to be a short story but I just kept yapping, so I’ll probably make a part 2. If this is crappy I’m so sorry this is my first post ever and my first writing ever. Hopefully it isn’t such a disappointment.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #Spencer #spence reid #spencer reid x reader #angst #no happy ending #hurtful #criminal minds imagine #oneshot

[hxnbi]

⸻ ꗃ dreaming you

₊˚❀ synopsis: their reaction to you falling sleeping on them ₊˚❀ pairings: choji tomiyama, umemiya hajime, hayato suo, haruka sakura, jo togame, akihiko nirei x gn. reader (separate)

CHOJI TOMIYAMA | 兎耳山 丁子 ─ ❀ °. ⁺ ♡

Oh? You’re sleeping? On him? Well, that’s all the invitation CHOJI needs to snuggle up right beside you and sleep with you, cuddling up as close to your side as possible. But that nap of yours would eventually come to a stubborn halt as you later found yourself opening your eyes and left fully awake with a teenage boy clinging onto you akin to a koala latching to a tree for dear life. His warmth and closeness might be startling at first—scratch that, always startling, that unpredictable oaf—but there's something endearing about his unabashed, shameless affection that you can't help but smile at his innocent, childlike need for closeness. 

Choji is a master at acting innocent and harmless—whether intentional or not—regardless, he will make sure you're wrapped up snugly in his embrace, even if it means you become his personal pillow for the night. But you were already just as smitten, even if it meant you occasionally lost sleep over his enthusiastic cuddling.

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮 一 ─ ❀ °. ⁺ ♡

Meet clingy boy part two, Hajime UMEMIYA. Similar to that of the likes of Choji, his affection knows no bounds, and he’s not shy about showing it. Your relationship with Umemiya was already very affectionate to the likes of practically any passerby who was unfortunate enough to see Umemiya’s shameless PDA, but seeing you asleep brought out a whole new side of him. Umemiya would immediately whip out a cellphone and snap a quick picture before gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and watching you sleep the rest of the time you dreamt. His clinginess reaches new heights as he spends the entire day replaying the moment in his mind, cherishing the memory of your peaceful slumber.

The next day, you would glance at your boyfriend's screen and see the most unflattering picture of you asleep from the day before; capturing your drooling face and bed hair in all its glory, now immortalized as his damn wallpaper. 

"How romantic," you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes and plotting your revenge with a particularly embarrassing photo of him in mind.

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋 隼飛  ─ ❀ °. ⁺ ♡

SUO might come off as aloof on the outside, but behind closed doors, he’s a fountain, nay, a geyser of affection. He may not act like it, but he enjoys and revels in the trust you place in him, enough to be able to put down your guard to such an extent that you were able to fall asleep right on his shoulder. His calm exterior melts away almost instantaneously in private, revealing a man who takes immense pleasure in your comfort and happiness.

Suo has sharper eyes than most. His keen gaze caught the subtle shift in the rhythm of your conversation. With your fingers entwined with his, he sensed the impending short periods of silence. At that moment, he discerned that you were on the verge of drifting off. Feeling the gentle slackening of your grip on his hand, he redirected his attention to you, observing as your eyelids drooped with drowsiness, beginning to have nodded off. With a chuckle and soft and gentle smile, right before you fully dozed off, Suo took off his Furin jacket and placed it over you, ensuring you were warm and cozy.

Your subconscious self then cuddled close to it, burying your face in its familiar scent. No one would or could ever lay their hands on that same jacket again. Mark his words. 

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜 遥 ─ ❀ °. ⁺ ♡

The second SAKURA realizes your head is on his shoulder—or heaven forbid his lap—he explodes, both figuratively and quite literally. His face flushes a deep red, and his heart races as if he’s just run a marathon. But in all his frantic, blushing mess, his pride prevents him from moving and disturbing your sleep. In his eyes, nothing is more important than your comfort. So, instead, Sakura sits still and stiff as a statue as he waits for you to wake up. The effort it takes for him to remain motionless is comical to any passerby who has the chance to see the seemingly constipated expression on Sakura’s face. Still, he does it for you and only you, and he is not against anyone who dares to disturb this peace.

“S-Sakura-san! What are you—”

“Be quiet right now or I’ll snap your neck and sew your mouth shut.”

“Ahah… right.”

JO TOGAME | 十亀 条 ─ ❀ °. ⁺ ♡

TOGAME is genuinely shocked when you show him even an ounce of affection, so to have you, locked hands, sitting alone and peacefully on the bench, resting your head on his shoulder, leaves him utterly speechless. Togame nails the intimidating exterior yet is incredibly sensitive, kind, and loving on the inside. His heart races as he slowly takes your body in his calloused, bigger hands and gently places your head on his lap, careful not to wake you. Your body was hardly even moving, and yet you felt warmer than ever when at his side. Perhaps this was what true love felt like…

And so, he sits there, his heart pounding, cherishing the moment of having you so close to him. It didn’t matter if he would feel sore later. All he was concerned about at that moment was you being peacefully asleep right there at his side and no one elses.

AKIHIKO NIREI | 楡井秋彦 ─ ❀ °. ⁺ ♡

NIREI is the polar opposite of Togame when it comes to handling affection, frantic both inside and out when he sees your head resting on his shoulder. If, at that moment, there were an Olympic event for internal freakouts, then Nirei would win first prize in a landslide. His mind races, wondering what he did to deserve such a divine being, choosing him of all people as your significant other. Nirei’s flustered reactions are a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy. Thus, still in his panic, Nirei remained tense and blushing furiously, afraid to move a muscle in case he woke you, but in his mind, he was running laps of pure happiness and disbelief, wishing that this moment would last forever. 

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

#wind breaker #windbreaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii) #wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker headcanons #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker drabbles #choji tomiyama #hajime umemiya #akihiko nirei #jo togame #hayato suo #haruka sakura #choji tomiyama x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #jo togame x reader #sakura haruka x reader #hayato suo x reader #akihiko nirei x reader

[spooky-pop]

What base shapes do you keep in mind while drawing, im absolutely terrible at getting proportions right?

Ok apologies in advance because I am NOT great at explaining things.

When I start drawing any character I ALWAYS start with shapes. I feel it's important to get familiar with your subject before you draw it and with enough practice it'll start sticking in your brain. There is no harm grabbing renders or screencaps and tracing over them to get an idea of shapes! I absolutely did a lot of studies that way before I got comfy drawing trolls. Breaking things down to their basic form is important, it helps you visualize shape and volume! So when I draw Trolls, it's a lot of round shapes, bean shapes, and triangles. I made an example with this image of Poppy:

Adding in guidelines is important because it can help you figure out placement for facial features and what direction you'll be drawing them. This is an example of how my starter sketches would look, with similar shapes to this! I just start slapping down shapes and worry about the details much later. I also almost ALWAYS draw this eye mask because it really helps me figure out eye and brow placement.

Now, I have another breakdown but this time with my own rough sketch of Darcey:

Again, more shapes to figure out form. And I sort of make this "mitten" shape to block out hands. You can make edits from this point on to get proportions and perspectives right.

But yeah, this is the shortest simplest explanation I can give regarding the beginning of my process. Understanding and grasping volume is a big thing for me!

#ask #art talk #dreamworks trolls #my art #trolls #art help

[izelascendant]

Sportsmanlike

Chapter 5 - Stanford, Part 2

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Rating | Mature Summary | Things begin to spiral between them. Lots of drama in this chapter. And smut. Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig Tags | Tennis, Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Infidelity, Eventual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationships Word Count | 4.2K Author's note | Important note! This is the last chapter of the FIRST part of this series. Don't worry there's more drama to come in the second part. SMUT warning.

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Sportsmanlike on AO3 | Chapter 1 - US Open 2006, Chapter 2 - Finalist Fusion, Chapter 3 - Aftermath and Accolades, Chapter 4 - Stanford, Chapter 5 - Stanford, Part 2 | Sportsmanlike PART 2 - soon

Art

Acting normal around Tashi proves to be more of a challenge than they had expected. After that night, Art finds himself exchanging secret glances with her, his gaze filled with a hidden hunger that only she can understand whenever they’re around Tashi. And when they’re alone, they fight to keep their hands to themselves.

Not even a week has passed, and she finds herself unable to resist Art. Tashi joins her to watch one of Art’s matches, and she finds herself unamused by his distraction.

Tashi leans back in her seat, a hint of annoyance in her voice as she observes Art on the court below. "He seems distracted," she notes, her eyes fixated on his movements. "I can tell his mind is elsewhere." Her observation rings true, his focus clearly divided between the game and the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“Yeah, it's weird.” She fakes her agreement, a small, secret smile playing on her lips as she observes Art’s athletic body. Her eyes are glued to his every move—she takes in his focused expression, the way his muscles ripple with each swift movement—and the determination on his face.

After the match, she finds herself knocking at the door to his dorm room. Very few words are exchanged between the moment he opens the door and the moment she's lifted onto his desk, her legs wrapping around him as their lips collide in an impatient, desperate kiss.

“Take off your pants.” Her words come out in a rush as she reaches for the band of his sweatpants, hardly giving him a chance to catch his breath.

Art stops her for a moment, his mouth moving along her neck, kissing his way down her delicate skin as he mumbles a soft protest against her flesh. "Not yet." With a swift motion, he pulls off her shirt, tossing it aside, leaving her exposed to his touch. "I still haven't finished what I started at the party."

The sight of him settling down on his knees before her, nestling between her legs, provokes a delicious shiver of anticipation within her. She watches him intently, her breathing growing shallow at the knowledge that he has waited patiently, eager to please her. The thought only fuels her desire.

As she leans against his desk, he strips her from her shorts and gently lifts her legs onto his shoulders, his firm yet tender grip securing her in place. 

He’s sloppy with it—practically making out with the soft spot between her thighs—shamelessly lapping his tongue over and over. Her grip on the desk tightens instinctively, her body arching involuntarily against him. Her fingers tangle through his curls, tugging gently as a mix of cries and moans escape her lips.

Art occasionally pauses for a moment to gaze up at her, his eyes locked with hers, a thin strand of saliva still hangs from his lips as he takes a moment to catch his breath.

It probably should’ve stopped there but there's no going back now as their desire for each other takes over. They don't even bother to move to the bed, instead finding themselves right where they are, with her leaning back against the desk—her legs wrapped tightly around Art's hips—his face pressed into the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

And there goes the rest of their afternoon.

Tashi

About a week later, things start to take a turn. 

Late afternoon, just as the sun is setting, Tashi joins her on the court—the golden hue of the setting sun bathes the court in a warm glow. To her surprise, Tashi takes things easy, each swing of her racket is unusually unhurried. The atmosphere is laid back, and the sounds of their racquets striking the ball and their soft laughter fill the air.

"You going easy on me today?" She asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Tashi's eyes narrow as she speaks, a note of accusation in her voice. Her words hang in the air, breaking the casual atmosphere between them. “Art told me about you two.”

The atmosphere on the court takes a serious turn as she stops playing and looks at Tashi with a stern expression. "What?" The tension between them is palpable.

Tashi adopts a nonchalant, even slightly apologetic, tone—trying to play to her sympathies—her nonchalant demeanor betraying her manipulative intentions. "Listen," she starts, her tone laced with false sympathy. "I didn't ask about anything, he just came to me and told me everything." She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know if he was trying to brag or what," she says, the subtext clear in her deliberate ambiguity.

Her confusion and disappointment wash over her, leading her to let out a frustrated sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to make sense of the situation. 

Tashi approaches her with an almost babying tone, her voice laced with a facade of sweetness. "Baby, I'm sorry."

She can't help but lean into Tashi, seeking comfort in the midst of her disappointment. Her voice is hushed as she whispers, "I can't believe him." The depth of her frustration is palpable—yet—she finds herself caught in the web of Tashi's manipulation.

Tashi's tone is soothing as she comforts her, wrapping her in a hug. "He's just a boy," she says, "Boys are stupid like that."

Turns out, she seeks comfort in the familiar warmth of Tashi's arms just as much as Tashi too needs comfort, her own hidden emotional turmoil creating her need to hold onto her just as tightly. In that moment, she allows herself to find peace in their closeness, unaware of the hidden desperation within Tashi.

“Speaking of, I think Patrick’s cheating on me.” A sudden shift in conversation occurs when Tashi shares her worry, her words carrying a hint of uncertainty and unease

She leans back, her eyes widening in genuine astonishment. "Are you serious?"

Tashi's manipulation runs deep, her desire for control over her clear. She sees no happiness in her own relationship with Patrick—and in a twisted way—she wants to prevent her from finding happiness with Art. Tashi knows how to play the game, to control and maneuver the situation to her advantage.

"I mean, he's on tour. I don't know what I expected." Tashi says, her sigh tinged with sadness and disappointment.

“Fuck him.” She attempts to comfort Tashi, her protective instincts kicking in. "Seriously, what is wrong with those two?" she murmurs, her loyalty to Tashi shining through as she offers support.

Tashi's expression softens as she reaches out and takes her hand gently, her grip gentle but firm. "Hey, come sleep over at my dorm tonight," she says softly.

She finds herself agreeing eagerly to Tashi's suggestion, her desire to be there for her friend shining through. "I'll come over later," she confirms with a gentle smile, a touch of warmth in her eyes.

As the two girls part ways, there's an intimate moment where they share a look that holds a silent understanding—and perhaps a hint of something more.

As she rounds a corner on her way back to the building, she suddenly spots Art heading her direction. His presence catches her off guard, and she crosses her arms over her chest as if subconsciously bracing herself for the encounter. The timing couldn't be more comical.

The moment he sees her, he cluelessly makes his way up to her, a smile on his face as he greets her. “Hey, are you coming back from—“

"You told Tashi," she cuts him off, the disappointment evident in her voice. Her frown deepens as she looks at him, her frustration palpable."What part of 'this stays between us' did you not understand?"

Art's expression falters, and a mix of guilt and frustration washes over him. "No, listen," he says fervently, wanting to explain himself. "You know how Tashi is—she always manipulates her way into things," he tries to defend himself. "She coaxed it out of me."

Although Art is telling the truth about Tashi's manipulation, she remains unconvinced, choosing to side with Tashi.

Her arms remain crossed over her chest, her expression hard. "That's not what I heard from her," she retorts, her voice firm. "I just wanted some damn privacy, and you messed up."

"Well, Tashi's lying—that's such bullshit," Art's frustration and desperation to defend himself grows as he tries to make his case. "What reason would I have to go tell Tashi about all this?" he reasons, his voice tinged with a mix of defensiveness and disbelief.

“I don't know, but maybe you should get your priorities straight.” Her cold tone leaves Art feeling stung, the accusation hanging heavy in the air between them. 

The sight of her leaving, her words echoing in the silence, leaves him feeling both hurt and frustrated. A small part of him breaks from the unexpected rejection, questioning the situation and their connection.

The calm ambiance within Tashi's dorm brings a sense of comfort. The room is bathed in a soft, warm glow cast by the faint orange light, creating a cozy atmosphere. The familiar melody of their favorite music echoes softly from the old stereo stationed atop the shelf, adding a touch of familiarity and nostalgia to the scene.

♬ I never was in love

You know that you were never good enough

Fall asleep right next to me

You know that you were never good enough … ♬

Tashi's laughter fills the air as she holds her face still, carefully attending to her eyebrows with a pair of tweezers. "Sit still," she chuckles, her tone filled with a hint of playfulness. 

"Don't make my eyebrows disappear." She warns jokingly, a glint in her eyes as she peers up at Tashi.

“Done.” Tashi's thumb brushes against her eyebrows and she leans back to examine her work. A soft smile playing on her lips. Tashi’s compliment "beautiful" hangs in the air, and she can't help but let out a small huff of appreciation. 

The warm lighting and soft atmosphere of the room add to the intimate moment, casting a gentle glow over the two girls as they sit together.

"You know, I missed this." She murmurs, feeling a similar sentiment reflected in Tashi's expression. Just as Tashi is about to stand up, she stops her, taking her hand gently. “Why did you really invite me over?” She asks, feeling there might be something underlying to Tashi’s intentions. “Need me because your boyfriend isn’t around?” The question lingers in the air, its playful tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Tashi smirks and with a firm yank, she draws her closer, her words carrying meaning. "You're here because nobody understands me like you do," she admits, her tone surprisingly sincere.

The room falls silent as their eyes lock, a charged intensity passing between them. The warmth of their joined hands contrasts with the electric air, creating a palpable tension that fills the intimate space.

As their faces draw closer, she can't help but let a smirk tug at her mouth. "What are you doing?" she asks in a tone tinged with playfulness. Tashi leans in further, their lips just millimeters apart, their breaths meeting in the charged space between them.

Tashi's response is direct and without hesitation. "You know exactly what I'm doing," she retorts.

"You sure you want this?" Her heart races with the implications of their actions. Tashi's reply is swift and decisive as she smirks. "I want it even more now that there aren't two losers watching us."

At that moment, any traces of mixed feelings she harbored towards Tashi go out the window.

The passion between them burns even more intensely than the first time, though this time it doesn’t feel rushed. They get to take their time and appreciate each other, the two girls naked and scrambling around in Tashi’s sheets. Their limbs seem to mingle around randomly—kissing each other’s neck, shoulders, back, collarbone, breasts.

Tashi’s eyes flicker down to a spot a little below her hip, her fingers gently tracing the contour of the small tattoo—a lily. With a soft surprise, she speaks up. "How come I've never noticed this before?"

"Oh, it's stupid." She chuckles softly, looking down at her own tattoo. "I got it done when I was sixteen. It’s pretty much hidden all the time," she adds, explaining the discreet placement of the tattoo.

Tashi's fingers glide gently along the pattern of her tattoo, the touch sending tingles down her spine. "Why a lily?"

"Because I like lilies." Her answer is simple, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "And because it symbolizes a fresh start," she adds, a note of deeper meaning in her words.

The room fills with the sounds of their labored breaths and the soft rustle of bedsheets as their bodies press closer together. The intensity of their kiss deepens, a silent language of desire and connection passing between them. 

A hint of playfulness dances in her eyes as she gives Tashi an instruction. "Sit," she says—her voice is firm but the corner of her mouth curls up into an adorable smirk. She pats her own shoulders, signaling for Tashi to obey the command.

"Sit? You want me to sit on your face?" Tashi repeats, a note of surprise in her tone.

"Don't make me beg." She teases, the tone of her voice laced with a hint of desire. She stares directly into Tashi's eyes, conveying that she's absolutely certain of her request.

With Tashi hovering over her, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of desire, the atmosphere between them thick with anticipation. Her eyes gleam with excitement as she gently grabs onto Tashi's thighs, securing her position and drawing her closer to her, bringing her down comfortably.

Tashi's slender body moves gracefully, her hips rolling back and forth in a way that's both captivating and sensual. Soft breaths of pleasure escape her, her desire growing with each lap of the redhead’s tongue against her core. 

In return, she relishes the sensation of being beneath Tashi, embracing her submissive role in all aspects of her relationship with Tashi—on the court, and in bed. Being the one to bring Tashi this type of pleasure is a rush—a drug she's helpless to resist.

But, what brings her the most pleasure is waking up in Tashi's arms the next morning. The feeling of their bodies pressed against each other, skin-to-skin, it feels like she's won something precious—Tashi, and Tashi is all hers, even if only for that night. No matter how much she endures throughout their relationship—the tennis, Art, Patrick—what truly matters is this moment, where she holds Tashi close and feels in love.

But as she lies there in Tashi's arms, there's a small nagging voice in the back of her mind. She's aware of Tashi's manipulative tendencies, but she chooses to turn a blind eye, if it means she can have moments like this—moments where she feels loved and adored. It's a calculated decision, a compromise she's made, but the question remains—is it truly love, or merely a prize she's won at a cost?

Her thoughts are interrupted as Tashi’s phone's ringer breaks the peaceful silence. Tashi groans and pulls away from her, reaching for her bedside table to grab the phone, leaving her with Tashi's back facing her as she answers the call. 

"Oh, it's you. How’ve you been, baby?" Hearing the nickname ‘baby’ coming out of Tashi's mouth sends a wave of annoyance through her, Patrick's presence looming over like a dark shadow.

She pulls the sheets over her head to muffle the sound of Tashi's voice, desperately seeking to drown out the painful reality confronting her.

"I miss you too." Tashi chuckles into the phone.

She slowly climbs out from the bed, the sheets falling away from her naked body as she begins to search the floor for her clothes.

“Hold on, I’ll call you right back.” Tashi hangs up and looks over at her. "You heading back?" she asks, her tone showing no hint of remorse or guilt.

Her voice carries a subtle sigh as she responds, her tone somewhat dry. "Yeah," she says flatly, pulling her t-shirt back over her bare skin.

"Don't be late. I told Art we’d start training at 9:30." Tashi instructs, moving with purpose as she begins to get dressed.

She blinks, accepting her fate—the reality of the situation. She doesn't regret their night together, but she wishes it had ended differently. Ultimately she feels like she fucked up, big time. 

She begins to spiral towards the second week. 

She offers Art a heartfelt apology, acknowledging her mistake in not believing his side of the story. She knows it unfortunately doesn’t fix the situation or completely mend the rift between them—things can’t return to the way they were beforehand.

She tries to avoid both Art and Tashi, pouring her energy into her studies in a desperate attempt to salvage her academic performance—her grades are slowly declining along with her mental state.

She notices as Tashi takes on a more prominent role in training Art, and perhaps intentionally, Art seems to be going along with it as a form of retribution against her. She suspects that—out of spite or as a form of punishment—he is willingly going along with this change to increase her downfall.

As she contemplates the situation, it dawns on her that Art may be just as in love with Tashi as she is.

She can’t help but think about how everything went downhill so quickly. She feels trapped at Stanford, surrounded by people she isn't sure she can trust, and compelled to participate in a sport she never even wanted to pursue in the first place.

"Seriously?" Tashi's gaze burns into her as she misses yet again, her voice filled with annoyance and disappointment.

Art stands on one side of the court, observing the situation at Tashi’s side, while she stands on the opposite side, racket in hand, her hair pinned up and her body sweaty.

"Your game is fucking horrible," Tashi states bluntly. With each of Tashi’s digs, she feels her frustration mounting, bordering on the edge of a breakdown.

She takes a breath and returns to her position. Art serves and the emotional dam within her begins to crack as she misses the return once again, slamming her racket to the ground with a loud clatter. "Fuck!" she curses loudly, her voice filled with frustration and tears beginning to form in her eyes. Uncharacteristic of her usually composed demeanor, she paces around the court, her clenched fists trembling with pent-up emotions.

Tashi stands with her hands planted on her hips, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance as she taunts her. "C’mon, stop being a pussy," she says, her words cutting through the air.

She glances at Art, searching for some form of support or defense from his end, but instead—she's met with a guilt-laden expression as he looks away. Anger boils within her as she shoves her racket into her bag. "Fuck the both of you," she mumbles as she storms off the court.

Patrick

It doesn’t help that Patrick's return to Stanford coincides with that week, adding an extra layer of complexity to the already tense situation. He immediately notices the shifts in the dynamic.

He decides to address it—at the most inopportune moment—his timing, as usual, leaves much to be desired. It only adds an additional dose of stress as she prepares for her upcoming match against Tashi.

♬ I fucking hate you

But I love you

I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled

You're good at being perfect

We're good at being troubled

Yeah … ♬

As she stretches and warms up for the upcoming match, she glances up and notices Patrick making his way toward her, a serious expression on his face. She stops her stretching momentarily and looks at him. "Where's Tashi?"

Patrick's annoyance is evident, his words carrying a hint of irritation. "We got into an argument." His expression shows a mix of frustration and lingering tension. The air between them grows tense with unspoken words

"What?" She pauses her stretching as Patrick's words sink in, her attention fully on him now. 

His intimidating presence looms over her, his expression growing cold and accusatory. "Don't play dumb," he says in irritation. "Art told me about you." His gaze is locked onto hers as he practically towers over her.

She narrows her eyes defiantly, her voice growing in defensiveness and sarcasm as she counters, "What about it? Aren't you happy Art got some action?

"About you and Tashi." he clarifies, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

Did Tashi tell Art herself, or is this another consequence of her manipulation? The realization sinks in, and she knows that Art must have passed the information to Patrick—panic begins to crawl up her spine as her heart skips a beat.

Patrick's voice pierces through the air, cold and filled with spite. “You've got some fucking nerve, sneaking into my girlfriend’s bed when I'm not around," he spits out, his words laced with anger and disgust.

"Jealous because you weren't there to watch?" She challenges, her eyes locked on Patrick’s. She continues, her words laced with sarcasm and mocking. “You sure liked it that night at the hotel, huh?"

“That’s different.” Patrick maintains a serious demeanor as he responds, his voice firm.

"How so?" She presses—her eyes boring into him—awaiting his explanation.

Patrick's words hit hard. "Because it meant something this time. You’re in love with her, for fuck’s sake—everyone can tell." The truth of his statement renders the space silent for a brief moment.

Her frustration reaches a boiling point as she struggles to find a response. "Fuck you." She hisses at him, her voice laced with a mix of anger and helplessness.

Patrick drops the final bombshell, his voice cold and calculated. "You wanna know what else? She doesn’t love you back. She knows you’re the one person who can beat her, and she just needs to have that control over you."

She angrily grabs her belongings, the weight of Patrick's revelation hanging heavy in the air. "Fuck you and fuck Tashi," she spits out.

He follows after her, determined to keep the discussion going. "It's 'fuck Tashi' until she chooses you, right? and what about Art? Do you feel good playing games with his feelings?" His tone is harsh, his words aimed to provoke and guilt her.

"Playing games with his feelings?" She scoffs, her voice filled with frustration and annoyance. "You haven’t even been around, and you try to act like the judge here?" Her accusations hang heavy in the air, adding fuel to the fire of their argument. "Why did you and Tashi really get into an argument? Was it because of me—or because you can’t keep your dick in your pants when you're on tour?"

Patrick shakes his head in disbelief, attempting to turn the tables with his response. "That’s rich coming from you," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She tries to distance herself from the heated exchange, but Patrick continues to pursue her. Just as she’s about to push him away, a voice cuts through their altercation, calling out to Patrick. “Let it go, Patrick.” Art’s familiar voice causes both of them to stop in their tracks.

With a scoff, Patrick steps back, his expression frustrated and defeated. "Enjoy your match." He mutters as he turns and walks off, leaving her and Art alone together.

"How long have you known about me and Tashi?" She asks, her question hanging in the air.

Art's demeanor is surprisingly calm though she can tell everything has taken its toll on him just as much. His soft gaze meets hers, conveying a mixture of understanding and exhaustion. "Just forget about it. There's no point in dragging this out."

She buries her face in her hands, sighing deeply as the weight of their situation settles heavily on her shoulders.

As she steps onto the court for her long-awaited match against Tashi, a surge of anger and determination washes over her. The moment brings her back to the first time she faced Tashi, in the finals, and how she succumbed to Tashi's dominance under the pressure—not this time.

Tashi locks eyes with her from across the court, her gaze sharp and almost calculating. It's as if she knows what's going on in her mind, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Meanwhile, Art blends in amongst the spectators—silently watching from the sidelines—there's no sign of Patrick anywhere.

The heat of the match is palpable as she and Tashi face off against each other. They match each other's intense energy and aggressive rhythm, each swing sending powerful blows across the net. Harsh grunts fill the air as they play with fierce determination, neither giving any ground to the other.

The match abruptly comes to a halt as the sickening sound of bone cracking pierces the air. Tashi falls to the ground, clutching her knee in agony. Panic fills the air, and she reacts immediately, leaping over the net to be by her side. She drops her racket and kneels beside Tashi, her heart pounding in her chest as she tries to comfort her injured rival.

Art quickly sprints over from the bleachers, his expression filled with worry as he rushes to be next to her and Tashi. Their eyes meet, mirroring each other's fear. Tashi lies on the ground beneath them, her knee twisted in a horrifying position as she cries out in pain. It's a gruesome sight, difficult for either of them to look at.

#Spotify #challengers #challengers 2024 #patrick zweig #tashi donaldson #tashi duncan #challengers movie #art donaldson #challengers fic #challengers film #challengers fanfic #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #challengers smut #tashi duncan x reader #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson x tashi duncan #tashi duncan x you #tashi duncan x oc #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig x art donaldson #patrick zweig x oc

[firestorm09890]

there's a part of canto vi I've been thinking about since it came out, and it doesn't actually have anything to do with Heathcliff.

this

She is bitter as fuck and as time goes on she's getting worse at keeping it down. Sinclair's the one who started it, by talking about how sad it is that they'd never get to see color, and Rodya starts to get a little irritated over it (yeah, sure, pity the Backstreets folk and their poor miserable little lives, privileged nest boy), but she's obviously trying not to straight up call Sinclair a privileged nest boy because she doesn't want to. But then Yi Sang and Ishmael join in on talking about how sad this place is with no color and she just can't keep her opinion down.

But that makes the atmosphere tense, and she hates a tense atmosphere, so she changes the subject and her tone, not giving a damn about how obvious it is. also, haha, ice and cold references.

And actually, this doesn't really have much evidence to support it, but I wonder if she holds a higher level of resentment for Sinclair in particular.

Canto II had some discussion about how Rodya wishes she was special (and while I think what Sonya said about her killing the tax collector just to feel special is absolute bullshit, I do also think there is some truth to her wanting to feel special), and introduced us to the concept of The Sign in a way that was vague and more like foreshadowing than actually introducing it. Then Canto III was all about The Sign, and how special Sinclair is, and since then we've had people talking about signs and stars and a new birth of the world and it's all stuff Rodya doesn't get to be part of.

I don't think she wants to hold resentment for Sinclair, and she especially never wants him to know, but going back after all this time and rereading this one interaction with him in Canto II felt pretty jarring.

the more important part of this is the way it feels like she's making a joke at Heathcliff's expense, for being poor, like even though she's also from the Backstreets she feels she's "above" it.

She absolutely does not feel this way.

On my way to find the first passage, I reread some other interesting stuff:

Once again, there's the harsh juxtaposition between casual, fun-loving Rodya, and tired, poor man's advocate Rodya. Almost everyone on the team speaks through the lens of a Nest dweller (I have to wonder if learning that Heathcliff was apparently raised in a mansion made her even more bitter), and the way she's so short with her mention of the Sweepers makes me think she's thinking about how painfully obvious it would have been to any other Backstreets dweller. And then, right after, dropping back into her casual voice, and Sinclair revealing that Rodya used the fucked up Backstreets creature to tease him...

Other obvious moments of Rodya being bitter as hell about rich people include this part of S.E.A.

and this part of her observation logs on Spiral of Contempt (actually, nearly everything in that log that isn't about the physical abnormality has to do with how much she hates how rich people look down upon the poor)

Hong Lu's canto comes after Don's, and then after his is Ryōshū's, who, based on her source material, probably served one of the most awful, contemptuous rich people the sinners have access to, and I really hope at some point here Rodya gets to snap in a big way

...hey so I wrote this entire post at 1 in the morning and then saved it to drafts because I didn't want to post something at 1 in the morning. the Timekilling Time trailer came out about two hours later, featuring both Rodya... and the long-awaited return of the Yurodiviye. so now it's past 3 in the morning for me but I'm posting it now anyway because ohohoho seeing the Yurodiviye again has given me SO much energy

I have a feeling all this is going to be very relevant extremely soon

#limbus company #project moon #rodion #rodion lcb #lcb rodion #she's not even in my top 3 favorite sinners but she's so interesting to me #similar to lexaeus kingdomhearts except unlike him I know project moon are actually cooking something with rodya #rest in peace background character king #me post

[stxrvel]

the disaster (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!” 

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?” 

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!” 

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy. 

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand. 

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly. 

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier. 

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news. 

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,” your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted. 

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.” 

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.” 

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business. 

 “Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look. 

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!” 

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.” 

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.” 

 “Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

 “Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair. 

 “y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.” 

 “Ow, my poor baby.” 

 “I told you not to say that to anyone!” 

 “I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!” 

 “This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!” 

 “Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.” 

 “You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!” 

 “It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!” 

 God. It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run. 

 “Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?” 

 “Maybe.” 

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions. 

 “Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?” 

 The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare. 

 Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

 You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return. 

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart. 

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew. 

“How did all this happen?” 

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?” 

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity. 

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.” 

 “It's…complicated.” 

 “I don't think so. Tell me.” 

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much. 

 “It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.” 

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.” 

 Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile. 

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?” 

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva. 

“Oh?” 

Play fucking dumb. 

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.” 

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed. 

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung. 

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.” 

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day. 

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.” 

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar. 

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.” 

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…” 

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.” 

“What does that have to do…?”  

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.” 

“…” 

At what fucking moment? 

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?” 

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.” 

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends. 

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town. 

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet. 

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you. 

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present. 

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.” 

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.” 

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous. 

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?” 

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.” 

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!” 

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you. 

“Don't tell my mom I said that.” 

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left. 

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait. 

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste. 

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably. 

-

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

#bts x reader #bts fluff #bts #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts scenarios #bts jimin #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jimin angst #seokjin x reader #seokjin angst #namjoon angst #namjoon x reader #hobi x reader #hobi angst #hoseok x reader #hoseok angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #series: i can fix them

[taizi]

okay just because we were talking about this - how do you think an asl reunion at alabasta would look like?

i hope its ok that i took this as an excuse to write an au no one asked for :')

read on ao3

x

A lot of the problems in Ace’s young life—most of them, if he was being honest—could be attributed to the shitty choices that adults around him made. 

When Bluejam grabbed Luffy by the scruff, the business end of a pistol jammed painfully into the nape of his neck, he was talking a bunch of shit about how Sabo’s dad ripped him off. He was paid to kill Ace and Luffy but he’d been short-changed, and for a man who seemed to think he was entitled to a certain lot in life, it rankled. 

“But that noble brat doesn’t make a bad ransom,” the man said, shaking a weepy Luffy in one meaty hand to shut him up, like Ace’s baby brother was nothing but a piece of dirty laundry. “If his family won’t buy him back, I’m sure someone will.”

Ace’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Whatever time Ace didn’t spend in the jungle he spent in the gutters and outskirts of the city, where every unwanted, street-sharpened child knew the risk a certain kind of stranger brought with them. 

If Sabo ended up with a slaver, Ace would never get his brother back. Pieces of him, maybe. But not the same golden boy he was right now. Not the brave, proud, secretly soft-hearted person Ace loved so much. He’d come back different if he came back at all. 

He had to compartmentalize. He couldn’t act rashly until he had Luffy back. His mind raced frantically, but he made sure it didn’t show on his face. He snatched Luffy up when Bluejam finally let him go and made his own body a wall between his brother and the men who had no compunctions about hurting him to prove a point. 

They were left to spread gasoline throughout the terminal, while the pirates made their way back down to the beach. Not one of them lingered to make sure Ace and Luffy did as they were told, and Ace should have wondered about that. Should have wondered why they were making themselves scarce, why the city gates were barred, what all those fuel canisters are for, but his thoughts were too full of other things.

That was why, the second the coast was clear, he tossed his gasoline drum aside and seized Luffy by the arms. He stooped to look right into his eyes, trying to ignore the way his chest panged at how wide and red they were. 

“I have to go get Sabo,” he said firmly. “You have to stay here.”

“Let me come!” Luffy cried immediately, predictably. “Don’t leave me behind!”

“It’ll be faster if you wait,” Ace snapped, because he didn’t want to say that Luffy was going nowhere near any ship bound for the slave market, because then he would have to explain why. Even without the Fruit that made him a special novelty in the Blues, Luffy would be snatched up by evil hands in a heartbeat. “You’re too little, you’ll just slow me down,” he said instead. 

It wasn’t nice, and when Ace had time later, he would feel bad about the way Luffy’s lip trembled. But for now, it was important that he got his point across. Every second he lingered was another inch ahead Bluejam’s crew got. Ace’s world would literally end if their ship left port without him. 

So he gave Luffy’s shoulders a push that propelled him back a step. Then he pointed in the direction of the treeline. He made his face mean and forbidding. 

“I mean it, Luffy,” he said. “Go wait for me at home.”

Luffy finally tucked his chin in a miserable little nod. Ace gentled despite himself and reached out because there were two people he would always reach out for and one of them was right in front of him.

He flicked the brim of Luffy’s hat up enough that it fell off his head, and then ruffled his hair. A gesture so familiar and well-practiced it was like muscle memory to him now. Luffy didn’t smile, but it kept the tears at bay for a bit longer, and Ace left him with another firm point back at the jungle. 

Ace was a child, doing his best to keep his tiny family together. He had a half-formed plan that he would sneak about Bluejam’s ship and find Sabo wherever he was and they would fight their way out and escape together and reunite with Luffy in time for a midnight dinner. He was a pragmatic youth, and was made wiser by the world than any ten-year-old should have been, but he was still only ten years old. He couldn’t have guessed what was going to happen. 

He would piece it together later—that Bluejam had been commissioned by the kingdom to make sure the Gray Terminal burned down, a noble title he planned to come back to collect once he had auctioned off Outlook’s eldest son to the highest bidder—that Ace had chased after one brother and left the other alone in a place that was about to go up in flames. 

When he climbed aboard the Blood Batako, he didn’t realize it would be the last time he saw Dawn Island for almost half a year. 

He didn’t realize that Luffy would wait for him right there where Ace left him, even as the fire spread into walls of flames much taller than a scrawny seven year old—frightened and crying, little hands bunched in the front of his own shirt as he choked for each breath in the thick, acrid smoke. That Dadan would find him there and haul him away kicking weakly but not screaming, because there wasn’t enough oxygen left in his body to scream. That the asphyxiation, not the fire, is what nearly killed Luffy that night. That he would spend the next week in Foosha Village tended to by their only doctor and wake up with some of his memory intact, but not all. That he would recognize Makino, but wouldn’t know Dadan. 

Ace had no way of knowing, when he and Sabo finally made their way home, well-traveled at the tender young age of freshly eleven, and relieved to see journey’s end for the time being, and looking forward to reuniting with a certain crybaby who had probably been miserable cooped up in Dadan’s country or at Party’s Bar without them, that Luffy will have been gone for months by then. 

“A cruise ship docked further up the island,” Makino says fretfully, “and a little boy who worked in the kitchens came down here to play because he said he didn’t like the way the kingdom smelled. He and Luffy were fast friends. I had no idea Luffy was planning to leave with him until I found the note he left in his room, and by then they were long gone.” 

It’s a good thing Sabo is there, because Ace’s head is just a roar of white noise. Sabo is the one who chokes out, “But—what—did—did you call Gramps? What did he say? Is he going to find him?”

“I don’t have his direct line. I’ve left a dozen messages with his office, but you know how he is,” Makino says, forgetting that they don’t, actually. “He hardly remembers that he has an office. And the number Dadan has for him is no good.”

“Why would Luffy wander off like that?” Sabo says, progressively getting louder. “Why wasn’t someone watching him?”

“He’s just been so restless since the fire,” Makino replies. “There wasn’t anything keeping him here anymore, and it seemed like he just needed one good excuse to leave.”

Sabo looks as gutted by that as Ace probably feels, hurt and confusion racing their way across his face. And Ace finally makes his contribution, in the form of a choked, “What do you mean?” which is when Makino realizes there’s something they still don’t know. 

She sits them both down at a table and holds one of each of their hands in hers, and gently explains that while they were gone, the world as they knew it had changed forever, and the happy little boy who always ran to catch up to them wasn’t running after them anymore. 

———

Ace still forms the Spades, and Sabo still falls in with the Revolutionary Army, and the only reason they don’t sail together the way they promised when they were young is because the ocean is awfully big. They have a lot of square footage to cover, and splitting up is the only way they could even hope to cover it all. 

It doesn’t occur to either of them to give up at any point. As Sabo climbs ranks, as Ace gathers a crew, both their bounties increasing every day, they continue to search faithfully. Either they’ll find him one day, or they’ll simply spend the rest of their lives looking. 

Masked Deuce says, “What about the cruise ship he left on? Did you track it down?” 

“Boarded by pirates that same year,” Ace replies. “According to the official report, it sank in a storm.”

The loaded silence says everything Masked Deuce will not say. Ace doesn’t care what someone who has never met Luffy thinks about his odds of survival at sea. If Deuce knew Luffy, he would understand. Since he doesn’t, Ace’s first mate can believe his captain is delusional all he likes as long as it doesn’t keep him from doing his job. 

Deuce turns out to be a better friend than Ace deserves. One day when Ace leaves his crew to party with some locals and sets off into town to distribute flyers and put his ear to the ground, he hears someone rumble something under their breath about a hopeless cause. He doesn’t even have time to turn around before Deuce has seemingly teleported across the bar and knocked the dissenter out cold. 

“Anyone who shares his opinion is free to get their shit and leave,” he says calmly. 

The only voices that rise up are ones who sound very offended that Deuce would lump them in with that guy, and Ace refuses to look as touched as he feels. 

When he hears word of Red-Hair Shanks in nearby waters, he tracks the man down to a wintery island and leads his crew up a small mountain to meet him. In part, he wants to thank this man who saved his little brother all those years ago. But also…

“I heard about the fire,” Shanks said grimly. “And Makino kept me updated about little Anchor until he disappeared. I’ve got eyes out looking, too, Ace. The world is big, but not so big that we’ll never find him.”

It’s a relief to know that Luffy is so loved, that more than just his brothers care if he’s ever found. But in true Luffy fashion, he explodes onto the scene when he’s good and ready. 

Ace is woken up by Deuce kicking the door of the captain’s quarters off its hinges and shoving a crinkled Wanted poster into Ace’s bleary face so that a toothy, stretching smile is the first thing he sees. 

He accidentally sets half the room on fire, a slip-up the likes of which hasn’t happened since the first week after he ate his Fruit, and there’s a lot of screaming, and someone shoves a baby Den-Den at him so he can call Sabo. From the way his nakama were carrying on, you would think it was their long-lost brother in the paper.

“I was about to call,” Sabo says breathlessly in lieu of a hello after only barely half a ring. “You saw it?”

“I saw,” Ace replies. The newspaper is rattling noisily in his hands but he can’t get them to stop shaking. “He took down Arlong Park. There are all these witness statements from the villagers. They’re saying he did it all for his friend.”

“If anyone even thinks about coming for his bounty, I’m killing everyone on the Grand Line and then myself,” Sabo says. It takes knowing him as well as Ace knows him to be able to tell over the phone that he’s crying buckets. 

“Get in line,” Ace says. If anyone so much as looks at Luffy wrong he’s burning this goddamn planet down. He can’t tear his eyes away from the poster for more than a few seconds at a time. At the urchin grin, the pencil-mark curve of a scar, this bright young man he’s never met who is so, so familiar. 

“They’re calling him Straw Hat Luffy,” Deuce says. He’s a pillar of serenity in a sea of absolute chaos, leaning on Ace’s shoulder to read with him. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now I’ll finally get to meet him.”

Which turns out to be easier said than done, because Luffy and his merry band of lunatics won’t seem to stay in one fucking spot for longer than an hour. It takes weeks to finally track that cute little caravel down to a summer island about halfway through the Grand Line, and by that time Sabo has taken a leave of absence from the Army to join him. They’re close now. They’re so close. 

Wait for me, Ace would beg him if he could, wondering if this was how Luffy felt all those times his big brothers ran ahead and left him behind. 

———

Ace never knew how heavy a heart could be when he was a child, a half-feral, angry, touch-starved thing. But now his heart is full—now it bursts at the seams, spills through his ribcage, until there’s no part of him that isn’t touched by it—and it’s the heaviest thing he’s ever carried. 

A precious burden. He’s twice the man he would have been without it. He will never, not one time in his life ever, entertain the idea of putting it down. 

But gods, Ace thinks, it would be easier, so much easier, to rip the stupid thing out of his chest and walk around a hollow shell of someone once-loved than it would be to stand here for one more minute and look down at his baby brother looking up at him like he’s a total stranger. 

“Who’s this guy?” a blond man behind Luffy mutters. With the touseled hair hanging in an artful curtain over half his face and the cigarette between his teeth and the well-cut linen suit that makes it very clear he never skips leg day, blondie gives off an air of Do Not Fuck With Me just by breathing in a way that reminds Ace of Sabo at that age. 

The swordsman beside him, called Roronoa Zoro on his bounty poster, is scowling outright, gray eyes sharp, ready at any moment to leap over Luffy like a faithful hound and dig into Ace with his teeth the second he presents as danger. 

It makes Ace feel kind of nostalgic, like he’s looking at an old photo of himself. 

He tries to focus on the nostalgic feeling, because all the rest of his brain is drowning in guilt and grief. 

Somehow, he wasn’t prepared for this moment. Years of searching, nearly half his life, and he’s finally standing in front of the person whose absence tore a hole clean out of his whole future, and he has no idea what to say. 

You look well, springs to mind, because Luffy does. His hair and skin and eyes are all different shades of brown that gleam with good health under the desert sun. He’s still skinny, but not in the waifish, underfed way of all the Gray Terminal kids. He looks like he’s been eating well. It settles something in Ace’s heart in the one tiny corner of it that isn’t breaking. 

I should have been there, is the next-most immediate thought, and it almost takes Ace’s knees out from under him. He should have been there to make sure Luffy ate well. He should have been there to save him from the fire, to help him recover from the smoke sickness, to hold him when he cried in his sleep and to take his hand when he wandered aimlessly around the village with no one to play with and nothing to look forward to. 

I’m sorry I left you, is what it boils down to, what Ace has held close and carved into his heart over the years, hating himself, hating the child he was who thought he knew better, who thought he could conquer everything without losing anything. I never should have left you. 

But Luffy doesn’t know him from any other person in this busy marketplace, his head tilting to one side like a curious little bird’s, and Ace can’t think of anything to say to him that he’ll understand. 

He needs Sabo. He’s about to become a walking fire hazard, and he’s about to mess this whole thing up, this reunion that was almost a decade in the making. Luffy’s two friends are eyeing him with mounting suspicion the longer he stands there and stares at their captain, every line of their body still the way a predator’s body stills in preparation for a pounce. Luffy, for his part, is still engaged, but only barely. His interest is slipping away—there are too many sights and smells and things bustling all around for him to want to stand still for a gawking stranger that doesn’t even have anything exciting to say.

His little brother. Crybaby Luffy. The boy who crawled under Ace’s blanket when their treehouse quaked in a storm, who held Sabo’s hand when they stayed out too late and walked home through the jungle in the dark. He’s a pirate now, a Wanted person, with a crew and a ship all his own, and he got this far without them. The last time Ace saw him was that last night in the Gray Terminal, when Ace was being mean on purpose to make sure Luffy stayed away from certain danger. 

It occurs to Ace, for the very first time, that Luffy doesn't need him anymore. That tiny seven year old grew up. 

“I saw you in the paper,” he finally says, making a concentrated effort to sound like a human being. “You’re pretty cool.”

Luffy brightens immediately. “Yeah? Are you a pirate, too?”

“I am. Made a promise to my brothers when I was a kid that we’d sail the seas together one day.”

“Wow!” Luffy says, suitably impressed. “We made a promise like that, too.” He loops both his arms through one of Blondie’s and one of Roronoa’s. “We decided way back when we were little that we were gonna stick together and become the pirate king, and the greatest swordsman, and the man who discovers All Blue!”

So one of his two guard dogs must be the little kitchen boy from The Orbit who spirited Luffy away from Foosha. The other must have come along not much later if they were all children together. Ace wants to hear the story so badly he has to clench his jaw to keep from asking. He wants to hear about everything. 

Instead, ignoring the way Roronoa’s hand closes around the hilt of one of his swords, Ace reaches out and flicks the brim of Luffy’s hat so that it slips backwards off his head. Luffy squawks, and tries to free his arms in time to catch it, and then freezes in place at the touch to his hair.

Ace ruffles it fondly, muscle memory that hasn’t corroded even after a decade, and says what he should have said the first time that sunshine child in a worn straw hat shared a wild, impossible wish; 

“I hope I’m there to see it when all those dreams of yours come true.”

If he had stayed a second longer, he would have seen the way Luffy mirrored Ace’s touch with his own fingers, frozen in place. 

Instead, Ace has officially reached his emotional threshold, and formally retreats to find his twin. They take turns being the stable one and Ace is calling dibs on being a basket case for the next month. Masked Deuce is just going to have to deal. 

Sabo got back to their meeting spot first, an outdoor table outside a tavern that hasn’t yet opened for the day, and already has their map rolled out and pinned down at the corners by various junk from their luggage. He’s marking something down and calls over a distracted hello, and Ace bleakly replies, “I found him.”

His tone is all wrong for the remarkably momentous occasion he’s announcing, so it’s not really Sabo’s fault that it doesn’t click right away. Sabo says, “Found who?” and Ace just looks at him with all his helplessness and weariness plain on his face, and Sabo drags an ink mark all across Sandy Island on the map as he whirls around and says, “You found him?” 

“It’s not going to be how we thought,” Ace says, trying to manage his brother’s expectations. They share everything, but Ace would keep this heartbreak to himself if he knew how. “It’s—I think we took too long.”

“What do you mean?” Sabo asks, hands clenching into fists and unclenching. The fountain pen is dripping ink, ruining the fine leather of his left glove. 

“He didn’t know me. I knew he wouldn’t, not really, but he—he didn’t recognize me at all,” Ace tries to explain. He feels stupid and childish and ungrateful, but really he just has no idea what to do. Luffy doesn’t know him and doesn’t need him and how is he supposed to fill a place in that kid’s life that doesn’t exist anymore? “We’ll have to—to start over from scratch, but how? How are we supposed to make someone like Luffy care about people like us? He’s sunshine personified, and deserves to have everything he wants and the best this shitty world has to offer, and we’re just—two selfish idiots who couldn’t even take care of one little kid between the two of us.” The awful truth, delivered quietly: “Luffy doesn’t need us anymore. I can’t see why he’d want us around now.”

Sabo is watching him like something carved from marble. Ace would never tell him, because it would hurt his feelings in a way nothing else ever could, but there are times when Sabo looks every bit the nobleman his biological family wanted him to be. The line of his jaw and the fall of his hair and his deep set eyes are regal, especially when he’s focused, when he’s working through a problem, when he’s the last sane voice in a room and he’s waiting for the morons wasting his time to run out of breath. 

And then his eyes flicker past Ace’s shoulder, and his expression transforms. The breath leaves him in a rush like it was punched out of him, his lips parting, blue eyes widening in a way that seems to shave whole years from his face. 

Something causes him, impossibly, incongruously, to smile. 

“Would you put money on that?” he asks. 

“What? Yes,” Ace says, thrown off by the inappropriate lightness of his tone. He feels himself start to bristle defensively. “Are you even paying attention?” 

“One of us has to,” Sabo says, only smiling wider, and Ace feels sparks falling off his fingers in sheer aggravation as he turns around to see what is so—

He has three seconds at most to take in the sight of Luffy hurtling up the hill at top speed. It’s been years and years, but three seconds is all he needs. His arms remember how to reach out and catch him. 

“I waited where you left me, but you never came back!” Luffy shouts. “You can’t be mad! I waited and waited, and then I went out to find you instead! I didn’t remember you but I had to find you! I still don’t—I still don’t know some things—but I know it’s your fault for taking too long!” 

Sabo lurches over and Luffy’s rubbery hug wraps around them both and Ace is too shell-shocked by the last minute to do anything but hug back. 

Luffy shoves his face in Ace’s shoulder, and there’s a hot, wet smear of tears there. It gives away that Straw Hat Luffy, the pirate captain worth thirty million berries, is maybe not as grown-up as Ace had initially feared. 

Sabo presses his face against the crown of Luffy’s head, too overcome to do anything but hold him. The regal young man from moments ago is long gone. The one standing here with them is that street-rat from Dawn who knew the best places to steal food from, who always made sure they never went hungry, who once shrugged off his fine winter coat at the market and traded it to a vendor for a pair of sturdy boots for Ace and thick woolen mittens for Luffy. He had shivered all the way home, where there was an extra coat in the treehouse he could use, until Luffy had the bright idea that they should all bundle into Ace’s oversized cloak together for warmth and whined until Ace agreed just to shut him up. That had been the most annoying hike up Mount Colubo in history. It’s a memory that Ace cherishes beyond reason. 

Ace whispers, “Of course I’m not mad, Lu.” It’s been ages since he was that hostile, hateful little thing who would take a bite out of anything that dared to show its soft underbelly to him. He presses as close as he can, cheek to cheek with this piece of his family that’s gone missing for far too long, and adds, “You’ve never been obedient a day in your life. If I expected anything different, that’s on me.”

Luffy laughs, and it’s snotty and choked and pure music to Ace’s ears. The kid worms closer, makes himself smaller, and lets himself be held. 

He doesn’t need his brothers. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are solid and strong. He’s already made a name for himself, and even now those two friends of his are lingering watchfully further down the road—far enough away to give the respectful illusion of privacy, near enough to make Ace and Sabo’s day a living hell if they try anything fishy. It’s probably been a long time since he’s needed someone to hold his hand or carry him home. 

But if, by some insane, undeserved miracle, Luffy still wants them…

It’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s more than Ace has had in ten years. 

What one piece? he thinks, arms full and aching. I’ve got it all right here. 

#one piece #op #opfic #asl bros #portgas d ace #revolutionary sabo #monkey d luffy #my writing #prompt #wizardmafianinjapirate

[ihni]

What if ...

... Hopper and Neil Hargrove had been in the army together?

I don't know anything about the army and all I know is that the war at least Hopper went to was the one in Vietnam, but let's play with the thought that the two of them were there together. And did NOT get along, like at ALL; Hopper thought Neil was deceitful and untrustworthy, too proud and manipulative. Overestimating his own importance and competence, and too happy to cause pain in others.

They both survived the war and went back to their own lives, only like 20 years later or so, the Hargroves show up in Hawkins and Hopper meets Neil Hargrove again.

Despite telling himself that they're older now; that they're adults who have had time to grow into themselves, Hopper STILL doesn't like Neil. Like, his skin is crawling when he sees the man, even after all these years. But it's not like he has a good reason to dislike him now; outwardly, Neil Hargrove seems to be just a normal family man, setting down in Hawkins with his family. No one else has had any complaints. And either way, Hopper can't explain it, it's just a feeling. He just doesn't LIKE him.

And the thing is, that the guy has KIDS now, too. Or - as Hopper learns, as soon as he gets the documents he pulled from California - a son, at least (the girl being Neil Hargrove's new wife's kid). And by the file that Hopper has to pull some strings to get his hands on, the kid is shaping up to be a bad seed, just like his dad. Reports on fights, trespassing, shoplifting, underage drinking, reckless driving.

Hopper doesn't want that kind of bad influence in his town. So what, if he wants to nip it in the bud? So what, if he pulls the kid over as soon as he gets the chance, just to get a feel of him? The kid is tense, obviously hiding something, and speaking so respectfully that it borders on sarcasm - strike that, it's definitely sarcasm.

So what, if Hopper feels the need to put the fear of god into the kid? He's here, and his father is not - Hopper can't touch Neil, who never officially puts a toe out of line, but a teenager with a bad attitude? It's basically Hopper's JOB to do something about that.

So he goes hard on the kid. Tells himself it's for the kid's own good; keeping him on the straight and narrow and teach him what's right and what's wrong. And hey, if he gets to bring the kid home to the Hargrove doorstep sometimes and look Neil Hargrove in the eye while he lets him know what his son has done now (Not so perfect now, are you Hargrove?), well, then that's just a bonus. Perks of being the Chief of Police.

It becomes personal, in the way that he will take any chance to gte on the kid's case for SOMETHING. But also the opposite of personal, because the kid - Billy - isn't really a person in his own right in Hopper's eyes. He's just an angry kid. Neil Junior. A chip of the Hargrove block. He is simply a means to an end. The best way to get to Neil in a way that doesn't seem unreasonable, or petty, in the eyes of everyone else.

And of course, I want the Moment of Realization. I don't know where or when; maybe Hopper stumbles over Billy's car parked out at the Quarry, or maybe he nabs him after a party, or maybe he sees him out walking by the side of the road late one night and pulls up next to him.

And maybe that's the time when Billy has had ENOUGH. When he either gets angry and starts yelling, 'What do you have against me, man?? What have I ever done to you?", or maybe he tries to run because he can't do this right now, or maybe it's a Bad Night and he's tired and terrified and he breaks down crying (but tries to hide it).

Maybe it's all three.

And, I don't know, but maybe Billy's hurt and wincing and Hopper notices, and maybe when Billy refuses Hopper (not very gently) demands to see, and -

Maybe there are bruises. Maybe there's a burn scar somewhere on Billy where he couldn't have put it himself (like between his shoulder blades), the one you get from a red-hot lighter. A mark that Hopper remembers from his time in the the army, from when a buddy of his made a bet with Neil and lost, and Neil let his lighter burn for a long time and then pressed the hot metal against the guy's back. That too scarred, and it looked just like this.

And maybe that's when Hopper lets his memories boil over, and his voice is rough when he asks what happened, who did that, and maybe that's when Billy mutters something about Hopper and Neil being army buddies and Hopper doesn't have to worry, Billy isn't a snitch, he can keep his mouth shut.

And that's when things slot into place in Hopper's brain, and he realizes that the kid is just a KID, that the anger comes from hopelessness, that the attitude is a mask to hide his fear. Because even now, he's cowering in Hopper's grip - but still keeping eye contact, back straight, hands to the side. Learned behaviour.

And that's when Hopper realizes he has Fucked Up.

#jim hopper #billy hargrove #stranger things #neil hargrove #billy and hopper #no i will not write this‚ i have too many other things to write already #yes i would be fucking overjoyed if someone else would write it or take it and run with it in any way shape or form #i just adore the ... wrongfully judged trope #you know what I mean? #please someone if you know of any kind of content like this send me a link I will DEVOUR

[estellan0vella]

Art of the Not-So-Graceful Swoon and Serious Conversations ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Megumi, Yuji, Yuta, Toge & Nobara (Requested as SMAU but I did it as a written piece because I didn't think an SMAU was the best way to approach this topic)

CW: DISORDERED EATING MENTIONED

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, feeling dizzy. The room spins slightly, and you grab onto the counter for support. Satoru Gojo, your boyfriend, is sitting at the table, casually munching on some snacks. He looks up and his expression shifts from playful to concerned in an instant.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, standing up quickly.

You try to nod, but the movement makes your vision blur. You haven't eaten properly in days. The constant struggle with food has taken its toll, and your body is finally giving in. Before you can respond, your knees buckle, and you collapse.

"Hey! Y/N!" Satoru's voice is filled with panic as he rushes to your side.

The world goes dark for a moment. When you come to, you're lying on the couch, a cool cloth on your forehead. Satoru is kneeling beside you, his eyes wide with worry. He brushes a stray hair out of your face, his touch gentle.

"You scared me," he says softly. "What happened?"

You take a deep breath, feeling weak and embarrassed. "I... I haven't been eating much," you admit, avoiding his gaze.

Satoru's expression shifts from concern to something deeper, a mix of hurt and understanding. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, his voice gentle but firm. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You feel a lump in your throat. "I didn't want to bother you," you mumble. "I thought I could handle it on my own."

He sighs, sitting down next to you. "You don't have to handle everything alone. I'm here for you. Always."

Tears well up in your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away. "It's just... it's hard," you confess. "I struggle with food. Sometimes, it's like my mind just won't let me eat, no matter how much I want to."

Satoru takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to fight this battle by yourself," he says softly. "We can figure this out together. But you need to eat, okay? Your health is important to me. You are important to me."

His words hit you hard, and you finally let the tears fall. Satoru pulls you into a gentle hug, holding you as you cry. His presence is comforting, his embrace warm and safe. After a few moments, you pull back, feeling a bit lighter.

"I don't want to be a burden," you whisper.

"You're not a burden," Satoru insists, his eyes meeting yours. "You're my partner. We support each other. That's what a relationship is about."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and fear. "I'll try," you promise. "But it's going to be hard."

"I know," he says. "But we'll take it one step at a time. Together."

He stands up and heads to the kitchen. You watch as he prepares a simple meal, bringing it over to you. "Here," he says, offering you a small plate. "Just a little bit to start. We can work up from here."

You take the plate, your hands shaking slightly. "Thank you," you say, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

Satoru smiles, sitting back down beside you. "We'll get through this," he says confidently. "And I'll be right here with you, every step of the way."

You nod, taking a small bite. It's a small victory, but with Satoru by your side, it feels like the beginning of something better. The road ahead is uncertain, but you're not alone. And for now, that's enough.

The room spins around you, the edges of your vision blurring into a hazy fog. You've been pushing yourself too hard, neglecting meals, telling yourself you’ll eat later. But later never comes, and now the toll it's taken on your body is undeniable. Suguru's voice, usually a comforting hum in the background, seems distant and distorted. You can barely make out the words, your mind struggling to keep up.

"Suguru, I…" Your voice trails off, weak and unsteady. You reach out, trying to grasp something, anything to steady yourself, but your fingers find only empty air. The last thing you see before everything goes dark is Suguru's worried face, his eyes widening in alarm as he realizes what's happening.

When you come to, you're lying on the couch, a cool cloth pressed to your forehead. Suguru is kneeling beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair. His expression is a mix of concern and relief as he notices your eyes flutter open.

"You're awake," he says softly, his voice steady but edged with worry. "How are you feeling?"

You try to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forces you to lie back down. "I'm okay," you manage to say, though even you can hear the strain in your voice. "Just… dizzy."

Suguru's brow furrows. "You fainted. Do you know why?" His tone is gentle, but you can sense the underlying worry. He's always been attentive, always noticed when something was off. And you know you can’t hide the truth from him.

"I… I haven't been eating much," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just been hard lately."

He nods, his expression softening with understanding. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks quietly. There's no accusation in his voice, only concern. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

"I didn't want to worry you," you confess, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I thought I could handle it on my own."

Suguru sighs, his hand never stopping its gentle movements through your hair. "You don't have to handle everything by yourself," he says. "I'm here for you, always. Please, don't shut me out."

The sincerity in his words breaks down the last of your defenses, and the tears you've been holding back spill over. "I'm sorry," you whisper, feeling the weight of your struggles crashing down on you. "I just… I didn't know how to talk about it."

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "It's okay," he murmurs. "We'll get through this together. But you need to take care of yourself. Skipping meals isn't the answer."

You nod, wiping at your eyes. "I know. I'll try. It's just… hard."

"I know it is," he says, his voice filled with compassion. "But we'll take it one step at a time. We'll make a plan, and I'll help you stick to it. You're not alone in this."

His words are a balm to your aching heart. For the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope. With Suguru by your side, maybe you can find a way through this. You take a deep breath, letting the warmth of his presence fill you with a renewed sense of determination.

"Thank you," you say, your voice steadier now. "For being here. For understanding."

Suguru smiles, a soft, reassuring smile that makes you feel like everything might just be okay. "Always," he promises. "We'll face this together."

And with those words, you know that you're not alone. With Suguru's support, you're ready to confront your struggles, one step at a time.

You’re standing in the kitchen with Kento Nanami, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the aroma of the breakfast he’s prepared. The sight of the food—crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, perfectly toasted bread—makes your stomach churn. It’s been days since you’ve had a proper meal, but the anxiety that knots your insides at the thought of eating is stronger than your hunger.

“Are you alright?” Nanami’s voice is calm, but there’s a hint of concern in his eyes as he sets a plate in front of you. You nod, forcing a smile. The last thing you want is to worry him.

“I’m fine,” you lie, your voice barely above a whisper.

He watches you, his gaze steady and unwavering. You can feel the weight of his worry, but you’re determined not to let it show. You pick up your fork, your hand trembling slightly, and take a small bite. It feels like a rock in your stomach.

“You haven’t been eating much lately,” he says softly, sitting down across from you. “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head, the room starting to spin slightly. “I’m just not very hungry.”

Nanami’s eyes narrow, his expression unreadable. He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. “You need to take care of yourself,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“I know,” you murmur, but even as you speak, your vision blurs. You can feel yourself slipping, the edges of the world fading to black. The last thing you see is the alarm in Nanami’s eyes as he calls your name.

When you come to, you’re lying on the couch, Nanami kneeling beside you. His hand is cool against your forehead, his expression a mix of relief and worry.

“Thank goodness,” he breathes, helping you sit up slowly. “You fainted. When was the last time you ate?”

You look away, shame flooding through you. “I… I don’t remember,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

Nanami’s sigh is heavy with frustration and concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his tone softer now. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite your lip, trying to hold them back. “I… I’ve been struggling,” you confess. “With food. It’s hard to explain. I just… I can’t bring myself to eat sometimes. It’s like… this fear, this anxiety, it takes over and I can’t…”

Nanami pulls you into a gentle embrace, his arms strong and reassuring around you. “You don’t have to explain everything right now,” he murmurs. “But you need to know that I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

You nod against his chest, the tears spilling over now. It feels like a weight has been lifted, just admitting the truth. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m always going to worry about you,” he replies, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Because I care about you. We’ll get through this together, alright? But you have to let me help you.”

You take a deep breath, nodding again. “Okay,” you say softly. “I’ll try.”

Nanami smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That’s all I ask,” he says. “One step at a time.”

You lean into his embrace, feeling a glimmer of hope. It’s not going to be easy, but with Nanami by your side, you know you can face whatever comes next.

You wake up feeling a familiar tightness in your chest, the kind that has been gnawing at you for days now. It's the hunger, or rather, the lack of desire to eat. You drag yourself out of bed, your limbs feeling heavier than usual, and head towards the kitchen where Choso is already busying himself with breakfast.

He looks up and smiles when he sees you, his dark eyes warm with affection. "Morning," he says, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. "I made your favorite."

You force a smile and mumble a greeting, avoiding his gaze. The smell of food wafts through the air, and instead of making you hungry, it churns your stomach with anxiety. You know you should eat, but the thought of putting anything in your mouth makes you feel nauseous.

Choso sets a plate in front of you, pancakes stacked high, syrup glistening. "Eat up," he says cheerfully, sitting across from you with his own plate. You pick up your fork, but the sight of the food blurs as your vision starts to tunnel. Your head feels light, and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

"Are you okay?" Choso's voice sounds distant, concerned.

You nod, but it's a lie, and before you can stop it, everything goes black.

When you come to, you're on the floor with Choso's worried face hovering above you. "Hey, hey, stay with me," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "You fainted."

You blink, trying to make sense of what happened. The memory rushes back, and shame floods your system. You struggle to sit up, but Choso's hands on your shoulders keep you steady.

"Easy," he says. "Take it slow."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

"Don't apologize," he replies, helping you sit up and then moving to sit beside you on the floor. "But we need to talk about this."

You nod, swallowing hard. "I know."

Choso sighs, his hand reaching out to take yours. "You've been skipping meals, haven't you?"

You don't trust your voice, so you just nod again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, his tone gentle but with an edge of frustration. "I could have helped."

"I didn't want to bother you," you admit, looking down at your intertwined hands. "I thought I could handle it on my own."

"You don't have to handle everything alone," he says, squeezing your hand. "Especially not something like this. I love you, and that means I want to help you, even with the hard stuff."

You take a deep breath, the words you've been avoiding finally coming to the surface. "I’ve been struggling with food for a while now. Eating feels like a chore, and sometimes I just… can't."

Choso's eyes soften, and he shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Thank you for telling me," he says quietly. "But we need to make sure you're getting the nutrition you need. Fainting isn't something we can ignore."

"I know," you say, leaning into his embrace. "I want to get better. I just don't know how."

"We'll figure it out together," he promises. "Maybe we can see a nutritionist or a therapist, someone who specializes in this. But for now, let's start small. Can you try to eat something? Just a little?"

You nod, feeling a flicker of hope. "Okay. I'll try."

Choso smiles and helps you to your feet, leading you back to the table. The pancakes are still there, a little cold but still inviting. He cuts a small piece and hands you the fork. You take it, feeling a bit more steady with him by your side.

As you take your first bite, Choso watches you with a mix of concern and pride. "We'll take it one step at a time," he says. "I'm here with you, always."

You nod, chewing slowly, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, things will get better. With Choso by your side, you know you won't have to face this struggle alone.

The room spins as you clutch the edge of the counter, your vision blurring and darkening at the edges. Your head feels light, and your stomach clenches painfully, reminding you of the meals you’ve skipped over the past few days. Sukuna's voice is distant, an echo in the back of your mind, as you try to focus on his face, but your body betrays you. The last thing you see before everything goes black is his eyes widening in surprise.

When you come to, you’re on the couch, a cool cloth on your forehead and Sukuna’s face hovering above you, etched with uncharacteristic concern. His crimson eyes narrow as he sees you stir.

“You fainted,” he says flatly, though you detect a hint of worry beneath his usual gruffness. “What the hell happened?”

You try to sit up, but Sukuna’s large hand gently presses you back down. “Take it easy,” he commands. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

You close your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. You’ve been struggling with food, your relationship with it complicated and fraught with anxiety. But admitting this to Sukuna, of all people, feels impossible. You don’t want him to see you as weak.

“I… I haven’t been eating much,” you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. “It’s been hard.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you dare to open your eyes, expecting to see disappointment or anger. Instead, his expression is unreadable, a mix of frustration and something softer that you can’t quite name.

“Why?” His tone is demanding, but there’s a gentleness there too, hidden beneath the surface. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“It’s complicated,” you say, turning your face away. “I just… I can’t. Sometimes, it feels easier not to eat at all.”

Sukuna’s fingers tighten around yours, not painfully, but with a firmness that grounds you. “You need to eat,” he states, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Your body needs food. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

You know he’s right, but the fear and anxiety that grip you make it hard to accept his words. “It’s not that simple,” you protest weakly. “It’s a struggle every day. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Try me,” he says, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “I might surprise you.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s like… there’s this voice in my head, telling me I’m not good enough, that I don’t deserve to eat. And when I do eat, I feel guilty. It’s a vicious cycle.”

Sukuna’s eyes darken with a mix of anger and sadness. “Whoever put those thoughts in your head is an idiot,” he says bluntly. “You’re more than good enough. And you deserve to take care of yourself.”

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in an awkward but comforting embrace. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he murmurs. “I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.”

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and for once, you don’t try to hide it. Sukuna’s words, rough around the edges but sincere, start to chip away at the walls you’ve built around yourself. Maybe, just maybe, with him by your side, you can find a way to heal.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “For being here.”

“Always,” he replies, and you know he means it. In his own way, Sukuna is offering you a lifeline, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, your vision swimming slightly. The room around you feels oddly tilted, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze. Toji notices something is off immediately. His sharp eyes, always so perceptive, narrow with concern.

"Hey," he says softly, crossing the room in a few long strides. "You alright?"

You force a smile, nodding even though your head feels like it's filled with cotton. "Yeah, just... a bit dizzy, that's all."

He kneels in front of you, his large hands cupping your face gently. The warmth of his touch is reassuring, but it also makes you acutely aware of how cold and clammy your own skin feels. "When was the last time you ate?" His voice is firm, but there's a layer of worry that he can't quite hide.

You avoid his gaze, your eyes drifting to the floor. "I... I don't remember," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toji's frown deepens. He stands up abruptly, heading towards the kitchen. "Stay here," he orders, though there's no real harshness in his tone. You hear him rummaging through the cupboards, the clatter of dishes and the sound of running water.

You try to stand up, but the world spins violently and your knees buckle. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and you barely register the sensation of falling before everything goes black.

When you come to, you're lying on the couch, a damp cloth on your forehead and Toji sitting beside you, his expression a mix of anger and fear. "What the hell were you thinking?" he growls, though his hands are gentle as they brush a strand of hair from your face.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to what?" he interrupts, his voice rising. "Didn't mean to scare the hell out of me? Didn't mean to starve yourself until you passed out?" He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You need to eat, okay? You can't keep doing this."

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I know. It's just... hard."

Toji's expression softens. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I get that," he says quietly. "But you have to try. For me. For yourself."

He reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing a bowl of soup he must have prepared while you were unconscious. "Here," he says, handing it to you. "Start with this."

Your hands tremble slightly as you take the bowl. Toji watches you, his gaze intense but filled with a deep, unwavering concern. "You're not alone in this," he reminds you. "I'm here. We'll get through it together."

You take a tentative sip of the soup, the warmth spreading through your body. It's comforting, not just the food, but his presence, his support. You meet his eyes, seeing the determination there, and it gives you strength.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice breaking.

Toji shakes his head. "Don't thank me," he says firmly. "Just promise me you'll try. Promise me you'll let me help."

You nod again, this time with more conviction. "I promise."

He smiles, a rare, genuine smile that lights up his face. "Good," he says, wrapping an arm around you. "We'll take it one step at a time. Together."

You lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of hope. With Toji by your side, you know you can face this battle. One day, one meal at a time.

The room spins as you struggle to focus on Megumi's voice. He's talking about something—you're not quite sure what—his words blending into a distant hum. You nod, hoping it's the right response. Your stomach twists uncomfortably, not out of hunger but from the anxiety that has been gnawing at you for days. You haven't eaten much; the thought of food makes your throat tighten.

Megumi glances at you, his expression softening with concern. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," you manage to say, but the words feel heavy, forced.

The next moment, the world tilts, and you feel yourself falling. Megumi's eyes widen, and he lunges forward to catch you just as darkness overtakes your vision.

When you come to, you're lying on the couch, a cool cloth on your forehead. Megumi is sitting beside you, his brows furrowed in worry. His hand is warm against yours, grounding you in reality.

"Hey," he says softly, "take it easy."

You blink, trying to shake off the fog in your mind. "What happened?"

"You fainted," he replies, his tone gentle but firm. "I think you haven't been eating enough."

Your heart sinks. You've been careful, trying to hide your struggles, but it seems you weren't as successful as you'd hoped. You look away, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Megumi squeezes your hand, his grip reassuring. "You don't have to apologize. I'm just worried about you."

You take a deep breath, the weight of his concern pressing down on you. "It's just... hard sometimes. Eating, I mean. It feels like... like too much."

He nods slowly, his gaze never leaving your face. "I get that. Everyone has their battles. But you don't have to go through this alone."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I didn't want to burden you."

"You're not a burden," he says firmly. "I care about you. If something's wrong, I want to help."

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "It's been tough lately. I don't know why, but the thought of eating just makes me anxious."

Megumi's expression softens even more. "It's okay to feel like that. But we need to find a way to get through this together. Have you talked to anyone about it?"

You shake your head, a fresh wave of shame washing over you. "No. I was too scared."

"Then let's start now," he suggests. "We can look for a therapist, someone who can help. And in the meantime, I'll be here for you. We can figure out small steps to make it easier."

His words offer a glimmer of hope, a promise that you're not alone in this fight. You nod, feeling a bit more grounded, a bit more hopeful. "Okay. That sounds good."

Megumi smiles, a rare sight that warms your heart. "We'll take it one day at a time. And remember, you can always talk to me. No matter what."

You squeeze his hand back, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Megumi. Really."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We'll get through this. Together."

As you lie back, his hand still holding yours, you feel a sense of relief. It's not going to be easy, but with Megumi by your side, you're ready to face the challenges ahead.

You’re walking beside Yuji, your boyfriend, through the bustling streets of Tokyo. The sun is high, casting a warm glow over the city, but you feel cold and lightheaded. It's been days since you've had a proper meal, your struggle with food overshadowing even the most basic of needs. Yuji, ever cheerful and kind, chatters about his day, but his voice seems distant, like it's coming from underwater.

You try to focus on his words, on the excitement in his voice, but your vision blurs. You tell yourself you’re fine, that you just need to push through it. But your body disagrees. Suddenly, the ground seems to rise up to meet you, and darkness swallows you whole.

When you come to, you’re lying on a bench, Yuji’s concerned face hovering above yours. His usually bright eyes are clouded with worry. "Hey, hey! Are you okay?" His voice is frantic, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. You can see the panic etched in every line of his face, and it breaks your heart.

“I… I think so,” you manage to croak out, though you don’t feel okay at all. Your limbs are weak, and your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Yuji helps you sit up, his hand steady on your back.

“What happened? You just collapsed,” he says, his voice softer now but still edged with concern.

You hesitate, looking down at your hands. How do you explain this? The guilt, the shame, the constant battle with your own body? “I… I haven’t been eating much lately,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yuji’s eyes widen in shock. “Why? Why haven’t you been eating?” His tone is gentle, but you can hear the underlying worry.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “It’s… it’s hard to explain. I’ve been struggling with food for a while. Sometimes it just feels easier to not eat at all.”

Yuji is silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, he reaches out, taking your hand in his. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” he says softly. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you.”

His words are like a balm to your aching heart. You’ve been carrying this burden alone for so long, it almost feels strange to have someone else share it. “I didn’t want to worry you,” you confess, tears welling up in your eyes.

Yuji shakes his head, squeezing your hand gently. “You don’t have to protect me from this. I want to help you, but I need you to let me in. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

You nod, the tears spilling over. “Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you, Yuji.”

He smiles, that bright, reassuring smile that you love so much. “Let’s go get something to eat, then. Just a little, if that’s all you can manage. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

You nod again, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. With Yuji by your side, the battle doesn’t seem so daunting. Together, you can face this. Together, you can find a way through.

As you walk towards a nearby café, Yuji keeps a protective arm around you. It’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel safe, grounded. You know this is just the beginning, that there will be many more challenges ahead. But for the first time in a long while, you feel hopeful. With Yuji beside you, anything feels possible.

The day begins with a subtle sense of unease that you can't quite shake off. Yuta notices, of course—he always does. His concern is evident in the way he hovers around you, a gentle presence that never feels overbearing but always attentive. You've been struggling with food for a while now, and although you try to keep it hidden, Yuta's perceptive nature makes it impossible to completely disguise the toll it's taking on you.

By midday, the dizziness starts to creep in. You ignore it, pushing through the fog in your mind and the weakness in your limbs. Yuta suggests lunch, his voice hopeful and encouraging, but you shake your head, offering a weak smile. "I'm not really hungry," you lie, trying to convince both him and yourself. He doesn't push, respecting your boundaries, yet his eyes betray his worry.

Afternoon comes, and the world starts to blur at the edges. You're sitting on the couch, trying to focus on a book, but the words swim on the page. Yuta is nearby, engrossed in some task, but you can feel his occasional glances, each one a silent check-in. You stand up, intending to get a glass of water, but the room tilts violently. Your vision darkens, and before you can call out, your knees buckle.

The next thing you know, you're lying on the floor, Yuta's frantic voice calling your name. His hands are gentle but firm as he helps you sit up, his face pale with fear. "Hey, hey, look at me," he says, his voice steady despite the panic in his eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You blink, trying to clear the haze from your mind. "I... I don't know," you stammer, though you both know it's not entirely true. The truth is, you've been skipping meals, pushing yourself too hard, and now your body is paying the price.

Yuta's expression softens, a mix of relief and concern. He helps you to the couch, making sure you're comfortable before he speaks again. "You haven't been eating," he says quietly, not an accusation but a simple, painful truth. "I can tell. And now this... It's serious."

Tears prick at your eyes, shame and guilt welling up. "I'm sorry," you whisper, unable to meet his gaze. "I just... It's hard. I don't want to worry you, but—"

"But I am worried," Yuta interrupts gently. He takes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "I love you, and I hate seeing you hurt yourself like this. You don't have to go through this alone."

His words break through the wall you've built around yourself, and the tears start to fall. Yuta pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly as you sob into his shoulder. "It's okay," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "We'll figure this out together. We'll get through it."

You nod, the weight of his words a small comfort amidst the storm of your emotions. It's not going to be easy, and you know the road ahead is long and filled with challenges. But with Yuta by your side, his unwavering support and love, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, you can overcome this.

As you sit there, wrapped in his embrace, you feel a flicker of hope. It's fragile, like a candle in the wind, but it's there. And for now, that's enough.

You're walking down the busy street with Toge Inumaki, your boyfriend, as the sun begins to set. The air is filled with the sounds of chatter and the distant hum of traffic. Toge is by your side, his presence a comforting constant. His unique way of speaking in rice ball ingredients has always been something you've found endearing, a quirk that makes him special.

But today, something feels different. You haven't eaten properly in days, struggling with your relationship with food. The world around you starts to blur, and you feel a wave of dizziness wash over you. You try to steady yourself, but your vision goes black, and you collapse.

When you come to, you're lying on the pavement, Toge's worried face hovering above you. His usually calm eyes are filled with concern, and he's holding your hand tightly.

"Salmon," he says, his voice shaky.

You try to sit up, but he gently pushes you back down. "Tuna mayo," he continues, his words conveying a depth of worry.

"I'm okay," you manage to croak out, but the weakness in your voice betrays you. The truth is, you're not okay. You haven't been for a while now.

Toge helps you sit up slowly, his arm supporting your back. "Kelp," he says softly, pointing to a nearby bench. You nod, and he helps you over to it. You sit down, feeling the world still spinning slightly.

He sits next to you, his hand never leaving yours. The silence between you is heavy, filled with unspoken words. You know you need to explain, but you're not sure where to start.

"Toge, I... I haven't been eating," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. His grip on your hand tightens, and you see the pain in his eyes.

"Mustard leaf?" he asks, his tone a mix of confusion and concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "I've been struggling with food. It's been hard for me to eat. I didn't want to worry you."

He looks at you, his expression softening but still filled with worry. "Salmon," he says, a hint of frustration in his voice. He cups your face with his hand, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

"I know," you whisper, tears starting to well up in your eyes. "I'm sorry, Toge. I didn't mean for it to get this bad."

"Tuna," he says, shaking his head. He pulls you into a hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. You cling to him, feeling the weight of your struggles lifting just a bit.

After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Bonito flakes?" he asks, his tone gentle but firm.

You nod, understanding what he's asking. "I need help. I know that now. I can't do this alone."

He smiles, a small but genuine smile that reaches his eyes. "Kombu," he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's his way of telling you that he's here for you, that he'll support you through this.

You lean into him, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It's going to be a long journey, but with Toge by your side, you feel a glimmer of hope. You know that you're not alone, and that makes all the difference.

As you sit together on the bench, the world around you starts to feel a little less overwhelming. Toge's presence is a reminder that you have someone who cares deeply for you, someone who will help you find your way back to a healthier place. And for the first time in a long while, you believe that you can do it.

Extra Addition: Nobara Kugisaki

The world around you starts to blur as you sway on your feet, a wave of dizziness crashing over you. Your stomach has been a hollow pit for hours, gnawing at you with a persistent ache you’ve grown accustomed to ignoring. You’ve managed to keep your struggles with food hidden from Nobara, convincing yourself that you can handle it. But now, as you stand in the middle of her living room, the edges of your vision darken, and you know you’re about to faint.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nobara’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp with concern. You try to respond, but your knees buckle, and the floor rushes up to meet you.

The next thing you know, you’re lying on the couch, Nobara’s frantic face hovering above you. Her hands are trembling as she pats your cheeks, her eyes wide with panic.

“Wake up! Come on, open your eyes!” she demands, her voice shaking. “What the hell happened?”

You blink up at her, the room slowly coming back into focus. “I’m... I’m okay,” you croak, though your voice is weak and unconvincing.

“Okay? You call that okay? You just collapsed!” Nobara’s face is a mix of anger and worry, her usual confident demeanor replaced by raw fear. “You scared the hell out of me!”

You try to sit up, but Nobara gently pushes you back down. “No, stay there. You’re not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

There’s no escaping it now. You take a deep breath, your throat tight. “I haven’t been eating much lately,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been... struggling with food.”

Nobara’s eyes widen even more, if that’s possible. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice is high-pitched, almost shrill with worry. “I could have helped! We could have figured something out together!”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you mumble, feeling the weight of your secret lifting but replaced by a different kind of heaviness — guilt.

“Bother me? Are you kidding?” Nobara’s hands are still trembling as she cups your face, her eyes searching yours. “You’re not a bother. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to look out for each other.”

You see tears welling up in her eyes, and it breaks your heart. Nobara, who always seems so strong and unshakable, is crumbling in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching up to wipe away a tear that escapes down her cheek.

She sniffles, trying to compose herself. “Don’t be sorry. Just... don’t hide things from me, okay? We’re a team.” Her voice is softer now, the panic giving way to determination. “We’ll figure this out together.”

You nod, feeling a strange mix of relief and shame. “Okay. Together.”

Nobara takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. “First things first. You need to eat. I’m making you something, and you’re going to eat it, even if I have to feed you myself.”

You can’t help but smile at her intensity. “Yes, ma’am.”

She gives you a shaky smile in return, brushing her fingers through your hair. “And we’re going to talk about this, really talk about it. We’ll get you whatever help you need. But you’re not going through this alone, got it?”

“Got it,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the blanket she tucks around you.

Nobara stands up, a new determination in her step as she heads to the kitchen. “Just stay there and rest. I’ll be right back.”

As you lie there, waiting for her to return, you feel a sense of hope you haven’t felt in a long time. Nobara’s reaction, her over-the-top panic and fierce protectiveness, shows just how much she cares. And for the first time, you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can overcome this with her by your side.

#jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk comfort #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta x reader #toge x reader #inumaki toge x reader #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #nobara x reader #tw eating issues #disordered eating cw

[reticent-writer]

Hear me out. Hear me tf out. A reader who is Tomioka’s fraternal twin and got separated from him when he ran into the mountains, with the relatives failing to find him but catching her. Anyway, she suddenly jumps out of the infinity castle during that one moment in the first episode of the Hashira training arc. Like, just as the door is about to close, this lady just appears and uses the demon as a stepping stone to jump out, and once it closes the momentum has her slamming onto the ground and rolling a couple of feet. And she just kind of lies there before rolling over and staring at the sky, before starting to laugh and cry at the same time, babbling about how she made it, she’s alive, she’s out of that place. Now, Sanemi and Obanai have no idea who this lady is, but they want answers as to why the hell she just jumped out of that place. She’s covered in scratches and had torn her kimono to knee-length for more mobility in there. Anyway, the Kakushi bringing her to headquarters to get her treated and during the Hashira meeting Sanemi or Obanai just mention this girl who was there in their mission and who is getting checked over by the butterfly girls, but she might have important information. Pls make a fic of this.

I liked writing this it was fun. Thank you for requesting ヾ(≧▽≦*)o

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It felt like an eternity since you were kidnapped by Douma but you remember your life before. You remember running with your sister and brother, only stopping when reaching a clearing in the forest. Your sister urged you and your twin to keep moving but when you tried to stand you found yourself in an unfamiliar place.

The Infinity Castle.

It's been years before since you've seen the sun but you didn't lose hope. Your sister and brother were out there, hopefully. They become your reason for living.

------

"Awww look at you. A rare beauty but so playful... please come out, I'm not gonna hurt you." Douma laughed.

You held your breath as you hid from the demon. Quietly maneuvering through the infinite rooms in vain. You've been playing hide n seek for hours, without food or water your body is sure to give out any minute now.

"I think I really lost you. Come out please, you'll be dead if Master finds you. Besides all that I know you're hungry, you haven't eaten in a few days. You won't last long if you keep with up." He pleaded, his voice becoming quieter the more you moved but you couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

As you walked through one of the rooms you saw a demon falling from what seemed to be different from the rest of the castle's terrain. It was an opening. Something that you had been tortured with, he would make an opening far enough way so that you would have to run to get to it. Of course, he was always faster and he wouldn't even let you get close.

But this time he didn't know where you were plus he didn't open it.

This was your chance to escape and you didn't waste it.

luckily for you the room you were in was close enough to make it even with your limited stamina.

You ran as fast as you could, taking the demon by surprise and using your momentum, propelled yourself through the opening right as the demon slayer stabbed the ground.

You made it.

You got as far away from the opening as you could. you laid on your back looking up at the moon. It finally hit you, You really got out. After years of being in that horrible place, you finally escaped.

You start to smile as tears welled up in your eyes. You gasped for air but a strained laugh left your lips when you exhaled. It quickly developed into deranged and uncontrollable laughter as the crocodile tears wouldn't stop.

The two demon slayers stared at you not knowing what to do.

"Hey, what were you doing in there?" Sanemi questioned as he pointed his sword at you.

It took you a moment to calm youut as you were about to speak you passed out.

---------

*two weeks later*

"Her injuries are minor but she has so many of them that she lost a lot of blood. Judging by her physical condition she's malnourished and has been sleep-deprived for a while. It's better to let her rest for now." Ubuyashiki's son read out Shinobu's note at a hashira meeting.

"Sanemi, you and Obanai found her while in pursuit of a demon correct? Was there anything unusual about her?"

"Yes sir, she jumped out of the infinity castle as a demon went in. She was hysterical before she passed out." Sanemi explained as everyone listened intensely.

"When she wakes up I would like to talk to her with all of you present."

The rest of the meeting was uneventful.

----------

Shinobu personally looked after you while you were recovering. You didn't wake up for another week and when you did, Shinobu ensured you were healthy enough before bringing you to a meeting.

She gave you new clothes and a nice meal before leading you to the demon slayers' headquarters.

You were met with a kind smile from the master which you returned. You sat on the gravel in front of the master.

None of the hashira had arrived yet.

"How are you feeling?" Ubuyashiki asked.

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you."

"That's good to hear. Do you have any plans after this is over?

"Hmm... I haven't thought about it. I have no home to go back to and my fam- I don't know what happened to my family." You muttered the last part.

"That's ok, we can talk about that later."

One by one the hashira arrived and sat in their usual positions.

"Hello, my children it's nice to see all of you in good condition. Now to the matter a hand, Ma'am can you tell us how you got into the demons domain." Ubuyashiki opened the floor for you to talk.

"I honestly don't know, one minute I was running with my brother and sister then the next I was in a room."

This caught Giyuu's attention.

"What was it like in there."

"Torture. I could barely eat, sleep, or even breathe without being watched. And the place was never-ending and constantly changing."

"DID YOU SEE KIBUTSUJI?" The wind hashira barked.

"Kibutsuji?"

"Muzan Kibutsuji. The demon king." Ubuyashiki explained.

"Oh, Douma kept me away from him. He said if the master saw me he'd kill me. Douma is a demon with long blonde hair, a golden fan and colorful eyes."

"Did he have a number engraved in his eye? If so what was it?"

"Number 2."

"Forgive me for being so rude but I forgot to ask for your name."

"It's Tomioka Y/n."

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i hope you like it

#female reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #sibling reader #platonic #giyuu x reader #sister reader #reticent writes #reticent writer

[chilahh16]

" I do not want you to need me. I want you to love me."

How can the love that one fought for years crumble to dust from a single person that was from the past?

Was a question she had asked herself for a while now as she views Monaco in all its glory. The setting sun beyond the horizon served as a reminder how cold his love had gone. The blazing red of love was no longer there no matter how hard she searched for it. All that can be found are the debris of a broken marriage that was unable to stand the fury of time.

It all started with one call. The quiet night was broken from the blaring sound of Charles' phone. It startled the sleeping woman tangled in limbs with her husband. Her hands searched for the damn device and swiped the screen to answer the incoming call without noting the name on the screen.

" Charles?" a slurring voice came on the other line.

Y/n was stumped in her place as she recognize the voice from the other line. It was no mistaking it. Charles greatest love is on the other line. The woman that came before her. The woman that has her husband crumbling from years before. The same woman that she helped to get him over with. Y/n was unable to even make a sound. She did not know what to respond. It had been years already. So much has happened that she almost forgotten about her. She took a glimpse of her sleeping husband and all that had occurred from before replayed from her mind. Fury and sympathy surged her heart as she caress her husbands cheeks. However, she grounded herself from the hands that held her waist before responding to Charlotte.

" I'm sorry, Charlotte. Charles is sleeping right now. May I know what this is about?'

No response was heard for a few minutes and the world seemed to darkened more as those minutes stretched. Y/n mindlessly ruffle her husbands hair as the nerves came. The pain of having no idea of why she called caused anxiety to grip her heart. The years had already passed and Charlotte's name never came from their lips upon those years and now that it is, Y/n felt her heart constrict.

" Charlotte, are you okay? Do you need help?" Y/n questions as she heard sniffles from the other line yet, no answer still.

It worried the woman as something could have happened. She stood from the bed and walked over to the balcony to not wake her husband. However, the absence of warmth and his wife's frame from his hands woke the sleeping driver.

" Is everything alright, amour?" Charles' groggy voice sounded in the room which caught the attention of his wife from the phone.

The sleepy driver made way to her. Finding his hands spot on her waist as he kissed her shoulders softly, not noticing the rectangular device placed on her ear.

" Yes. Everything is fine, love." She muttered as she caress the hands on her waist.

But is it?

" You should go back to sleep. You still need to wake up early tomorrow."

" Not without you." the man grumbles. Annoyed to be woken up from his blissful sleep.

That was when Charles noticed his phone from his wife's hand. Clearly on a call from what he can see on the screen. He did not hesitate to take it and without regard turned off the phone after informing someone from the other line how they disturbed a peaceful evening. Y/n chastised her husband for the rude remark but Charles did not mind one bit and proceeded to carry her back to the comfort of their bed. The night continued blissful. The worries that Y/n had was erased from a simple hug of Charles. She thought that maybe it was nothing, maybe she is just putting more thought on it than necessary.

However, all that was thrown out of the window when another call was received a few weeks later. Charles was able to answer it and was in a rush after a few minutes. Only telling her that it was nothing important and to continue to sleep. She shrugged it off because if it was really important, Charles will tell her himself.

The same occurrence happened after. It was with Pierre that she knew her husband is with his ex one time. It also did not stop there as Arthur informed her of how Charlotte was there when they played paddle. The same things happened again and it has already been a few months since then.

Y/n and Charles had their talk about the situation. Charles assured her that it was nothing. Charlotte was going through a tough time right now and she needs someone. They almost had a fight that night but Y/n still remained understanding. Charles as well assured her that she is Mrs. Leclerc and nothing can change that. She is the only woman that he loves. Now and always.

Lunch with Pascale and Enzo was blissful however, the happening of the past months still bug Y/n. Her mind struggles to silence the growing anxiety and the depths of her doubts. She trust Charles but she does not like the situation, not one bit.

" Is everything alright, dear?" Pascale queries as she saw how conflicted her daughter had become.

" Huh?... Oh, everything's okay, Maman. Just thinking."

" If the thing that keeps you occupied really bothers you this lot. You know you can tell us, right?" Enzo interjects as his sister-in-law showed a character so beguiling.

But was it alright to tell them of what occurred. They have been in the company of Charlotte before. They know her and people around talked about how kind of a person she is. People had question how she and Charles were not the ones married. It hurts of course, but the assurance, acceptance and love that Charles and his family showed could not measure the pain of their talks. Hence, Y/n went to tell them of what has been happening to the lingering questions after.

Pascale understood her concern. So much has happened and it was because of the very woman in front of her that her son is happy and content today. She could not so much as invalidate what she felt of the situation. She knows how much it is for Y/n, but one thing is for sure, Charles is deeply enamored with his wife and will do everything in his power to silence her doubts.

" Did you talk with Charles about this?" Enzo ensure that his brother was aware of the silent battles his wife is in.

" We did."

" And?" the adult persuades her to continue.

" I told him I understand. That I support him. But sometimes it's exhausting. I do not want to compete with her that sometimes I just let myself believe he's with me because he loves me, for me, and not cause he needs me."

" Am I selfish to want my husband for myself only?" Y/n grimaces from her question as she can hear herself grow greedy. It was exhausting to be at the receiving end of pain but she takes it all with ease. Yet, how long must this be?

" No. You're not." Pascale assured with conviction as she stare at the woman before her..

This woman has been through a lot for the past months yet, she handled the situation with a smile. Even with the knowledge of how her son love Y/n, Charles sometimes makes decision that would spiral back to him - hurting people in the process.

" I'm so sorry for what has been happening but, always remember that you have us. Charlotte is his past, you are his present, his wife, my daughter and nothing can change that. I will not tolerate it if Charles has hurt, okay? Come to us for anything and we'll be there. You are a Leclerc after all." The older woman smiled as she hug her daughter.

" I will straighten out my brother for you, Lil sis. Just say the word. Anytime." Enzo jokes, diffusing the depressing aura that envelop the room.

The day went on as they, for the moment, forget the pain of the past. Simply enjoying the time with family. Y/n will worry later, right now, she would spend time with the Leclerc family - her family.

It was almost 8 in the evening when Y/n went home after a full afternoon with Pascale and Enzo, Arthur joining after when he was home. She walk the familiar hallway to their apartment determined to talk Charles. Her mind was cleared with the assurance of his family. She also remembered the promised they did after they were married: 'Keep no secrets from each other.' With this, she opened the door with a smile. A greeting at the end of her tongue but was wiped by the view on the couch.

" Charles." an exasperated call as her mind refused to utter any words.

The eyes that held love for him, dimmed as the tears threatened to fall. Charles has fucked up. Big time. And he cannot bear to leave his wife, thinking of hideous things when in fact nothing has happened.

"Y/n, this is not what you think this is. Look at..." Charles tried to explain however, his wife has already made way to their bedroom.

The tears fell and a strangled noise made way from Y/n's lips. Her heart constricted - not wanting to believe what had been seen but, it was as clear as day. A drunk Charlotte was in the arms of her husband in their couch, their living room, their house. How can she manage to deny it now. How can she try to reason with herself that Charles loves her and only her.

" Love, look at me. Please." he pleaded as he tried to make way to her.

" Do you love her?"

The question stunned Charles. He could not seem to comprehend where it is coming from. Was everyday that they are together, waking up and sleeping with each not enough to show that he does love her?

" All those times you said that what happened between you two was nothing. That you cannot forgive her for what she did before. Was it all a lie? Did you ever love me, Charles?" a broken plea it was.

" Y/n, just hear me out okay. All those times, Charlotte just needed my help. It does not mean anything okay? You're my wife. She is from the past and no longer has a place in the present."

Does she really? Because looking at now, she can be seen from every angle of their lives. She started occupying a space in their marriage and she have it broken. Hence, she sputtered something totally incomprehensible.

" If she really is then make your choice."

Silenced stretched in the four-cornered space as the suggestion hangs in the air. It echoed in Charles' ears as it hurt for Y/n to ask. However, it must be said and done with. She could no longer play this games with her husband and his ex. It was time to face whatever it is that is happening in their lives. Because the longer this happens, she'll finally be torn apart.

" I cannot continue to share your love, Charles. I will not. So choose now. Charlotte or me?"

No matter how much it hurts to have the man you love make a choice between his ex and his wife, it does not equate to the pain one would go through just seeing the past still taking ahold of the now.

" Amour, please don't do this. You know I need you." Charles held onto her arm as he tried to deescalate the situation however, his sentence further tore her heart to pieces.

" Charles, I don't want you to need me. I want you to love me!" His wife yelled. Unable to contain how broken she has been for this past months.

How the smiles and laughter are but deceitful faces she shows to him. That no matter how much she understands her husband, she is but human that feels jealousy. It is not easy to compete with the greatest love when you are unsure what title you bear.

" Of course I love you! I love you so much that it sometimes hurt. I would do anything for you if you so wish, do you understand? I would leave everything behind for you just as much as I would give you everything you desire. I need you because I'll die without you. You are the air that I breath. You are everything to me." Charles explained as his hands found its place to her cheeks.

His closed lids and trembling form speaks volume of how this situation tore him apart. The very woman he worshipped has felt that she was not loved and it was all his fault. He made her feel this way. How horrible he was.

" I really do love you. So please...stay." the ever confident Charles pleaded.

Y/n was left to stand as the man she promised to God and the world to love was crumbling in front of her. She did this to him and it was so painful to hear the sobs that racked from her love. Hence, she gripped the hands holding her, tightly, as she placed her lips onto his. She put everything in the kiss. Words that were left unsaid, the apology, the doubts, insecurities and beyond it the love she has for him. They left the world to crumble behind them as they relish unto the moment with each other. They left the past behind closed door. Never to be opened again.

Maybe their marriage cannot stand the challenges of time but, their love does. And it was all they need.

#ferrari #Charles Leclerc #Marriage #Ex #angst #Charles Leclerc x reader #Wife Leclerc reader #Charlotte Sine #Leclerc Family #Arthur #Enzo Leclerc #F1 #Ferrari #Pascale Leclerc

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 8

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt , language, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture

Word Count: 4538

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You asked Ben again, “What did you do to those people?” while he continued to look at your furious and angered look.

He avoided watching the news and simply replied in a dry voice, “I didn't mean to hurt them. Everything happened so quickly.”

Despite your hopes that, after all this time, he would change a little, you came to the conclusion that his appearance was the only thing that had changed. He was the same guy who hurt everyone around him like they were just insects, never thinking twice about it. He remained the same merciless man who just cared about himself.

You were too ignorant to believe that it was Crimson Countess had drastically changed him, but this was simply another lie you told yourself in defense of Ben's behavior. It was just who he really was.

You talked softly while Butcher continued to watch TV, “How can you even stay the same after all the things that happened to you?”

“I killed the doctor who hurt and tortured you. You already knew; whatever I did for him, he deserved it,” he angrily said, gesturing to you as though he were doing you a favor and somehow trying to convince you.

“Should I feel like a graduate and thank you?” You questioned him bitterly, glaring at him. “You are the reason I spent decades being imprisoned and subjected to torture in vain. You are the reason I am currently homeless and the state's number two foe. How come you're still so blind and self-centered?”

Ben grumbled, “Calm down, baby,” ignoring your inquiries as he roughly grabbed the remote control out of Butcher's hand and flicked through the channels. “We can talk about things at a later time. For now, take a moment to rest.”

Ben continued to stare at the TV and shifted on the couch in an attempt to make himself more comfortable, so you replied, “Don't call me 'baby.'”

“It looks like Tony Montana is going to bed alone tonight.” With a cunning grin, Butcher attempted to reclaim the remote control from Ben's grasp. “Also, don’t be dramatic and so upset, you have a place to stay, you’re not homeless.”

“Tony Montana—who the fuck is he?” Ben muttered, pushing Butcher's hands a little too hard while refusing to give up the remote control. “I’m in charge in here. What I watch, you'll watch too.”

“Hey, you remember our deal, don't you? I'm hoping you won't back down.”

You turned to Butcher and questioned, “What deal?” with a confused gaze on your face when he suddenly started speaking in a serious and mysterious tone.

Ben stepped in immediately and shot Butcher a quick glance, saying, “It's not so important.”

“All right, there's nothing to worry about. Your teammate just promised me that he would help me kill a cunt named Homelander.”

Ben kept shooting Butcher with a deadly look as he immediately spilled the beans.

“I'm not worried about anything,” you cut Butcher off abruptly, averting Ben's tough stare. “Whatever he's up to, he's alone in this. But tell me, what’s deal about.”

“Sweetheart, I don't need your help anyway. You simply stay at home and take care of things while you chill,” Ben said in an amused way, attempting to hide his tiny sense of hurt that came from your coldness.

He didn't intend to include anything that would distress you further, but he couldn't stop remembering the times you supported and fought alongside him. He would never ask you to get involved in the Homelander situation, though, since he knows you've already been through a lot of terrible things. He was also too proud to accept your assistance.

Turning to face you, Butcher added, “You don’t have to be so ruthless. He made the deal to get help from me to save you.”

Butcher believed that, given Homelander's strength, helping him would be beneficial and that it would be great if you would just soften and offer a helping hand. Butcher knew Soldier Boy would be happy to let you fight alongside him, as he was aware that he took your suit from Legend. You were once the strongest superwoman, after all, and he would have a better chance of finally killing Homelander.

Hughie, thankfully, returned to join you with a meal in his hands before you could ask Butcher any more questions. You were so hungry that you didn't even realize it until you smelled pizza. It was all about pleasure, yet even if you starved for decades, you wouldn't die.

Hughie smiled hesitantly and said, “Sorry, I didn't ask you before ordering, but I hope you're okay with pizza.” It's likely that he was the only decent person in the room. You wondered why this person was willing to work with a man like Butcher. He gave off an air of deception.

“Of course it's okay,” you said as soon as you smelled it. You then gave him a graditude look and said, “Thanks a lot.”

Ben quickly got up, tossed the remote control in Butcher's face, and grabbed the pizza from Hughie's hands as he sat next to you before you could move. Ben stepped closer, spreading his legs a little and making contact with your thighs, but you put some distance between you two right away. You didn’t understand why he was acting like that out of the blue, but you didn’t ask anything.

None of you spoke, even though you felt Ben's gaze briefly lingering on you. Although you were unsure of what Ben truly wanted from you, you were determined to learn from your past mistakes. Therefore, it was best to clarify it for him as well.

Upon seeing Noir's visual on TV, you exclaimed in shock, “Is Noir still working for Vought?”

That was the moment you understood. Earving never came to save you. If he just wanted to, you knew he could and would find you. You could understand why he might not have wanted to take the risk of going through the same things with you if he had a legitimate reason for not saving you. You had no right to be selfish. However, you were certain that you would behave differently if he were in your place. You therefore couldn't help but feel a little let down.

Ben angrily remarked, “Of course he does,” as he watched you devour the pizza. “He wouldn't even take his shit without the permission of Vought. Fucking traitor. He didn't even give a fuck about the things you went through all those years. I had no doubts that he was going to abuse your friendship. There was always something sneaky about him.”

You couldn’t left out a small hiss as Ben started to talk about loyalty.

“All right,” you replied, casting him a piercing glance. “I got used to being betrayed.”

He aggressively exclaimed, “Don't compare me with that son of a bitch,” and launched into a self-defense tirade. “I came to save you too as soon as I was free, and I looked for you everywhere.”

“How could I ever compare you with him while I know you are worse. And yes, Ben, you're quite considerate to have searched me in the Countess' home. Many thanks for it.”

“I payed a visit to her because I knew she was most probably the one tricked you. It was nothing else.”

“Whatever,” you said back harshly. “I don’t care anyways.”

Butcher interrupted you after making a brief phone call in the kitchen, saying, “Listen here, Bonnie and Clyde. Hughie and I need to get out and meet some buddies, but if you're not going to make trouble and if you don't want to fuck in peace all night, it's best if you don't stay at home. In every other case of emergency, you need to join us.”

You hurriedly swallowed the large slice of pizza and gasped, “We won't... I mean, we wouldn't,” to Butcher. Your cheeks flushed. “It's not like we're together or anything, so don't misinterpret and talk like this, please.”

Ben leaned back to the coach and said, “Well, I'm all in, baby,” pleased to see you flushed and in a panic. “Keep in mind that. Since I'm free, I didn't even fucking jerk off once. You can use me however you like,” he stated, stretching his legs and making an attempt to brush against you briefly while grinning genuinely and invitingly.

You grumbled, “I'm trying to enjoy my meal here,” ignoring the absolute filth that was flowing from his mouth.

“All right, that's OK.” Butcher urged you to complete your dinner, saying, “You can continue eating where we go. We must leave in five minutes.”

Ben growled, “Don't fucking order her around.”

“It's fine,” you stopped eating right away. “Where we're going to go?”

“We have to get some Temp-V from Hughie's friend. It appears that we will need to use it soon,” Butcher replied, glancing at Ben. “Unfortunately, you can't beat Homeland with just one guy.”

Ben did not even respond to Butcher's crap; he only rolled his eyes. He was aware that Homelander would be the easiest to take down. He was Soldier Boy, and someone of Butcher's age wouldn't fully get who he was.

You and Ben were seated in the back of Butcher's car, and Ben was covering the whole place almost as if he wanted you to lean into his body. He was always on the move, both his hands and his legs, and occasionally you would think he looked a bit bashful if you didn't know just how arrogant he really was. Somehow, you sensed the uncertainty, but you didn't look him up or ask him questions.

You couldn't help but feel confused and depressed as you gazed out of the car window at the enormous, gleaming structures. You no longer felt like you belonged in the world because so many years had passed in a tiny little cage. It seemed as though no one knew you, cared about you, or you had no place to stay. It's not your world, but rather other people's, that you see when you peek out the window.

You said, “Everything looks so different,” as a sense of melancholy took over you.

“Not at all,” Ben remarked in an arrogant tone, as if he had figured out everything in a single day. “I've learned many things; I will teach you all; don't worry.”

You challenged him, casting him a skeptical glance. “What do you know?”

“Well, I might teach you a thing or two because you're too eager to learn. For instance, GPS and the Internet were quite helpful in helping us learn about you and the place you were kept,” he added with pride as he smiled at you and waited for your reaction.

You whispered, “You're just making those words up,” unsure if he was trying to trick you.

“Those words are real words. I had said the same to that fuckface; believe me, sweetheart,” he continued, giving Hughie a harsh shoulder pat. “Hand over your damn android phone to me.”

Hughie murmured in distress, “Oh, God,” as Butcher nodded awkwardly and gave him an odd look. “Just don’t break it or something, please.”

Hughie handed his phone reluctantly to Ben, who took it with a swift move, and Ben used it like a pro, tapping the screen quickly. When he wrote down his name and yours on the screen called 'Google', your eyes widened open as you saw a ton of images and details about the two of you, Payback, and everything else.

Captivated by what Ben showed you, you muttered, “Everything about us is written down there.”

“See,” he declared with pride, chuckling at your bewildered response. “I told you I was very well-informed. The name of this one is Internet.”

You challenged him again, interested in learning more about this small device, which seemed to know a lot of things. The modern world is unquestionably something else, with easy access to knowledge at any time and about any subject matter.

“I am familiar with social media. If you don't want to be identified by your real identity, you can put up a fake profile and follow anybody you want. I made one for the two of us as well.” Ben responded, seeming proud of everything he had achieved with a cunning smile on his face.

You pretended to understand everything he said as you asked, “And what's your fake name?”

“It’s ‘soldierboyy/n69.' Pretty creative, isn't it?”

“Oh my gosh, Ben,” you said, pushing the phone and his hands in an annoyed tone as your face turned red. “Everyone will know that it is you. I shall be accused of having once again supported your actions if they find out the identity of your account. Why do you act so carelessly?”

“Everyone has those fake names,” Ben said, grimacing at how much you disapproved of what he had done. Nobody will find out because I'm not using it anyway."

He intended to show you that he never thought of himself apart from you and that he thought of you even while he was setting up the account, but all he managed was to distress and upset you once more. Observing your defensively crossed arms on your chest, he sighed and moved his strong arms to your seat in an attempt to get close to you.

“How are you so sure?” you asked as he handed over the phone to Hughie in a rude manner.

“Because that's the way the modern world works, sweetheart. Nothing and anyone are real when it comes to Internet.”

“Indeed,” Butcher said, glancing at the two of you through the mirror. “He is right; no one will find out. It's not really a big deal; trust me, if it were, I would have problems as well because of him.”

You cut it short, closing your eyes and lowering your head to the seat. “Okay,” you mumbled.

It was as though some odd numbness overcame your body, leaving you exhausted and unbalanced even after decades of sleep. It was most likely due to the quantity of sleep that your body became accustomed to, and it's also possible that you were experiencing a side effect from what you experienced in the lab. Nonetheless, it didn't concern you because you knew you still had your strength. You only needed to get a bit more rest. As you closed your eyes to give your body a break until you got there, you inhaled deeply.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling Ben's gentle touch on your cheek, and heard him say, “You really turned into sleeping beauty, didn't you?” in a lighthearted manner.

“Have we arrived?” you muttered as you opened your eyes and noticed his intense gaze on you. The moment Butcher and Hughie slammed the car door, you immediately fully came to your senses.

Ben nodded, confused, not knowing how to react to your coldness as you gently moved his hands away from your face.

Ben and you had just followed Butcher and Hughie to the small, slightly desolate house. You looked around the room, and the other two women, who were glancing at you warily, exchanged glances. You could tell they were supes, just like you, from the whiff of Comp-V in their scents. You were a little nervous because you had no idea what their intentions were toward you. You had no friends or someone to rely on anymore, and you were a stranger to everything after all.

“Ladies, how are you doing here?” Butcher grabbed a glass of whiskey from the kitchen and inquired as he sat down right away on the closest couch.

“I can't believe you and you especially you Hughie,” the blonde remarked angrily. “You two really set them both free, and you forced me to take so much Temp-V; we're going to be caught. It's only a matter of time.”

“So you're the supe woman that bottom-faced guy pounding?” Ben aggressively exclaimed, pushing the short-haired man to the right while he snatched a cola from the refrigerator. “And the one who works for Vought when you're not getting off and doing other things.”

“Stop it, Ben,” you said in a warned tone as his abrupt aggression caused the air to thicken.

“Why don't we just sit down and have a nice chat?” Hughie looked at you anxiously, as if you wanted to soothe Ben before anything happened.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a cunning grin when he spotted you approaching him, and you gave him a cold look while he sipped his coke in joy.

“Well, Annie, that it wasn't in vain. Soldier Boy and I struck very useful bargain, didn't we?” Butcher inquired, glancing back to Ben with a sly smile. “We're going to kill Homelander together.”

You felt uneasy, and your thoughts turned to the Homelander once again. Even if you didn't care about Ben at all, you couldn't help but feel concerned because you were both strangers to Vought and the outside world now that Ben had gotten into so much trouble. Not only did you not want to return to the lab, but you also didn't want Ben to go through the same painful experiences. Even though he had been vile to you, you didn't want him to suffer forever in Russia.

Annie replied, “You should have told me, Hughie,” casting a disappointed glare at her boyfriend. “You’re so acting strangely these days.”

Hughie insecurely responded, “I know, I know,” rubbing her cheeks. “And I’m really sorry for it. It won’t happen again.”

The man with short hair said, “You all know that they both are being searched by the government, right?”

Butcher shot back, “Of course we all fucking know that, Frenchie.”

Annie looked at you and said, “Well, I guess Y/N's situation is worse,” while you stood by Ben, watching him carefully to make sure he didn't suddenly lose his temper and start some serious drama. “Well, she's a known traitor after all.”

You immediately defended yourself by saying, “I'm not a traitor,” and you were enraged at her haughty demeanor. Despite her lack of knowledge, she was constantly talking about things she had no idea about. “Vought only spread lies and caused us pain in order to build up the next generation, which is your generation. They tortured me for years just because I wanted to quit.”

Annie's expression softened as she realized that Vought would do something like that and that she was having trouble as well in Seven. She then apologized to you by looking at you and sincerely saying, “I'm sorry to hear that.”

She went on, making an effort to get you to see how complicated the situation was, saying, “But you need to understand that no one will believe you. For all this time, you have been regarded as a spy for the entire world. The same remains for Soldier Boy.”

“What is your point?” Ben cut her off with a harsh voice.

Ben was becoming mad at those morons; they were just some stupid kids who liked to order other kids around, but he was a man, a true leader, the strongest supe to live, and they had no idea what him and you had been through or who had been in charge decades earlier. He was already becoming a little tense about that blonde's cunning ideas, so he realized he had to proceed with caution going forward. He had to watch out for you too, in order to keep you safe.

With defensive hands on her hips, Annie retorted, “The thing is, it's best if you don't see each other for a while. I can help you spend a week in various secure locations, separated.”

Ben abruptly tensed up, enraged that the blonde had already made plans in her cunning mind to keep him away from you. “No fucking way,” he said. He was certain that those fucked-brains would propose something so incredibly moronic.

Even if it made sense, you realized those new guys weren't to be trusted as they were strangers. It was true that you needed some alone time apart from Ben, but for the time being, it was preferable to ignore what you’re told.

“Everyone is talking about what happened in New York and Ohio,” Annie said furiously. “I’m just asking you two be hidden for a week. Everything’s already complicated in Vought and I have my own problems.”

“Look, sneaky woman,” Ben hissed, “I don’t give fuck about your problems or anything at all. If you ever suggest such thing, you won’t have a head to think such idiotic things anymore. I’m warning you.”

“Ben, you need to calm down,” you said. You scowled at the feeling that his chest was unusually heated compared to normal. 

Frenchie agreed, saying, “Y/N is right; there is no need to fight each other.” The supe woman next to him smiled and patted his shoulders.

Butcher responded, “Annie is right too, though,” as he examined the Temp-V carefully on his lap. “Too much attention has been paid to Soldier Boy during the past three days. We are also doomed if he is seen soon enough.”

“They could be right,” you acknowledged, nodding to Butcher, understanding that his points were reasonable. Since you and Ben were currently the state's number one and two foes, you also didn't want to get into any sort of trouble.

Ben cursed, “Fuck that,” and he gave Butcher a menacing stare. He got offended at the fact that you instantly agreed with them but not with him. “I didn't realize I had done business with so many jerks. If you're that afraid of what's ahead, I might accept your suggestion, but Y/N is staying with me.”

“Calm down, buddy. Why are you so obsessed?” Butcher questioned, putting the bag down from his lap.

When you realized Ben was about to start an argument without reason, you asked him, “Why are you being like this?” in an irritated tone.

“Are you saying that you're prepared to follow those fuckfaces' instructions?” While you could tell he was angry, he inquired quietly, “What's wrong with you?”

Ben set down the coke and paid no attention to Butcher's irritating remarks. Instead, his attention was drawn to you. The fact that you didn't trust him but did trust the new people you had met most disturbed him. It was not them who saved you, but it was him who considered your safety and future. Still, you were ready to follow what they had to say. You'd been away from each other for a long time, so there was no reason to spend another minute separately.

“I'm not saying anything, Ben. I just want you to quit being irrationally dissatisfied and to be reasonable.”

Butcher sighed as he watched you start to debate, but Annie grasped Hughie's arm and guided him to another room to have a conversation.

Ben stated, “I'm not getting angry for no reason,” while attempting to stay controlled.

Despite Ben was desperate to touch you, he restrained himself since he knew that you two needed to have discussed the situation before acting on it. How in the world was he supposed to talk to you properly after a week apart? “I'm just saying, we don't have to spend a week alone and separated,” Ben said with a low voice.

Your eyes wandered around everywhere except for him.

“I'm not sure, Ben,” you teased him, feeling hesitant about his response. “Maybe we should.”

“How can you be sure that those people won't imprison you to a metal box once more? Do you really want to go back to that lab? You're saying you have faith in them, but not in me?”

You angrily gasped, “Don't you ever talk to me about trust. I would never make the same mistake by trusting you again.”

He tried to calm himself down, saying, “I'm the only one who saved you,” but the heat inside his chest kept growing.

“Will you stop arguing?” Butcher got up and asked, watching Ben trap you against the kitchen table while grinning at Ben and sipping his whiskey. “She obviously wants to be by herself for a while. Would you please just accept her decision and let her to enjoy herself?”

Ben angrily remarked, “Mind your fucking own business; we are fucking having a conversation here.”

You stopped disputing with him and cast a puzzled glance at his chest as soon as you felt the warmth in his chest increasing once more.

Butcher said, “It's like you're forcing her for something she doesn't want to though. Don't be such a drama queen,” ignoring Frenchie's warnings. “She might just want to spend time alone in a nice place and fuck with some hot dudes, savor the time she missed all those years.”

Ben snarled, turning to face Butcher and ignoring you this time. “Watch your fucking language," he growled. “If you say one more word, I fucking swear I'll rip your heads off.”

Ben's chest began to glow suddenly before he could finish his sentence, and your eyes widened, sensing the anxiety and the heat coming from his body.

“Ben,” you whispered quietly, uneasy with his rage and the anguish on his face, as if he tried to maintain self-control.

With an expression of fright on his face, Frenchie and the supe woman next to him also retreated a step. “Calm down, buddy,” Butcher muttered. “Let's not cause another accident. You've already done enough damage, huh. ”

But Ben's chest continued to glow, alerting you. “Hey, what's wrong with you?” you asked as you walked up to him, stroking his arms and then his face and making him to look at you.

He snarled, “I can't hold it,” and shoved your hands away right away. “Stay away from me.”

Instead of following commands, you remained in the same spot and continued to massage his upper arms in an effort to soothe him though you got extremely anxious. Then, in the hopes of calming him down a little, you put your hands on his burning, hot chest. Even if there was smoke slightly arising from his body, your hands felt chilly.

You whispered, “It's okay,” feeling his temperature drop beneath your fingertips gradually.

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