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clxja16 · 9 months

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Charles Leclerc X Wolff!Reader

Genre: betrayal (?)

Warnings: I think there's some swearing, angst

Word Count: 5K+

Author's Note: Okay you guys voted for this one, and honestly I thought that the fake dating trope was going to win but I guess not. also I kind of need help with the genre, because its not really forbidden lovers. Like is there a genre of your parents betraying your trust in the name of protecting you??? but anyway lmk what you guys think. Actually please tell me what you think, because I'm scared I made this too dramatic. enjoy though <3

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You lingered in one of the back halls before the start of qualifying. It was the Austrian Grand Prix. You looked around making sure that no one was in sight. Charles started to giggle at your antics of keeping this under wraps. You pulled at him, trying to push him right out the door.

“Go back to your garage,” you say gently pushing Charles further out the back entry of the Mercedes garage.

“After I get a good luck kiss?” Charles asks, as he holds his hands up in surrender.

You shake your head at him, before saying, “quickly, before someone sees us,” pulling Charles into a kiss, by his race suit. Charles grabs your face with both hands, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss further. You pull away first, worried about who might catch you sneaking about the garage halls, “okay now go, I’ll see you tonight.”

Charles doesn’t let go of your face, pulling you back in for a quick peck on the lips, “okay I’m going.” Charles finally lets you go, and shoots you a quick wink before walking off.

You turn back around to take your place in the garage next to your father, when you hear him calling out for you. You look back to see Charles has walked just far enough away to be out of sight, as your father turns the corner to come face to face with you. You let out a breath of relief that they missed each other. “y/n,” your father calls to your attention, “let’s get settled, qualifying is about to start.”

“Yes, daddy,” you answer, following after your father, to watch qualifying.

You have just finished your degree, a Masters in Business Administration from HBS and a Masters of Science from Harvard John A. Paulson SEAS. It took you nearly 5 and a half years to complete, but you did it regardless. Now, you attend the races to better learn how to apply the knowledge learnt in school to running a formula one team. This is all so that one day you will take over the formula one team from your father.

As you watched George and Lewis set out to do their first few qualifying laps of the session, you longed for it to be you in those cars. You really didn't dream of being behind the scenes, you dream of being up front and center, in the limelight, in the car. You wanted to set the fastest lap, you wanted to be getting grand prix victories, you wanted to win championships. However, you didn’t get a seat in formula 2, so your parents did the ‘reasonable’ thing and sent you off to school, instead of waiting around for the chance of a seat opening up.

“Look here,” your father spoke to you, as he pointed at some data on one of the many monitors in front of him.

“George is a tenth too early,” you say, trying your best to understand the data in front of you.

“Yes, exactly, good,” your father praises, before speaking with a couple of the race engineers. “Now we don’t want George to overly focus on what is going wrong, so we praise, advice and praise again.” You listen to the radio as the engineer, compliments George on his turn 3 and 4, critiques his turn 7, and compliments his turn 10 and 11. “When you take over, you have to remember that you are going to have to manage the drivers' psyche as well as their driving.”

“Father, I won’t be taking over for a long time, you’re gonna need to find someone in between you and me, to manage the team.”

“No,” your father declares, like his decision is final, “I will retire late, and you will start early.”

“Yes Father,” you say, no reason to start an argument now.

“Congratulations on another podium,” you spoke sweetly to Charles at the end of the Austrian grand prix weekend. You and him were hiding out in his hotel room, trying your best to stay away from the cameras, from fans and most importantly from your father.

“It’s only the second podium of the season,” Charles said as he dried his hair with the towel while walking out of the bathroom. “We’re so far behind this season, it’s laughable.”

“You could always make the move to Mercedes, Daddy would love to have you racing for him,” you say, as you wrap your arms around Charles, after he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

You can hear Charles chuckle a little, before turning around to face you. “Never,” he says with a smile, pushing you back down on the bed, kissing you deeply. You can’t contain the laughter that spills from your lips.

“We would make sure you win championships,” you argue, teasing Charles once again.

“And who’s giving up a seat for me?” Charles asks, as he moves from your lips down your neck, spreading his kisses all around.

“Lewis isn’t going to stay much longer,” you reveal.

“What?” Charles asked, as he pulled away to look at you. The seriousness setting in.

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” you start off, as you sit up in the bed, looking at Charles deeply, “Daddy offered Lewis another four years, Lewis said he only wanted to sign on for two more right now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, “believe it or not, Lewis does not reveal his intentions to me like you do.”

Charles cracks a smile hearing you tease, “well, maybe I could do Mercedes silver,” he says as he goes back to kissing you.

You and Charles spend the night together, as the two of you have done many times before. The next morning, you try to sneak out early enough where no one notices your empty hotel room. Charles makes your heart feel full, being around him makes you feel at peace, he wears your worries like his own. He’s everything you ever wanted and needed, and more. You know that there was no plausible way you could keep this a secret any longer. You love him too much to pretend nothing is going on. Although, you also know that your father would not be the happiest, he always said drivers weren’t the type of people you bring home. However Charles is different, you know he’s what you need, you know that you can bring him home.

When you did make it back to your own hotel room, you don’t think anyone checked in on the empty room. You made quick work of packing up your belongings, your father was flying out of Vienna this afternoon, to get a jumpstart on Silverstone. It being a home grand prix for both of your drivers, the entire week was packed with events. All events in which you had to attend.

After arriving in Silverstone, did you finally take a breather. George and Lewis both went to visit their families for the first day. This allowed you and your father to spend some time away from the race track. Father instead just went to the factory, and spent some time in the office. You on the other hand went out with Mamma, before she had to head down to Monza for the F1 Academy race.

“Mamma,” you called out to Susie, “do you think Daddy is serious about me taking over the team one day?”

Your question was enough to stop Susie in her tracks, “yes, I do think he’s serious about it.” She gave you a perplexed look. Your father has been talking about you taking over the team since you went off to college. He is determined that with his recommendation the board will approve for the team principal position.

“I don’t know if that’s what I want to do though,” you say truthfully. “I don’t know if I can handle being so close, but not being able to race.” As much as your mind was focused on being a team principal, your heart wanted to drive.

Susie came up to you, pushing your hair behind your ear, holding your face. She had a gentle smile on her face, but there was a sadness behind her eyes that you couldn’t place. “You are racing, if you take over the team, you are still a part of the race, but if you walk away, you will only be a spectator.”

You sigh, you know she’s right, “you’re right, like you always are.”

Susie laughs at your joke, “tell your Father because he never seems convinced that I’m always right.”

You laugh, as you and Susie enter the restaurant for lunch. “Mamma, can I ask you another question?”

“Of course sweetheart,” Susie answers worryingly, you are not normally this ominous.

“Would you be upset if I started seeing a driver?”

Susie doesn’t hide the shock on her face, after your question, “who is it?” She smirks at you, you weren’t the best at hiding your feelings from Susie. She was the first to know about your first boyfriend in High school. She was the first to know about the guy who cheated on you. She was the first to know about the college boy you wanted to bring home. And she was the first to know that none of them were enough to match you.

“It’s no one, it's just a hypothetical, Mamma.”

“Who, sweetheart?”

You debate for a second about how to answer, but you know you can’t lie. You gave away too much, and Susie knows you only use ‘hypothetical’ when it's real. “Charles.”

“Leclerc?” Susie doesn’t mask her shock for a single second.

“Mamma,” you whine at her reaction.

“Sweetheart, your father is gonna have an aneurysm when he hears this.”

“Mamma,” you whine again, this time more seriously, as you feel the water works coming on.

“Sweetheart?” Susie questions, her face going from shock to stone cold serious as she sees how upset you are. “This is serious.”

You sigh, “I really like him, Mamma. He makes me very happy.” You look at Susie, and you don’t like the look she has even more.

She looks very seriously at you, while also having the ‘its not good’ look. “Your father is not going to like this,” she says honestly, “but,” you watch Susie as she begins to smile, “if you’re happy, that is what's important.”

You begin to smile as well, “Daddy will get over it right?”

“I hope so,” Susie says truthfully. You were Toto’s oldest, nothing would ever be good enough for you. You were his pride and joy, you were the first, and as the first, you are everything to your father. Susie knows this, and she knows that no matter how much Charles tries, Toto still won’t think he’s good enough for you.

Susie reminds you that the best way to handle this, is to inform your father sooner rather than later. You agree, but you want to make sure that you and Charles are on the same page as well. Thursday night, once again you are hiding out in Charles' hotel room, instead of staying in your own room. The two of you cuddle together on the bed as a movie plays on the TV.

“Charles,” you start off softly, afraid to disturb the delicate peace that’s settled across the room, “where do you see this going?”

“What do you mean by that?” Charles asked, as he glanced at you.

“Us, our relationship, where do you see it going?” You stared at Charles, while listening to his steady heartbeat.

“I don’t know,” Charles answers, his answer holds a brutal truth that you don’t like, you sit up to look at Charles, “but, I hope it goes far and long.” Charles continues to lay in bed while you stare at him, “ I hope that it gets out of hotel rooms, and garage halls, and private phone calls. I hope it gets you into some red Ferrari gear,” you smile at Charles’ preposterous hope, “I hope that it gets further than this. I love you y/n.”

“I love you too,” you reassure.

“Why do you ask me that ma chère?”

“I’m going to tell my father about us,” you say, “and your plans to move to Mercedes.” You just have to tease him a little bit.

Charles laughs at you, “you mean your plans to be a Ferrari fan from now on.” And he always knew how to handle your teasing.

You laugh going to kiss Charles, “that’s so much work,” you say with another kiss, “you should just switch teams.”

Charles laughs sarcastically, he loves the banter. “y/n,” he calls. It stops you, he never uses your name, “I really do love you.” He’s probably told you this same sentiment over a thousand times, but each time, it still feels like the first time.

Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling, “I love you too.” Somehow these ‘I love you's' are different, they’re more significant, more meaningful, more genuine, more heartfelt, more profound. They’re more serious, because they’re not just ‘I love you,’ they’re a promise, a commitment, a lifetime, together.

“Daddy, please can you be rational about this?” You ask as you follow your father about the Monaco home. Trying to get him to stop complaining about your choices in men.

“Why couldn’t you date George, at least you would still be supporting Mercedes,” your Father says as the two of you make your way into the kitchen to see Mamma and Jack.

“Mamma do you hear him?” You ask, indicating your father as ‘him.’ “George is very much in a relationship, Father”

“And what’s wrong with Lewis?” Your father clearly is not thinking about the age difference between you and Lewis.

You looked to Mamma to see if your father was serious, and even she was shocked with the suggestion, “you would be okay with me dating someone that is 14 years my senior?” you ask with a brow raised to your father, “you’ve convinced me Daddy, I will stop seeing Charles and start seeing Lewis.”

Your father sighs, “that is not what I…”

“Daddy, I invited Charles over for dinner, tomorrow night, that way you can properly meet him as my partner, instead of as a driver.” You tell your father, hoping that you're just imagining the steaming coming out of his ears, “one dinner, Daddy, that’s all. He makes me really happy.”

“Okay,” your Father says. You don’t miss the slight eye roll he gives though.

“Thank you Daddy,” you say, giving him a hug, before running off to your room like a teenage girl to call Charles and let him know about dinner tomorrow night.

After your father hears your bedroom door shut, does he turn to his wife. “Susie,” he calls out, still listening for you, to see if you were coming back out. “A word, privately.”

“Okay,” Susie answers a bit confused about the request, she turns to Jack, “why don’t you go play for right now.” Jack nods along excitedly, before running out the room. “Toto, what is it?”

“She can’t date Charles.” Toto says, turning his full attention to his wife.

“What?”

“Susie, I have seen the drivers in relationships. They have their girlfriend one weekend, then they have a club girl the next weekend, and then some lucky fan the following weekend. Charles is no different.” Toto doesn’t hold back in his recounting of the drivers stepping out on their partners, “y/n is gonna get hurt, and her entire image will be tainted by being cheated on by Charles.”

“Toto don’t you think you’re being a little unfair.” Susie tries her best to defend Charles, but she knows Toto is telling the truth. She’s seen it too, from a number of drivers amongst the ranks throughout the years.

“Charles is a hell of a driver, but I'm not gonna allow him to ruin my daughter.” Toto declares as final, “we need to find a way to stop them from seeing each other before the public catches wind of their relationship.”

“Toto,” Susie takes a breath, if they do this, they would have to tread very carefully, or they could end more than just your relationship with Charles. “If she ever finds out that we are interfering in her life like this, she won’t forgive us, she's not a kid anymore.”

“She wasn’t a kid when we pulled her from racing,” Toto drags up a long forgotten and regretted moment, “we do what we have to, to protect our children, regardless of how it may look.”

“We’ll need to play this close to the vest.”

To say the evening was filled with tension and awkwardness would be an understatement. Your father continuously gave Charles dirty looks throughout the night, and you wanted to slap him for being so childish. Susie was pleasant throughout the evening. Jack was just being Jack. He probably talked the most, asking Charles about what it was like to be a real race car driver.

“This is a very lovely meal,” Charles says to Susie. You appreciate him trying his best to not ruffle your father’s feathers.

“Thank you Charles,” Susie appreciates the compliments. She doesn’t know what is best, because Toto is determined to stop you and Charles from seeing each other.

“Charles, did you ever pee in the car?” Jack asks, as he shovels another pile of food in his mother.

“Jack,” you say in a scolding manner, while Charles just laughs at the question.

Charles has to take a sip of water before answering, “I try my best to make sure I use the bathroom before I get into the car.”

“Enough questions Jack,” you say to your little brother, getting irritated with how much he was talking.

“I just wanted to ask the racecar driver,” Jack pouts. He makes that face with an exaggerated frown, that almost makes you feel guilty.

“Jack, we’re all race car drivers. Me, Mamma and Daddy have all raced cars before and you never ask us.” you argue back, you almost feel stupid that you have to argue with a five year old.

“But you didn’t make it to formula 1,” Jack points out, and now you don’t feel guilty, you just feel sad that Jack had to point out one of your biggest regrets in life.

“Jack,” Susie says, scolding your brother.

“I didn’t know you raced,” Charles says, turning to look at you.

You smile, thinking back to the time, “Yeah, I did karting for years, then I did formula renault, F4 and F3.”

“Why did you stop?” Charles asks, wondering how you could give it up.

“I didn’t get a seat in Formula two, and the agreement was if I could get a seat I could race, but I wouldn’t pass up opportunities to race. I got into college, so I gave up racing and went back to school.” You reveal to Charles, he can hear the regret in your voice, but he chooses not to point it out. You don’t see that look Susie and Toto exchange when they hear your retelling of events.

“I see,” Charles says, “It’s a shame, I think you would’ve been a hell of a driver.”

You chuckle at Charles, “I would definitely have more wins than you by now,” you tease.

“Oh?” Charles smirks at you, “you would?”

“Of course I would, because I would be driving for Mercedes, for sure.” You chuckle at your own joke.

Charles shakes his head at you, his smile spreading far and wide. Susie watches you and Charles, she's been watching you throughout the night and she knows Charles is enough for you. She knows that this is your person, that they will never be another that will be able to compete with Charles. It's him or nothing.

You skip the Hungarian grand prix, especially as the media releases pictures of you and Charles, going back to the Monaco Grand Prix. Your father thought it best that you stay home, he wasn’t sure how people would react to the relationship news. You spent a few days before your father left for Hungary, arguing with him that it was unfair to bench you, because of the possibility that fans won’t like the news.

Clearly, your father won that argument as you sat at home in Monaco, watching the sessions through the TV, instead of being there in person. What Toto doesn’t tell you, is that he wants you home, so that he can meet with Fred without you getting suspicious.

After the qualifying session, Toto asked Fred, the team principal of Ferrari, to join him for dinner. As the two men met away from the paddock, away from the cameras, from the drivers, from the team. They sat in a private dining room, in an elite restaurant. Only here did Toto feel comfortable asking what he was about to ask.

“What are we doing here Toto?” Fred asks, as he sips the beer he ordered. Fred wouldn’t say it, betraying his French roots, but he always preferred a bottle of beer over a glass of wine.

“Fred, I have a favor to ask,” Toto requests, he ignores his gut feeling telling him that this is wrong, and continues on, “I want you to delay Charles' contract signing.”

“Why would I do that?” Fred asks, delaying a contract signing seems like it’s not a big deal, but there's many implications to what that could mean.

“You would do it, because then I will be in debt to you,” Toto says, he's thought about this, he knows his way through a negotiation.

“Okay,” Fred says, he has a reason to do so, but what is Toto’s reason for asking? “Now why do you need me to do this?”

Toto sighs, “y/n.”

“Your daughter, I saw the news about her Charles,” Fred pauses, taking another sip of the beer, “well actually Charles told me about the relationship back in Miami.”

“Miami?” Toto questions, “she didn’t tell me until after silverstone.”

“Charles said he wanted me to know before the public knew, would like to know what else he said?”

“What?” Toto sighs, once more.

“Charles said he wants to do this right, that he is serious about her,” Fred offers.

“We’ve both heard drivers say one thing and do another,” Toto fixes his posture, sitting up in the chair, “I won’t allow my daughter’s image to be run through by Charles.”

“So you want me to delay a contract signing, to do what? So you can scare Charles into picking a seat over your daughter? And what happens when he picks your daughter over his seat?” Fred sits up in his chair as well, looking Toto square in the eyes.

“If he picks my daughter over his seat, then I know he’s serious about her,” Toto stands upm buttoning his jacket, “but we both know he won’t do that.” Toto sticks out his hand for Fred to shake.

Fred stands to shake Toto’s hand, “this doesn’t mean I agreed to anything.”

“You will agree,” Toto smiles, a little amused at the situation, “we both know me in debt to you is too valuable to pass up.”

Since the news of your relationship has been made public, you and Charles are seen together around the paddock during the Belgian Grand Prix a lot more. Although you guys did try to keep it as professional as possible, there weren't any public displays of affection between the two of you. However, that went straight out the window after the race podium celebration.

Instead of watching the podium you stayed in the garage with your father, since there wasn’t a Mercedes on the podium. As soon as Charles was done with the podium celebration, he ran straight into the Mercedes garage to collect a celebratory kiss from you. His, sweaty, champagne-covered, sticky self, pulling you into a tight hug with a deep kiss. He had one arm wrapped around your waist, while his other hand held onto his trophy. You were taken aback by the initial kiss, but soon you cupped his cheek and held him close.

Charles would’ve kissed you longer, but he could feel the cameras on the two of you. When he finally did pull away, you were a giggling mess that you didn’t even notice the cameras at first. “Let’s go,” Charles whispers to you, “let’s get out of here.”

You wanted desperately to leave right then and there with Charles, “I can’t,” you say. You watch his smile drop just a little, “I have work to finish,” you say while giving the side eye to where your father sat in the Mercedes garage, watching you and Charles. “And you have a press conference.”

“Okay, after that then.” Charles says, kissing you on the cheek this time.

“After that.”

That night, while you and Charles celebrated his podium finish, the picture of you and him making out in the Mercedes garage after his podium celebrations, hit social media. That photo is more talked about than Max’s 8th grand prix win in a row. That photo is in all the group chats around the paddock. That photo makes it to the official formula 1 social media pages. And the biggest take away is your father’s face in the background of the photo. Everytime you look at it, you laugh knowing that your father most likely made that face subconsciously.

Since summer break has begun, you spend more time with Charles than at home with your family. Today, you just so happen to need a few things from your closet, that you stopped in the Monaco home. That is when you could overhear your parents talking in your father’s office.

“We need to be more discreet about this now,” your father says to Mamma.

“Toto, I don’t think this is right. It’s not fair to y/n or Charles,” Susie says. Normally you wouldn’t eavesdrop on your parents, but the mention of you and Charles caught your attention.

“I am trying to protect our daughter,” Toto says, and you can’t help but think. What is your father trying to protect you from?

“This isn’t protecting her, this is your fear about what could happen,” Susie says. You can hear in your mamma voice, she’s getting defensive.

“Like how your fear pulled her from racing,” Toto says in a raised voice. You’re completely confused as to what your father could mean with that statement.

There’s a pause. It goes silent for a second, and you listen closer. “I was saving her life, we weren’t sure what the FIA would do after Jules.” There’s a pain in Susie’s voice.

“Safety measures were put in place,” Toto argues.

“After you pushed back on them.”

“I have changed my position on the halo, you know that,” Toto says. Even though the wood doors separate you from seeing your parents, you can clearly imagine what this fight is looking like.

“After Lewis almost dies!” Mamma never shouts, is your singular thought after hearing that statement. “What if you had gotten your way and the halo was never placed? What if it was our daughter in that car? I pulled her from racing to save her life, because you sure as hell wasn’t going to do it.” Susie pulls open the office door to see you standing on the other side. You watch her face drop from anger to sadness quickly. “Sweetheart…”

“Mamma… you pulled me from racing?” You question as the tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Sweetheart…” Susie repeats, shes at a complete loss for words.

“You told me that I wasn’t picked up for a seat.” you take a breath before you start crying, “was that the truth?”

“Darling,” Toto calls out to you.

“Was it the truth?” You ask again, this time you make the hurt evident in your voice, “you told me a team didn’t want to pick me for F2, was that the truth?”

“You weren’t anybody’s first choice,” Susie pauses, “but you were on the list.” You feel your break, as you start to cry. “We worked a few negotiations to ensure that you didn’t get picked. We worked to pull you from racing.”

You were a hyperventilating mess, you couldn’t stop the tears, the sobs, the heartbreak from happening. “You told me…You told me, if I earned my seat without you or daddy interfering I could keep racing. You promised that you would let me race.”

“We wanted to protect you, we didn’t want what happened to Jules.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snap at Susie, “don’t use what happened to Jules as an excuse.” You walked away, racing up the stairs. Towards your bedroom, you could hear your parents rushed footsteps as they followed after you. You began to shove clothes into a bag, as you tried to violently wipe away the tears.

“Where are you going?” Your father asks in a calm voice.

“I’m gonna stay with Charles for a while.” When you mention Charles, you remembered the beginning of the conversation. You stopped packing your clothes. Slowly you turned to face your parents. “What did you do?”

“Excuse me?” your father questions.

“What did you do to Charles? Mamma said it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, whatever you were doing. What did you do to Charles daddy?” You’re out of breath, you fear whatever your father has to say.

You watch as your father sighs, he hangs his head. “I asked Fred to delay his contract signing. Ferrari wants to keep Charles, they’re going to give him whatever he wants. I asked for Fred to just hold off on signing the contract.”

You scoff at the revelation. “Just long enough to scare Charles into picking a seat over me. This is rich from the both of you.”

“Sweetheart…” Susie calls out to you as she reaches to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap once again. You couldn’t tell if you were really angry or sad or shocked, but you did know you were just hurt. Your parents had taken away your dreams, and they were trying to take away your love. “You took away racing,” you take a breath, you strip away all the excess, you let them hear the hurt in your voice, “I won’t let you take Charles away too.”

When you do make it Charles’ place. When he opens the door for you, he sees you silently crying and shaking. Your voice is hoarse already, that it’s only a whisper when you ask, “can I stay with you for a few days?”

“Of course,” Charles says as he welcomes you inside. When he finally closes the door, you drop your bag to the floor, and just hold onto Charles tightly. He wraps his arms around you, providing you with the comfort you longed for.

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Part II

#formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc #formula 1 au #formula 1 angst #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #scuderia ferrari #f1 ferrari #f1 charles leclerc #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc angst #toto wolff #toto wolff daughter #toto wolff au

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 month

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The Perfect Life || CL16 {4}

Summary: The plan is set and it's time to get things into motion. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm, abusive parents WC: 2k

One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Two Weeks Later

You were barely through the ornate arch that separated the foyer entrance from the dining room when a fist of razor sharp fingernails cut into your upper arm.

“Hi,” you greeted your mother as she dragged you into the room lit by a gilded chandelier. You were late to the regular Friday night dinner but time had slipped away from you at Arthur’s apartment. Charles had picked you up after flying in from Maranello and taken you to Monaco to finalise the plan after officially signing a contract his lawyers had drafted. The risk of exposure was too great to be an employee through his Ferrari team so everything had gone through his personal solicitor.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me you ungrateful little-sweetheart, you didn’t tell me you would be bringing a guest.” Your mother’s eyes widened as Charles stepped in behind you, his palm warming the small of your back. “I’ll have one of the maids set a place for you, Charles.”

You had coached Charles through the cutlery he could be expected to use, even in an informal setting such as a family dinner. The variations of forks would no doubt be a test that your mother would use to judge the latest guest. In return, he had posted cleverly taken photos throughout the week to ‘soft launch’ the relationship.

“Madame Florence told me that you missed your piano session this afternoon,” your mother said sweetly, but her nails dug deeper into your skin.

“That was today? It must have slipped my mind, you know what a ditz I can be.” Your aloof tone only set to anger her more but you knew she wouldn’t lash out while Charles was around. She always had to maintain the perfect image, like how her bruising grip was hidden by the sleeve of your shirt.

“You play piano?” Charles asked as your mother turned on her stiletto heel and took her place beside your father at the head of the table.

“Not by choice,” you muttered.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them,” you mother quoted Shakespear like the actress she had failed to become. “She might not be the first, but my daughter could achieve greatness if she applied herself and actually attended the lessons.”

“That must be the nicest thing you have ever said,” you commented as you took a seat opposite them. Charles pushed your chair in before taking his beside you where Alicia had placed a setting for him, an appetiser already waiting. “Charles is staying over so perhaps I can have some greatness thrust upon me tonight.”

Your mother choked on her negroni and the oyster fork slipped from your father’s hand, clattering to the fine china plate. Even Charles looked a little shocked but he quickly recovered.

“If that is alright with you of course, not the uh thrusting, but staying the night,” he said after clearing his throat.

“This isn’t a hotel,” your father stated. “Or a brothel.”

“Not sure about that since everything around here is completely fucked,” you whispered to Charles and caught the hint of a smile before turning to the head of the table. “Father, Charles is my boyfriend - get used to having him around.”

Charles’ fingers laced with yours and he kissed your knuckles. “At least until you move in with me.”

“Let’s just take a step back,” your father chuckled. “Boyfriend?”

You nodded and watched the amusement fade.

“You are dating the boy you spent weeks, months, crying over?” your mother asked with a laugh.

“Really?” Charles asked behind the napkin that he patted along his clammy upper lip.

“I was an emotional teenager, but I grew out of it - don’t take it personally,” you lied.

The dishes were swiftly taken away and replaced with the main course and Charles frowned when he saw the child size portion on your plate. “We can share,” he offered, thinking that his sudden arrival for dinner meant the kitchen was short of food.

“She’s on a diet,” your mother tutted. “It’s Social Season and we can’t have all those lovely gowns ill fitting.”

You stabbed the salad fork into a sweet cherry tomato and watched the seeds and juice splatter over the lettuce, morbidly imagining it was a certain someone across the table. You didn’t bother to even finish the plate of rabbit food before you excused yourself.

“You can stay,” you said to Charles when he rose to follow. “They’ll let you have dessert.”

“I’d rather your company,” he replied before turning to your parents. “Enjoy your evening.”

You felt his presence following closely up the stairs and you knew he was biting his tongue from the waves of discontent that seemed to physically roll off him. The second floor of the mansion was quiet as you walked the hallway and turned a corner to see Alicia step out of the staff stairwell.

“Rough night,” she said with a sad smile and held out the tray of food Chef Alain had prepared. This time there were two portions of dessert. Her eyes darted to Charles and she started to speak before closing her lips. Finally, she worked up the courage and asked, “Are you alright? I can call Franco.”

You smiled genuinely at her concern and placed a hand on her shoulder to reassure her that Charles was a welcome guest. “I’m fine, thank you, no need for the big guy. But, could you please let him know we’ll be heading out the south entrance tonight?”

Alicia nodded and relaxed slightly. Unable to fight the habit, she bobbed sedately and ducked back into the shadows of the stairwell. Your parents may have acted like the house staff didn’t exist but they were always around, and they always saw what the outside world didn’t. You would have lost your sanity long ago if it weren’t for their help, even if it meant risking their jobs.

Charles took the tray from your hand and you opened the plain white door that looked just like the others down the hall. He remained silent as he cast his eyes around the room that dripped lux from every surface. The plush carpet absorbed his footsteps as he stepped into the sitting room and the sheer curtains wavered in the breeze coming in from the sea beyond the wide balcony. In one adjoining room a large canopy bed spread across a wall decorated with blue and silver hand painted damask designs while an equally large desk sat in another connected by open glass doors.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he placed the tray on the coffee table and continued his quiet judgement walking around the rooms.

“Still not up to your standards?” you asked as you followed him to the bed that he sat comfortably on, toeing his shoes off before kicking them up and reclining back among the pillows.

Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I think I like the dump better, at least it has some personality. You don’t even have any photos on the wall.”

You thought about correcting him again for calling your sanctuary a dump, but gave up on the idea. Instead, you reached under your bed for the duffle bag you kept there and disappeared inside your wardrobe to pack. “You’re in luck, that’s exactly where we are crashing tonight.”

You dumped the bag on the floor in your spacious closet and dropped to your knees before rummaging around the bottom shelves. You pushed aside a box of Prada pumps you hadn’t yet worn and found what you were looking for as a shadow dimmed your light.

“Why aren’t we staying here?”

You looked up to find Charles towering over you and sat back on your heels, pulling the gym gear onto your lap. “It’s Friday, I have a fight.”

You stuffed a sports bra and shorts into the duffle bag before adding a pair of sneakers, knuckle tape and Vaseline in too. Lastly, you grabbed the hoodie Charles had given you and tossed it on top.

“You don’t have to fight anymore,” Charles said, blocking your exit from the small room.

“I’ve never been forced, the whole point is that it is my choice. Now move aside.”

He ignored your request and stayed planted in the doorway as you stepped closer. “Your mother said you cried over me. Why?”

Your back stiffened and you swallowed at the memory. “You’ve seen my family, I had plenty to cry about. Maybe I blamed you one day when she caught me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want, I don’t care.” You tried to duck under his arm and escape but he was quicker and dropped it, catching you around the waist and tugging you against his body. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek and just how strong his body was as his arms tightened their hold.

“I think you’re lying and I want to know why.”

“What good would the truth do?” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes and wondered when he had grown so tall. “Do you enjoy feeling guilty?”

Charles’ eyes bored into yours and you noticed the little crinkles around them as his frustration grew. “Just tell me, please.”

Your resolve broke and you shoved against Charles until you had the space to breathe. “I never got to say goodbye to him.”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “Who, Jules?”

“God, I hated you,” you laughed humorlessly as you sat on the edge of your bed and looked at your hands fidgeting on your lap. “Things were great before you came around, not here, obviously, but with the Bianchi’s. We would go karting on the weekends, Mélanie would let me help her bake. I didn’t know what a home felt like before then.”

The bed dipped as Charles sat beside you and took your hand. It was one thing to act as if there was a relationship but your heart stammered a little when he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“I know now that my father already had plans for Jules before you met him, but that was when I noticed things started to change. Whenever I went to their house he would disappear, then there were no more karting days. Whenever I asked, he was busy karting with you. I thought you stole him from me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“But it made you cry.”

Your shoulders jumped with a clipped laugh and you shook your head. “You know, I never went back to the hospital after that day.”

“What day?” Realisation dawned on his face and his hand slipped out of yours as he covered his mouth.

“I never got to finish the story. I never got to say goodbye,” you whispered as your voice broke and fresh tears burned your eyes. “And that is why I need to fight. There is so much anger inside me that I don’t know what else to do. It’s just sitting here,” you beat your fist against your hallow chest, “burning a fucking hole through me.”

A sob cracked the room as you admitted aloud for the first time something even Arthur didn’t know. You let Charles see just how close to the edge you really were and how little it would take for you to break. Strong arms enveloped you and pulled you onto his lap as you fell apart. You tried desperately to shut yourself off from the emotions but you had let too many through that it was impossible.

“I hate you,” you rasped as you hit his chest. The punches were weak without the space to swing your body behind it, but somehow it served to hurt him more. He knew you were stronger and seeing your feeble attempts crumble cleaved his chest apart more than your words. “I hate you, Charles. I fucking hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered as he held you closer and took each hit he more than deserved. “I hate me too.”

Part Five.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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magics-neptunes-things · 6 months

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Hi guys!

After the last one, I needed another with fluff and easy love, so this just come from my imagination. I hope you will like it ♥

Resume : Motherhood is hard, especially when your better half is in training camp far from you.

TW : Little Angst, but fluff :)

PART 2 IS HERE!

______________________________________________________________

Alexia and you met when she was going through one of the worst moments of her life. It was when the footballer made her ACL. For your part, you had graduated as a physiotherapist a few years ago and were looking for a new challenge. When you heard that FC Barcelona were looking for a new physio, you didn’t hesitate to apply. It was hard, but by some miracle, you got the job. The managers didn’t tell you that the job was for the women’s team, but it suited you even better.

A month after you arrived at your post, Alexia began to follow her treatment after her operation. You’ve been assigned as Miss Putellas' special physiotherapist, probably a bit of a probation. You’ve been warned that she might be difficult to handle, her injury having affected her otherwise than physically.

And it was true, in the first few sessions, she barely spoke. She was polite, said hello, thank you, and goodbye. For your part, you remained calm while being empathetic. As you were told, she seemed even more troubled psychologically than physically and you could feel her pain. So you searched about her favorite songs and you made a playlist for her during your massages or during her exercises.

Over time your relationships relaxed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for the time of day when you would have to take care of Alexia. You obviously noticed her beauty and the aura that reigned around her. A friendship and mutual trust was quickly created between you two and she gradually confided to you. On trivial things at first, before your discussions become deeper.

She told you about her father, her family, her fear of not being able to play again and the difficulties she was experiencing with the Spanish Federation. You were shocked to learn what was happening and immediately felt angry. And the first feeling you had was a vital desire to protect Alexia from all this. And the other girls you’re playing with at FC Barcelona as well of course, since you’re the one who plays nurses on the bench at all their matches. But Alexia was coming first.

The first time Alexia could start running on a machine now, you could have cried of joy and relief. She was recovering well, even faster than the best prognosis. And seeing such a sincere smile come back on her face was something really comforting for you. The embrace you exchanged that day gave you chills you still remember.

The day she returned to the team for her first training on the pitch, you were there too, but in the back. Her friends/teammates welcomed her with big smiles and hugs, but at the end of the training she came to you. She once again took you in her arms and whispered a thank you in your ear. No need for long speeches, you knew perfectly well how much this word meant to her.

While you expected this to signal a new distance between the two of you, Alexia surprised you by asking if you were free the same evening to go for a drink. It surprised you, Alexia having the habit of not changing her schedule meal, back to school or bedtime. But when she stuttered "For like, you know, a d- a date?" you couldn't say no.

The rest is history and here you are years later in an healthy, loving et happy relationship. You even got engaged last Christmas.

Alexia always wanted to start a family and your heart melt every time she was interacting with a baby or child. On your second date, she asked you if you wanted children, testifying to the importance she already attached to a future family life between you two. You answered positively, because yes, you wanted to have children and with Alexia would be amazing.

So, a month ago, you welcomed into your lives Santana Eli Putellas. A perfect photocopy of Alexia, even if you were the one pregnant. Thanks to modern methods, you were able to transfer her egg into your body. It was much easier for Alexia’s career, even though she was more attentive to you than ever.

The same eyes, the same mouth, the same hair, the same face, the same look. Even Eli couldn’t figure out which of the two photos was Alexia and Santana when faced with this plot. It’s almost disturbing, but the idea of having created a second perfection in this world suits you perfectly.

Except that even perfection has its difficulties and you realize it more than ever today. For some reason, Santana hasn’t stopped crying since her afternoon nap. Despite her clean diaper, her full stomach, her usual afternoon stroll or her favorite nursery rhymes, you were unable to calm her down. So much so that you couldn’t even answer Alexia’s messages, who went to training camps for the national team.

Even if this camp is held in Barcelona, the team lives in a hotel for a few days, before flying to Canada for their first match. Your lack of answer probably explains why you find yourself having to answer a call from your fiancée after 9pm. You hesitate before answering, your physical state must be scary and Santana is always sobbing on your shoulder. But knowing Alexia’s protective lioness instinct, you’d rather not worry her any longer.

"Hola mi Amor" you try a smile when a frowning Alexia appears on the screen.

"What happened? Why didn't you answer to my text? I was beginning to believe that something serious had happened to you"

"Don't worry, we are fine"

You were still rocking Santana on your shoulder, putting your phone on the counter of your kitchen. After bathing her, you put on her pajamas in the colors of FC Barcelona and she is currently digesting her second bottle of the evening. Whereas normally she takes only one before falling asleep to wake up at midnight and then around 6 am. This baby is really perfect. Except that today something seems wrong.

"Are you sure? You look exausted mi vida"

The concern on Alexia's face is deep and you don't want to worry her. You don't want her to believe that you can't take care of your daughter for a day either. Alexia only left this morning after all.

"We are fine Ale, I pr-"

"Does the best goddaughter in the world make her Mama miserable?"

Mapi’s face suddenly sticks to Alexia's, certainly so that she can also have a glimpse of Santana. Choosing Mapi as godmother was the best idea, the tattooed one being the most adorable with Santana. A chaotic godmother certainly, but you know perfectly well that she too would be ready to take out her claws to defend Santana if necessary.

"Kind of, but everything is under control" you laugh, before realizing that she wasn't listening to you at all, cooing sweat words to Santana. "Did I suddenly become invisible?"

"Not for me" Alexia answer with tenderness in her voice. "I miss you both of you so much, I don't know how I will survive two weeks so far away"

"You will be perfect, as always mi Amor"

She smiles at you, Mapi having a side conversation with your daughter, and you see the concern coming back.

"Can you promise me that you are fine?"

You bite your lip and sight. It was not fair of her to play the sincerity card. She knows that you can't lie to her, even when you want to make her surprise, you have to ask the help of someone.

"Look, she's just having a bad day that's all. Tomorrow will be better."

Alexia opened her mouth to speak and most certainly contradict you, but noise next to her announces the arrival of other people. You smile when you see Ona and Ingrid appear on the screen, Mapi pulling the sleeve of the Norwegian to almost stick her face to the screen ("Look at her, how is she so cute?").

You greet them friendly and discuss with them a few more moments before feeling that Santana starts to agitate again. Before Alexia can see how bad, you tell them you’re going to put her to bed. After promising Alexia to write to her as soon as Santana sleeps, you hang up and gently lift your daughter to put her face up to yours.

"Now that you’ve heard Mama and your Godmother, maybe we can get some rest yeah?"

After a final diaper check, you enter your daughter’s room and sit on her rocking chair. His blanket between you two, a little melody and a lull, it should go well and quickly.

An hour and a half later, you must realize you’re not. Santana continues to struggle with sleep and has begun to cry again. Seeing her like this ended up making you cry. After walking around your house trying to put her to sleep, you went back to her room. You don’t know what to do anymore.

You were thinking about calling Eli or your mother for help when you hear noise on the ground floor. Which shouldn’t happen, since you’re alone in the house with Santana. You listen despite the cries of your daughter and your hear footsteps, making you shiver. Holding your daughter close to your heart, you rush to the kitchen to grab a knife. Putting Santana safely in her crib might have been smarter, but you can’t bring yourself to leave her alone while a danger lurks in the house. The baby stopped crying, like if she understood that something bad is happening.

The noises of footsteps approach the kitchen and panic fades to give way to a cold determination. You have to protect your daughter no matter what. Sticking your back in the fridge, you raise the knife you hold in your hand, ready to hit the figure that enters the room. But...

"Wow! It’s me Baby! It’s me!"

With both hands in the air, Alexia looks at you with wide eyes less than a meter from you.

"Alexia? Wha- what are you doing here?"

"You weren't answering my text again and I... Can you put this knife down please?"

"Oh... Yes, sorry."

You were shaking. The sound of metal that the knife makes when you put it on the marble of the worktop resonates in the room.

"I was too concerned to leave you both alone."

Alexia confesses with almost shyness, certainly fearing that you would take this information badly. You could have, a few hours before. Exhausted from this day, you carefully avoid your girlfriend’s gaze.

"I’m so sorry I scared you. Can I have her?"

Santana started to squirm in your arms and cry again and you gently reach her to Alexia. With a natural ability, the blonde forms a small nest with her arms to accommodate the little body of your daughter. She calms down almost instantly and only then do you realize you have tears in your eyes. After admiring Santana for a few moments, Alexia looks up at you and notices it too.

"Come here" she says, extending her free arm to you.

You cuddle against her, hiding your face in her neck. Her arm squeeze you thigh against her. Her smell helps you to relax and you mumble against her skin.

"I don’t understand what I did wrong today"

"Probably nothing mi Vida. Just like you said, she's just having a bad day. Let me take care of her and go take a hot shower and put on comfortable pajamas, alright?"

You hesitate for a few moments, but Alexia kisses you tenderly before gently pushing you towards your bathroom. You end up obeying, enjoying feeling your muscles relax under the hot water. When you get out, the condensation masked the mirror above the sink. After putting on Alexia’s shorts and t-shirt, you go looking for her in the calm of your home.

She delicately closes the door of Santana’s room when you appear in the corridor.

"Is she asleep?" you ask, incredulous.

Alexia answers with a simple smile and a nod, before taking you into the living room.

"How did you do it?"

"As usual"

Alexia shrugs while smiling and you sighs. That’s what you did, but you are still convinced that Santana simply miss Alexia. You’d rather not say it out loud, though, fearing it would prevent Alexia from focusing on her professional obligations.

"When do you have to go back?"

You try not to pout by asking her the question. It was the deal anyway, you knew very well what could happen when you decided to have a child.

"Not tonight, I informed the coach. I have to be in training tomorrow morning anyway."

The information makes you much too happy, you who promised not to prevent Alexia from following her professional ambitions. But you cannot hide your smile and you stick against her again, in search of affection and tenderness. Accepting your request, Alexia tightens her two arms around you, allowing you to feel perfectly safe.

You stay here for a while, simply taking advantage of the other’s presence. Alexia’s hands play with the tip of your hair while yours fondle her lower back tenderly.

"Did you eat?" you ask her after a few moments.

"No. What about you?"

You pout and Alexia doesn’t need any other words to answer. You just haven’t had time to swallow anything since your breakfast shared with the pretty blonde.

"Let me cook you something. It’s your turn to go put on your pajamas"

You let go of her arms and put a tender kiss on her lips, happy to have her with you when it was absolutely not planned. A few minutes later, you find yourself cooking a fideua, Alexia’s favorite.

Lost in your thoughts, still exhausted from this day, you don't hear Alexia’s steps coming in your direction. You’re too tired to jump when you feel her arms go around your waist, her lips kiss behind your ear making you smile.

"It smells very good mi Vida"

"That’s good because it’s ready"

You tiptoed to grab two plates, paying particular attention not to make too much noise to avoid waking Santana.

"Why don’t we sit on the couch and watch the television?"

Alexia’s proposal surprises you, but you willingly accept. You sit on the couch, letting Alexia settle against you this time. After all, she too is probably tired from her training. Seeing her eat your dish with enthusiasm makes you happy and you find yourself admiring it rather than feeding yourself.

"You're starring"

Alexia smiles and glances at you, making you smile back.

"Perhaps, but it's certainly by admiring you as soon as I have the opportunity that I was able to clone you" you joke softly.

Alexia laughs and puts her plate and cutlery on the coffee table, as you did a few minutes before her. She turns around abruptly before throwing herself into your arms, making you fall over on the couch. Seeing her so spontaneous with you while she tends to constantly master her image makes you melt. And when she puts dozens of kisses all over your face, you can’t help but giggle.

"I guess today’s not the day to tell you I want a big family?"

Her mischievous smile makes you roll your eyes.

"We’ll talk about it in like two years, if you don’t mind."

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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mysumeow · 1 month

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──Trouble sleeping

WARNINGS ❪ Afab body, reader is referred to with you/your. YANDERE Lyney. Very mild angst. Unrealistic hypnosis, dub-con, piv unprotected sex. Not proofread. SUMMARY ❪ You have trouble sleeping, and Lyney suggests hypnosis therapy to solve it. Lyney is, however, dishonest with how he applies said hypnosis. WORD COUNT ❪ 873 A/N ❪ I remembered I had this smut idea pending since last year i think? ok here it is. ok bye im hungry

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . MASTERLIST

You approached the great magician Lyney with a problem: you were having trouble sleeping.

Not really expecting anything out of your conversation, as you were seeking mere emotional support, Lyney confessed that he had some dexterity in the art of hypnosis and that it wouldn’t hurt to try.

It was a success, seeing as you had fallen asleep in the first five minutes of the session, when on average, it would’ve taken you way longer. Unbeknownst to you, in the throes of sleep, he had whispered selfish suggestions into your subconscious.

... Had he known it was going to be this easy, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

He’s underserving of your love; he was aware. The moment you two met, he was unable to let go of you in all aspects. He looked forward to seeing you at his presentations, at the celebratory dinners after an unrivaled performance, and to having you visit him backstage before a show.

To take you home and have you for the rest of the night.

Perhaps he asked for too much. He thought there was a possibility of the universe knowing he didn’t deserve you, and that’s why things didn’t turn out as he daydreamed they would, without having to resort to this deceitful method...

The feeling of your heaving chest against his and your arms tightening around his shoulders as you rode him pulled him out of his mind, reminding him that he should enjoy this precious moment with you.

Lyney’s hold on your hips became tighter, taking the reigns on the pace again, canting his hips upwards to meet your body at an unforgiving pace. He sucked marks onto your neck.

Greed consumed his judgment, and he bit down with unprecedented force.

Your pained whine didn’t deter him from sucking more hickeys on your unprofaned skin. He needed this. Everyone has to know you’re his.

“Ow, Lyney…” You cried again, hoping that would send him the message to be gentler.

His thrusting ceased, and he put some space between your bodies, but not by much. It was only to take in the sight of the teeth shaped dents on your flesh, along with the reddish marks scattered in the expanse of your shoulders.

Lyney wasn’t a rough lover. He’s got enough introspection to know that.

Your existence, from day one, made him discover a new train of thoughts he was never aware that he could have: the cravings of roughing up in the most pleasurable of ways. Often, Lyney would fantasize about littering your body with his kisses and bites, seizing your arms, and securing you against his frame—not leaving a single inch of space between one another.

Your lovestruck visage seemed to lure him deeper into degeneracy, after all, not only were your eyes pleading for more, but your body as well. Lyney swallowed hard, calming himself down before he cummed too fast with how your pussy tensed around him.

“F-Fuck, Lyney— You feel so good,” You whined, locking your legs around him and using the leverage to make him thrust into you. “Why did you stop? Hurry up, please. Fuck your cum into me,”

Your words weren’t helping his case. Lyney panted against your neck, content with merely kissing and kneading your tits with his hands, his fingers pinching your nipples and making you tremble from lust.

The magician longed for this moment to never end, for the morning to never come, when the hypnosis would end for that day. Because you’ll forget everything that happened prior to the hypnosis, and you’ll want to come back to him every day so he can help you. Lyney convinced himself that he could allow himself to be selfish for once in his life.

“What a naughty mouth for such a lovely face,” He tutted before nipping your bottom lip. Whichever retort you had died in your throat when Lyney’s tongue slipped into your mouth, playing with yours without permitting a single second for you to collect your thoughts. “But who am I to deny you when you keep pulling me into you, as if not wanting to let go…”

With those words, he resumed his unyielding thrusts, and the lascivious noise of the bed creaking from the movements filled the room. Lyney hugged the leg you proceeded to rest on his shoulder, your other leg quivering from the onslaught of pleasure behind him. The position made it easier for him to stuff you with his dick; it was too much, and you lost yourself in the delightful sensations. Lyney was lucid enough to understand you were about to give out, so his hand darted to hold yours, squeezing it to keep you grounded.

Amidst the heartfelt intertwinement, a broken whine of his name escaped your lips when you orgasmed. Lyney doubled over at the feeling of your drenched cunt squeezing him so deliciously, he didn’t stand a chance and cummed almost right after you.

As he caught his breath, he helped you lower your leg back in its place and pressed his lips to yours, his hand caressing the side of your face.

#genshin smut #lyney x reader #lyney smut #cw dubcon

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soov-archived · 1 year

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M𝗶LK & C𝗢𝗢K𝗶𝗘S! ── DOMESTiC ACTS.

✶ : 1.1k, txt choi line & gn!reader, fluff, humor (?), a bit of angst in beomgyu’s, estabilished relationship. ⚠ : mentions of food, lowercase intended, mentions of kissing, pet names, 1 small curse. no au set though idol!soobin is slightly implied. ੭ : bunny soob enthusiast right here Hello

CHOi YEONJUN⠀𑁨⠀최연준

yeonjun does everything he can to keep you glued to his skin whenever you two are at home, no matter what

but sleeping next to him is the worst thing EVER

he clings to your waist and tangles your legs together so you can't escape from his deathly grip

when you wake up trying to push his weight from you, jun yawns with a quick stretch

as soon as your eyes meet, his own crinkle with a lazy beam

“hi, babe ^_^” he mumbles giddily, hands reaching up for your cheeks and lips pressed flush to your face

even though he's not the best cook, he loves to try new recipes when you're craving a specific thing for lunch

he also adores playing old jazz songs on his portable radio while doing so

and if you approach him within a radius of 3 meters, jun will find a way to make you dance with him

soon, what was supposed to be a cooking session of his turns into your personal dance class

his hands are normally laced to yours when you're having online classes, cheek on your lap while the teacher keeps rambling

fun fact but he likes your hands a lot, especially tracing the lines on your palms

sometimes you'll even catch him writing his name on them with his fingers, the tongue poking out deceiving him

one of his favorite things to do with you is his skincare routine, followed by multiple rounds of board games and snacks

he's extremely careful with your skin, you won't apply any product yourself if he's there to help you

“jun, y'know i can put on the mask myself, right?”

“but why would you when i can do it for you instead?” cue the cockiest eyebrow raise and smirk to ever exist (it soon morphs into his gentle smile, just wait for a bit)

the night ends with an intense game of monopoly and two bowls of half-burnt popcorn next to both of you

(he doesn't want a single phone near you during your quality time!!!!!!)

you're definitely cheating and yeonjun threw some tantrums because of it, but halfway through the game he gives up on trying to make you play fair

this man is so whipped he starts staring at your face with his chin resting on his propped-up knee

when you take note of this BOOM your downfall came

he takes advantage of your flustered state because of his intense, loving gaze, and manages to steal your money without you seeing it

yeonjun will most likely confess it later… but only if you confess that you also cheated

⠀ ⠀

CHOi SOOBiN⠀𑁨⠀최수빈

listen, soobin is a stress baker

one moment he's at the highest point of his life, the next he's brutally mixing a bunch of nuts into a dough while cursing his members

but since you came into his life, everything changed

not really everything, but you get the drill

now, what happens is either 1: you're forced by his sparkly eyes and pout (a grown man pouting........) to bake with him OR

2: you wake up every sunday to the aroma of freshly baked bread, fruit cakes, and biscuits

soobin has this baby pink waist apron with pearls embroidered on it, lace ribbons around, and a rabbit face in the middle

he got it from taehyun (who made it himself) right after they moved in together

teen soob was fighting for his life back then, thinking it was the most humiliating thing ever, and that taehyun had just squashed his pride

but now he uses it proudly, and it's his favorite apron to use with his white sweater, sleeves rolled up and cheeks caked with flour did you get it

he loooves when you compliment his traditional baking outfit, replying to it with an awkward grin

ties your shoelaces when you're leaving the house and unties them when you get back

and then proceeds to keep muttering the “bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by a tree” rhyme under his breath without even noticing it <’3

this man is also a compulsive buyer and he WILL spend all his money on matching stuff for you, him, and odi

every once in a while he drops an amazon box on your bed, saying “open it.”

you comply worriedly, and there's a 98% of chance that there are two pjs with a strawberry print, and a mini strawberry hat for odi

he forces you to use it

and odi too

anime nights with him are a must!!! he lets you pick any show that you want to watch, cuddling you & stealing shy kisses throughout it

soob also asks you to help him with his japanese, even if you're not fluent in it

he grabs his jpn notebook and flashcards, asking you to read what's written in it whilst he translates it into his desired language

you get paid back with more kisses and snuggles 🫡 (and baked goods too)

⠀ ⠀

CHOi BEOMGYU⠀𑁨⠀최범규

if you thought yeonjun was bad for all the clingy stuff, beomgyu is ten times worse

constant forehead pecks, back hugs, and cheek bites are common in your relationship

such a gentle, but playful lover

lives for late-night walks with you, fingers interlocked, nonsense thrown in the air

if the weather gets chilly and you forget to grab your coat, he'll laugh so hard at your freezing form

“how could you forget your coat, seriously!” cackles from beomgyu. pause. oh god, he's taking off his hoodie. oh god, he's putting it in your hands… “i don't want you to catch a cold.”

can you guys hear me screaming!!!!!!!!!!!!

will whine sometimes, begging for a hug in the middle of the empty street because he's only wearing a t-shirt and sweats now

the passerby stray dog side eyes him

buries his cold nose on your neck and huffs when you tease him for “forgetting his hoodie at home”

gyu has this one knack for bumping his hip with yours whenever you're brushing your teeth together

awaits for your giggles with expectant eyes, them turning into crescents when you find his beam covered by foam stupidly funny

he's so awful at getting groceries by himself that he needs you on facetime with him every time so he won't get only ramyeon for all the meals

“is this the right brand of apples you always get, love?”

“what the hell do you mean by ‘brand’, beomgyu?????”

“OH my bad, i meant apple breed.”

professional clothes stealer™

has this weekly battle with you where one has to create an outfit with the other's clothes and use it for a whole day

somehow manages to pull off your clothes? he even suggests a wardrobe switch after people start complimenting him

serenades you when you're feeling down :(

his love language is already words of affirmation — and he shows it all the time — but especially when you're sad

you're curled up in your covers and he's playing your favorite love song in his guitar, switching any pet names in it to your name

it pains beomgyu a lot seeing you in such a state, so he offers any sort of comfort he can if it means that he'll see his favorite smile once again

⠀ ⠀ © soov, 2O23.

#𔒌 ─ cupid’s arrow.#txt fluff #txt x reader #txt angst #txt soft hours #txt headcanons #txt scenarios #tomorrow by together #tomorrow by together x reader #tomorrow x together #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fluff #soobin x reader #soobin fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #choi line x reader #choi line

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sonder-paradise · 2 years

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐈𝐈— 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭

◊ ft. diluc, childe, kaeya, zhongli, gn!reader

◊ genre. angst to fluff?

◊ cw. stabby stabs and brief descriptions of blood

— 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐫

he had warned you not to make trouble. sure, the warning in of itself was just a minor precaution that he had spat out as the two of you left. but as diluc watches the blood-splattered blade grind into your stomach, his heart lurches. it should have just been another routine visit with a few abyss mages. so why were you staring at him with those horrified eyes?

your name is a whisper on his lips as he stumbles back onto his feet. in a flash the enemy evaporates into that familiar black and red mist. diluc rushes to your side; his widened eyes scan your wound, desperately trying to apply pressure while your blood stains his hands.

"why... why did you do that?!" he exclaims, "you should have just let me take the hit!" you smile weakly. the sort of smile that has him reeling and disgusted with himself. "i wanted to protect you. besides," you cough, "I'll be fine. you can't kill me that easily."

diluc holds you to his chest, burying his face in your shoulder. "still, please don't scare me like that. i couldn't bare to lose you too." you can feel his worry in the way his heart pounds against your own chest and his eyes screw tight as he if when he opens them you'll be gone.

— 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

a confident grin befalls childe as you watch him from the corner of your eye. a peaceful day in the mountains of liyue have the two of you wrapping up a prolonged training session. perhaps he should have paid more attention to what was around but before he knows it, your gut-wrenching shout fills his ears.

childe stumbles, unsure of the events that had just transpired. he was certain you had shoved him just as he had called your name. but he blinked in a mute horror upon spotting your limp body slumped against the trunk of a tree. the monstrous geovishap growls ferociously at you and childe can’t help but let that horror grow into a vile rage.

the next thing you know, you’re staring at the most grief-stricken childe you’ve ever witnessed. his eyes are murky and tired. his hand clutches yours with such an intensity that you find it nearly hard enough to break. and for a second, childe appears to be at a loss for words. “i… i patched you back up,” he says slowly, “you should be… better now.” the way he sounds make it seem as if he’s trying to convince himself at this point.

“what’s wrong?” you murmur, softly squeezing his hand in yours. he just seems lost, unsure whether or not to scold you for what you did or thank you. “just… please don’t do that again,” he finally says, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

— 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡

“kaeya!” you watch your lover gather his thoughts. you never would have thought a quick, routine scouting of the nearby mountainous forests would have resulted in an argument. but here the two of you were, struggling to explain to the other your innermost thoughts. the argument had been a petty one. just something kaeya wished to warn you about.

honestly, he was just looking out for you. it wasn’t often he got angered at you either. but something about the evening swayed his emotions when it came to you. upon hearing his name he frowns, turning back to hear you out at the very least. yet, as he does so the disgusting scent of blood snatches his senses.

kaeya feels the wet substance hit his cheek as you shove him aside. the ruin guard leaps, shadowing the land of his descent. but in the moment, kaeya’s quick to summon the strength to look back at your wounded body limp in his arms. your blood stains his skin and his lungs feel as though about to collapse.

when your eyes open, you're in a warm bed and at the end of it is kaeya. his eyes look tired. but a breath of relief flows back into them when he notices you are awake. "oh thank god," he whispers, kissing you fervently. "i'm sorry. i'm so sorry." he repeats the words over and over until you finally hush him back into that loving embrace he adores.

— 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

it's a flash of heartbreaking thunder that crashes down onto the man. one second you were assisting him with a simple task and suddenly he's gripping onto your bleeding wound, eyes wavering as he looks down at you. he feels frozen at his feet when you swallow harshly. blood spilling from the ghastly cut on your abdomen.

his shield should have protected you. you were not supposed to be his. his mouth opens and shuts, trying to comprehend the situation. he hasn't truly felt hopeless since the archon wars when she died. and now you may suffer the same fate because of his negligence.

"zhongli!" you cry, snapping him out of that horrified trance, "it's gonna be okay. i'm still here." it's his turn to swallow back the bile in the back of his throat and nod slowly. he can change your fate this time. "just hold on, my love," he says softly, wrapping your wound with a cloth.

"i trust you," you murmur. for a moment he almost wishes you didn't as he feels his heart sink even further. "right. just... please don't close your eyes," he quietly begs. you're in his arms in a second, determined to pay attention to his words as he heads towards the abandoned camp he noticed earlier. you can feel his hands tremble; if not from fear then from the anger towards himself.

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo @planetxiao @nonsense-corner @ireallylikehamsters @eccedentesiast-sapphic @rebeccka @the-lost-anime-dad @lettucecabbage-kun @irethepotato

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queers-gambit · 1 month

Text

Alpine

prompt: in an effort to help your boyfriend with his trauma, you rescue a furry feline together - a white cat named, Alpine - who rescues you both in return.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 6.9k+

note: been seeing a lot of Alpine recently and got inspired.

second note: no, it's not comic / canon compliant so just have fun. author did some research but there's not a LOT written / known about Alpine, so, again, just have fun!

warnings: post Endgame, pre tfaws; cursing, Lord's name in vain, small angst, mostly hurt and comfort, Nick Fury calling reader a bitch playfully, Bucky's trauma responses, small spoilers, Dr. Raynor / therapy.

other works with Widow!reader and Bucky NOT necessary to read

read here: Damage Done

"Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"Disappointed? Annoyed? Frustrated?"

"No, doll."

"Then why won't you talk to me!?"

"Nothing to say."

You wiped a hand down your face, lifting it only to pinch the bridge of your nose. Your head shook to shake away your thoughts, sniffling emotion, sighing when you dropped your hand to slap against your thigh. "I'm really trying here, Bucky, I swear to you, I am. But I can't help if you don't talk to me," you softened your voice, beginning to understand this was a losing battle.

"I never said I needed help."

"You never have to ask me for help, Bucky, I just give it because I want to! Because I love you! That's part of being in a relationship!"

"Maybe I don't want it!" Your boyfriend snapped, rounding on you with unfiltered emotion in his eyes. The horrors swam in his baby blues, vivid memories he was unable to escape haunting him, terrorizing him; creating a shell of a man who could no longer hide his avid pain. "Did you ever think about that? Ever consider that I don't want your help because I don't need it?"

"Everyone needs help sometimes, Buck."

"No, not everyone - I'm not one of your pet projects, you don't get to treat me like a broken thing that needs fixed! I certainly don't need your pity - not yours."

"I don't pity you! Fuck's sake, Bucky, I love you and want to see you heal. I know you better than anyone - "

"You don't," he sneered, cutting you off. "You don't know me, not really, not as well as Steve - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Steve isn't here! He's not coming back!" You snapped, instantly regretting it when Bucky's eyes coated with glassy emotion he fought vehemently to keep down. "I-I'm sorry, that was - that was really mean of me and totally out of line," you apologized, both sighing deeply. "All right, look, let's just talk this out, please."

"There's nothing to say."

Your hip cocked, arms crossing, "She called me, you know."

"Who?"

"Dr. Raynor."

"Fuck's sake," he growled. "Why would she do that?"

"Maybe because today's session was, apparently, supposed to be a couples session. She thought I was refusing, called to say I was impeding on your progress and if I want to help you, I'd have to show up to your appointments. Which is really funny because you never told me about today, so I had no idea what the hell she was talking about - but that didn't stop her from tearing me a new asshole!"

He frowned, avoiding your eyes. "I didn't need a couples session. Not today, I just - I wanted today to focus on other shit."

"And I can respect that, but you're not doing yourself any favors by hiding shit from me. To get the best results from therapy, you have to actually do the work, and not just do what Dr. Raynor says, but actually listen to her advice - "

"I don't need you on my back about this, Raynor does that enough for you both," Bucky growled. "I do the fucking work - I'm the one in that room, I'm the one applying silly little rules to my life - "

"Obviously not if you didn't even tell me Raynor requested my attendance! You should've told me, and then you should've said you weren't ready! I would've respected that, but I can't do a Goddamn thing if you don't talk to me!"

His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, skin twitching and distinct muscles tightening. "Like I said, there's nothing to talk about," he practically spat, shaking his head at you before grabbing his sneakers from the closet.

You didn't mean to sound harsh, but demanded, "Where are you going? We're in the middle of a conversation."

"No, we're not, 'cause I'm ending it," he scoffed, sitting on the corner of your shared mattress, exchanged his shoes. "And I'm going for a run, need to clear my head."

You shook your head before leaving the bedroom, "Absolutely unbelievable."

Bucky left your shared apartment a few minutes later, somewhere you've only lived five months - the time it's been since Tony Stark, Iron Man, snapped the other half of living beings back into existence. He lost his life in return, the ultimate sacrifice, but he managed to reverse the damage Thanos created five years prior. Five months of living in this apartment without a lick of warmth, personal touch, or real sentiment; it being dreary, dark, and mostly empty. Hell, Bucky didn't even feel comfortable in bed, so he camped in the barren living room, giving visual to the way your relationship was beginning to fray, unravel, crack.

He didn't want anything personal in your apartment - thinking it was ridiculous to settle down after all you two have endured, witnessed, and fought for. You agreed to keep things at the bare minimum, only stocking what was necessary, knowing this was part of his healing process and didn't want to drum-up further anxiety. It made everything impersonal, boring, bland, and down right depressing - but it was a small accommodation you could provide your lover.

You hated the distance. Hated how alone Bucky felt after Steve. Hated how reclusive he became, the anger he projected. Hated how no matter what you did, you weren't enough - not this time. For years, you've loved him despite his flaws, his brainwashing, his trauma responses, but whatever he was enduring now was something you weren't equipped to handle. Didn't mean you weren't willing to try, but Bucky was the one pushing you away; thinking his demons were his sole responsibility, never letting you be the pillar that helped support him. God, you hated the distance.

You left the apartment, too. Nick Fury had employed you for creative, solo, high profile missions; wanting to utilize your Widow training, especially now that Natasha Romanoff was deceased. And you wanna know what? Bucky hadn't even asked about her, never tried to offer comfort, only quietly attending the funeral service you hosted with the remaining Avengers to give her a proper sendoff - despite there being no body. Bucky knew you and Nat were as thick as thieves, family without blood, two lost souls who leaned on each other in trying times; bonded by trauma, encouraged by resounding bravery, disciplined by strength. The fact that your boyfriend never even checked in with you after Nat's passing obviously hurt your feelings but you remained silent.

Again, to avoid generating more anxiety for Bucky.

You met the one-eyed man at a local, bustling coffee shop, finding the sight of the hardened, burly man eating a scone amusing. "Got you one of these," he nudged a dessert plate to your side of the table when you sat down with your desired coffee, "know you like 'em."

"Blueberries are my favorite," you half-smirked, regarding the moist muffin and sighing sadly. "All right, sir, what's on the docket?"

He stared at you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before leaning back in his chair. "The fuck's going on with you?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You look different today."

"Mh," you nodded, joking, "got a hair cut."

"No, it's your aura. Something bothering you, kid?"

"You do realize I'm a fully grown adult, right?"

Nick shrugged, "I don't see age."

"You don't - nobody sees age, Nick, Jesus."

He took a sip of his green tea. "There's still something bothering you. Not sure if you should go on this mission if you're wound tight."

"I'm just dealing with shit at home."

"Oh, right, the cyborg. How is the hundred year old psycho?"

"You you want me to stab out your other eye? 'Cause I fucking will," you threatened with a fork clenched in your grasp, perking your brows up your forehead. "Say that shit again, see what the fuck I do, Nick, I absolutely dare you."

He chuckled, hands held in defense, "Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for. What's wrong with Sergeant Barnes?"

You shrugged, "It's complicated."

"Bitch, aliens opening a wormhole in space and time to invade Earth is complicated - relationships aren't. Try me."

After an amused chuckle, you told him, "He's struggling right now. You know? After everything, it's been a lot for him and now that things are relatively back to normal, he's having a hard time trying to assimilate himself back into the populace. You know, learning to live in this day and age - a man out of time, outside his comfort zone, forced to adjust himself after living as a weapon of mass destruction for so long. Add in the fact that his best friend passed, marking another forceful adjustment he's unprepared for..."

"Hm," Nick nodded, "heard he's got a full pardon."

"He does."

"Which has a contingency he's gotta go to therapy, right? Part of rejoining society?"

You nodded, "Right, again."

"So he's in therapy and still struggling?"

"It's not like there's an on-off switch, Nick, therapy takes time and dedication. I just don't think he feels at peace, calm, in control - like he deserves any of this; the pardon especially. Think the stress, fear, and confusion is eating at him."

"Well, he's got you."

"I'm not his mother."

"No, you're his girlfriend, and it's a girlfriend's responsibility to support him, ain't it? Help him through this?"

"I can only do so much, Nick," you scoffed, "I'm just one person and he's a stubborn jackass - he just pushes me away. I'm sure I don't help the situation by accepting your contracts."

Fury considered your words for a long moment, then asked, "You said he's lonely?"

"Wouldn't you? Given his situation? He won't say, but I know losing Steve caused a part of him die."

Nick shrugged, "So get him a dog."

You never wouldn't guessed those words could ever pass Nick Fury's lips, head cocking, eyes narrowing, arms crossed over your chest. "I'm sorry, do what now?"

"It's obvious, ain't it? Dude needs company when you're gone, a sense of purpose, to feel like there was something - or someone - depending on him. Might help whatever limbo he's lingering in."

"A dog?"

"A dog. He can take it for walks or whatever."

You considered his recommendation, asking again, "A dog?"

"Do we need to get your hearing checked again? You lose the last functionality of your ears? Yes, a dog."

"I don't know..."

"It's just a suggestion, might promote his peace, help him process grief and guilt. Telling you, a dog would do him good. Now," he took another sip of tea, "onto business."

"You give me whiplash," you chuckled. "What's this job?"

"Simple and easy," he pulled up a tablet from the chair beside him, tapping it three times and handing it to you.

"None of your jobs are simple or easy, Nicky-Nick."

"I told you, don't call me that. Look, I just need you in London to investigate a string of potential terrorist activity. Just some recon, you won't be gone more than a few days - if you behave and stay on task."

You scanned the document, "When do I ever do that?" He chuckled briefly, you wondering, "Flagsmashers? Jesus, what a name. C'mon, you can't be serious. These guys are just radicals - you know, trying to vouch for those displaced after the Blip. It's actually kinda endearing, I mean, they're trying to give a microphone to those without a voice."

"They're escalating - too quickly," Fury informed. "They haven't raised any international flags yet, but something ain't right about them. I just need you as eyes and ears, maybe report if you think they're worth the worry."

Little did you know, in only about a month, you would join forces with Bucky and Sam Wilson - The Falcon - to dismantle the organization.

"When do I leave?"

"Tuesday would be ideal. But I can push it to Friday if you wanna go get that dog."

Your laughter was endearing, handing the tablet back over.

Bucky liked holding hands, though, he often wouldn't ever voice it. It made him feel tethered, anchored to reality; instilling a sense of pride to have such a gorgeous lady - such as yourself - at his side. However, the part he liked most, was being reminded he wasn't alone; even when on crowded, overpopulated streets, he didn't have to be afraid because with his hand in yours, he looked just like everyone else. You protected him even without intending to or without even knowing what you were doing.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he sighed, people on the street sidestepping and avoiding running into you two. "I was upset, stressed out, you know how I get after seeing Raynor."

"It's okay, baby," you assured, ever the patient, loyal, and supportive girlfriend he needed. "I'm not holding it against you, but just promise me, when you're ready, you'll tell me."

He nodded, "I will - I mean, I promise." You hummed and pet his bicep with your other hand, giving his arm a hug. "Now are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise."

He was ready to reply when a small commotion echoed from the alley you were passing, Bucky coming to a jarring halt that yanked on your arm, swinging you around. You were ready to ask what was happening when you clocked one of Bucky's "friends", an older man named Yori Nakajima, arguing with one of his neighbors.

"Hey, hey, Yori," Bucky intervened, you watching from the mouth of the alley, "woah, hey, what's going on?"

You couldn't hear whatever Yori was saying, but Bucky turned to the other man and growled something at him that made the neighbor scurry off. He glared at you, lip curled in a sneer, disappearing amongst patrons of the crowded sidewalk. You frowned and approached Yori and Bucky, your boyfriend still trying to calm his friend - well, 'friend' was a very generous term. See, Yori was the father of a young man that died by the hand of the Winter Soldier, being a name on Bucky's list he needed to make amends with.

However, when you took your place beside Bucky, Yori was waving you both off and shuffling down the alley, towards one of his apartment building's doors. "What was that all about?" You asked softly, taking note of the disgruntled expression your boyfriend usually wore these days.

"Just," he sighed, shaking his head, "Yori's upset with some of his neighbors - thinks they're encroaching on being disrespectful."

"When doesn't he?" Bucky sighed, you wondering softly, "You think you're ever gonna feel ready to tell him?"

"I'm working on it," he sighed sadly. "All right, c'mon - "

You both paused with furrowed brows when there came a series of shrill meows from under a couple of soggy, cardboard boxes beside a dumpster. "Did you hear that?" You asked.

"Uh-huh."

Another elongated meow was heard, Bucky curiously approach the discarded trash coated in sewage sludge. He slowly squatted, you approaching his shoulder when another meow cried out. Now, normally, you'd never investigate animal noises out of fear they were feral and carrying disease, but something just felt sad about what you heard - apparently, to Bucky, too. Gingerly, he reached out and lifted a piece of dripping cardboard, seeing a bundle moving under the next piece. He moved that one, too.

"Oh, my God!" You cooed when a tiny kitten was revealed. White fur was stained with dirt, sludge, and other nasty juices; nose pink, eyes a piercing, clear blue with brownish tear stains rimming them. The kitten mewed in greeting, pacing a tight circle before trying to back up in the brick wall; hunching its back and hissing slightly when you lowered yourself into a squat beside Bucky. "Baby, it's all alone, should we help?" You pouted.

"I don't think it wants our help, doll," he sighed. "It looks scared of us. Bet the mother's around somewhere, be a shame to move it if she's coming back."

"It looks too skinny, maybe it's alone?"

"Or maybe it's not," Buck countered. "C'mon, sugar, we can't take it."

After a bit of back and forth, you finally relented and had to walk away. You frowned for at least two blocks, but upon your halt at a crosswalk, you were greeted by another shrieking meow. Whipping around, you and Buck both looked down to discover the wee little kitten had followed you and was practically yelling for your attention. You grinned.

"Well, now we really have to help it," you told Bucky.

"How?"

"We take it to a shelter," you answered, shrugging, "good thing I know where one is."

"What's it doing?" Bucky asked nervously, the kitten dancing around your legs; brushing up against you both, meowing the whole time.

"I think she wants you to pick her up," you smirked.

He sighed and stooped to scoop the little creature in hand, regarding it carefully; weighing it, checking paws and other vulnerable spots. Bucky muttered, "All right, yeah, fine, let's take him to a shelter. Little beast needs some food it feels like, definitely a flea bath and some fresh water."

"You big softie."

"Lead the way to the shelter, princess, c'mon," he ignored your jab, tucking the kitten into his chest protectively. "He feels fragile," Bucky worried, "maybe you should carry him, I might crush him."

"You've got the little babe, Buck," you assured, "you're not gonna hurt him - I mean, if it's even a him."

"By the attitude, could be a girl," he joked, making your heart lighten. He'd been in such a funk that you missed his teasing, soft words; the little jokes he cracked, his smile - God, you missed seeing his smile. During your time on the run after DC, while seeking refuge in Bucharest for a couple years, you grew accustomed to seeing his radiant smile; remembering how easily he offered it when just the two of you. For a moment, you considered how your relationship was no longer just you and Bucky - but his trauma, too.

Arriving at the shelter, it was like an assault on the senses. Dogs were heard barking from the kennels, the pungent smell of urine and wood chips smacking you in the face, and a sort of humidity lingering in the air - a sharp contrast to the crisp outside.

"Hi," you greeted the receptionist, offering a kind smile.

"Hi, there. How can I help you two?" The man with long hair asked.

"Well, uh, two things," you explained, "one: we'd like to tour your kennels, we're interested in adopting a dog - "

"We are?" Bucky gaped.

" - and two: we found this little fella in an alley," you pointed to the kitten curled protectively against Bucky's warmth. "We wanted to make sure he was okay, maybe leave him here for adoption?"

"Oh," Man Bun blinked, regarding both Bucky and the kitten, "wow, uh, yeah, that's really nice of you guys, rescuing the little guy. You know, since everyone came back few months ago, there's be an influx of strays. A lot of people gave up their animals when their loved ones came back."

"Well, that's super fucked up," your eyes rolled.

"Tell me about it," he sighed. "Look, I'd love to help you guys out, so, tell you what. I can let you back in the kennels - no problem! Help match you to your new companion, but, uh... I don't think I can help you with the cat. You see, we, uh, we've had to start euthanizing the overflow animals or the ones who don't get adopted in a timeframe. We're at our max capacity, so... If you wanna leave him here, uh, I can't promise he'll have a place."

"You'd put him down?" Bucky growled.

"It's not what we want to do," Man Bun swiftly explained, "but it's just necessary - we don't have the room or resources to take him."

"Do you know of any no-kill shelters? Maybe one that has room?" You asked, feeling Bucky's disgust rolling off him in waves.

"Not in the area," Man Bun frowned. "Honestly? I think the closest no-kill shelter's in Maryland. Maybe Virginia?"

"Jesus," you frowned, looking at Bucky.

"Look, my best advice?" Man Bun offered, "Take the little tike home, clean him up, and call around to other shelters to see if they have space. But if you intend to adopt a dog, maybe bringing back a kitten isn't the best timing. If you give him up to us, he'll probably be sent directly to overflow..."

"We'll take him home," Bucky instantly decided, shocking you.

"We will?" You asked softly, lips curling in a small smile.

"Why not?" He sighed.

"I would've thought you'd be more of a dog person..."

"I'm not an animal person, but we're not leaving this little guy here just for him to be euthanized. We can handle him for a few days, you know, until we find a shelter with room."

"I think that's a great idea," you grinned.

"But was this your plan? For us to adopt a dog?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Why?"

You shrugged, "Just thought a dog would be nice company when I'm outta town for work. You know, could go on walks or runs together, you'd have someone looking out for you, maybe a dog would help with your stress levels?"

He eyed you for a moment, sighing, "I appreciate that, doll. Maybe another time, though? At least let us find somewhere or someone to take this guy."

The kitten gave a prolonged squeak - seemingly agreeing. "All right, noisy, we hear you," you chuckled, giving the kitten's head a scratch. You asked Man Bun, "Do you guys have the means to check him over, you know, before we go home? Make sure he's not injured or something?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "let me go get one of the technicians."

After the tech's exam, you were given the paperwork from that day's visit, the name, number, and address of a recommended vet, and before you knew it, found yourselves at the local pet store. You would've been ashamed by the absurd amount of money you spent, but Bucky rationalized the need because you weren't sure how long your new companion would stay with you. So, you ransacked the store, buying a sizable litter box, 50 pounds of actual litter, a bag of kibble, case of wet food, several different treats, a balm for the baby's feet, too many toys and stimulation activities, a carrying case in the event of transporting the kitten, and a tiny collar - if you decided to keep the little noise machine.

The sight of Bucky with the little fuzz ball warmed your heart. He still seemed hesitant and stiff, as if afraid to hurt the kitten, but he wasn't so tense anymore. However, he handed the pet over for you to hold while he carried the supplies back home; biceps bulging to support the weight. In that moment, walking familiar streets with his arms full of cat supplies, he questioned how he got here - to feel all domestic and out-of-place. He was Bucky Barnes - a Sargent in the Army, prolific hitman, something of an Avenger now. He didn't adopt cats and buy toys!

However, watching you talk to the kitten softly, he smiled - something small at first that grew like a germinating seed to split his face. You seemed so... Bright, excited, rejuvenated, even. He knew the past five months since the Blip had been rough on you, what with losing Natasha, fighting Thanos and his army of aliens, then ricocheting into 'normal life' only to deal with his emotional baggage. Watching you walk down the street with a fuzzy white ball of energy, pointing out different things, cooing and narrating the city to the kitten as if he could understand was refreshing after seemingly seeing nothing but a frown on your lips recently.

To Bucky, as long as you were happy, he was happy - and it seemed you were very content with your new little buddy. So, he was happy with your new little buddy and figured a dose of domestic life wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he actually felt... Intrigued by the newest addition to your little family.

When you returned home, it was to an empty apartment. Bucky dropped the supplies in the living room, hands to his hips, looking around, "Well, uh... At least there's room to run around, right?"

You nodded, "And no risk of ruined furniture."

"Yeah," he sighed, watching you set the kitten down. "All right, pip squeak. C'mon, lemme give you the tour - pay attention. So, in here," he moved around the wall, kitten following and listening intently, labeling, "this is the kitchen, this is where you'll get your meals - and no, you're not allowed on the counters." He pointed a warning finger, "Don't let me catch you up there or there's gonna be hell to pay. I don't wanna find your hair in my morning bagel."

"Buck, you don't eat breakfast."

"Fine, then I don't wanna hear my girl found hair in her bagel."

The kitten mewed loudly, trotting to keep up as Bucky walked around the barren apartment - giving a literal tour. You unpacked the supplies, setting up a raised food bowl beside a full water bowl. You left the treats in an empty cupboard, the litter box ready to use in the bathroom, and tossed some toys around the open, empty living room floor. You meandered, stashing other supplies, hearing the scampering thuds of excited little feet.

When your head popped out of the kitchen, you grinned at what you saw. Bucky was sat on the floor, flicking a feathered stick over the hardwood floors for the kitten to race around and try to catch. The longer you watched, the more defenseless Bucky seemed, and dare you say it, he looked calm - maybe even happy. His eyes were locked on the animal's antics as if he didn't want to miss a single movement he made; small smile making him look younger and brighter.

You made a mental note to thank Nick Fury for his suggestion. Sure, he actually said to get a dog, but this kitten seemed to have the same effect.

"Hey, baby?" You called, hanging up your phone after calling the recommended vet. "So, uh... Listen, you know how I have to go outta town on Friday?"

"Yeah?" He glanced up, letting the kitten wrestle his booted foot.

"So, I managed to get a vet appointment but it's for Friday. Is that okay? Or do you want me to reschedule for when I'm back so we can go together?"

"Oh, uh, no, that's all right, sugar, keep the Friday slot. I can take him, it's not a big deal."

"You sure? I hate having to saddle you with this responsibility."

"I'm sure," he nodded, "I can take him, it's okay."

For the rest of the week, you had a front row viewing of an incredible bond being formed. The kitten liked you, you two had many moments together, but it was obvious the little guy adored Bucky. He was stuck to your boyfriend like Velcro, following him everywhere, shrieking for attention when Bucky was preoccupied, liked being held when he cooked, even tried to get in the shower with Bucky. They played together, Bucky's laugh warming the entire apartment; positively obsessed with one another, the little guy even sleeping between you and Bucky.

It was as if you both forgot to look for the kitten a permanent home, the lack of furniture providing wide space for play and entertainment. Bucky even got one of those cat trees, couple individual scratching posts, and a laser pointer that drove your furry friend up the wall. There was some unspoken rule about naming animals - where if you named them, they were yours officially. So, one evening over dinner, you proposed a few names, Bucky giving his opinion; but then you began to consider "theme" names. Because your little buddy was white, you mused over names like Noelle or Snow, but finally settled on Alpine after narrowly beating out Aspen.

The day you flew to London, you warned both Bucky and kitten to behave themselves. Later that night, while you were sat in a tinted SUV for surveillance, your phone rang with Bucky's contact. "Hey, baby, how's it going?" You answered, refocusing through your advanced camera lens to snap necessary photos.

"Good, yeah. Uh, how's London?"

"Pretty dreary, it's been raining all day. Hey, how was the vet appointment?"

'Oh, yeah, no, it was, uh, yeah, it was good. Gave Alpine a buncha shots, microchipped her, started her on antibiotics - "

"Did you say, 'her'?"

"Yeah, that was the other thing - turns out, Alpine's a girl."

You chuckled, "Well, I'll be damned. How're you feelin', Buck?"

"I'm... Okay."

"I'm sorry I'm not there," you sighed. "Nightmares again?"

"Yeah."

"Sleeping in the living room?"

"You know it."

"TV on?"

"Reminds me I'm not where I dreamt I am."

"Well, I'll be home in a few days."

"What's this mission?"

"Just a little recon, I'm only to observe. Nicky told me to keep an eye on some suspicious activity."

"Don't tell me you're sitting in a white van?"

"No, sir, it's a Rolls Royce this time," you chuckled.

True to your word, you were home by Tuesday night. The transatlantic flight was long and tedious; a storm creating steady turbulence, making it absolutely impossible to get any shut eye. When you landed, you made a beeline to the Starbucks and got the largest coffee possible with an added 2 shots of espresso before exiting the bustling airport. Outside, waiting at the curb, Nick Fury himself stood before a sleek and shiny car that probably cost more than a 4-year education at an American university.

He smirked, "Welcome back, kid."

"Nice of you to pick me up, Nicky-Nick."

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call me 'kid'."

"Get in the Goddamn car, I'm not having this argument again."

After storing your luggage, Nick drove you back home while listening to your mission report. You didn't think the Flagsmashers were extreme enough to warrant intervention, but all Nick heard was that now was the time to strike before there came the need, before a chance for escalation could occur. You left the tablet full of notes, observations, photos, and data with the one-eyed man, and before you fully departed the car, paused to lean in the open window.

"Hey, uh, I've been meaning to thank you."

"What for?" Nick asked, face hardened in a permanent look of disagreement. You never took it personally - Nick Fury having professional Resting Bitch Face (RBF).

"Your advice about getting Bucky a dog."

"No shit," he chuckled, "you actually got him a dog?"

"Uh, well, no..."

"What'd you get?" Nick asked in suspicion, watching your lips roll between your teeth to restrain your smile. "Ah, hell no! You didn't! A cat? A fucking cat?"

"I know you don't like them - "

"Bitch! One scratched out my eye!"

"But our cat didn't."

"Doesn't matter - fuck all them felines."

You laughed and slapped the metal door, "Well, thank you anyway for the idea of a companion animal. Bucky's a lot calmer it seems."

Nick Fury sighed, waving you off like a pesky insect. "I'll call you when I got another job. Have fun with the little demon."

"You talkin' about Bucky or Alpine?"

"The cat - wait, Alpine? The fuck kinda name is that?"

"You know, Alpine... Like the Alps?"

His head shook, "I know what fuckin' alpine is."

"Why don't you head off - looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke. Didn't realize getting a kitten would stress you out this bad."

"Get out my Goddamn window and I can leave."

You grinned and dropped a wink, again, patting the car and stepping back onto the sidewalk. Nick peeled off, leaving you alone to shoulder your duffel bag and head inside your apartment building. When you got to your desired location, the door opened without the usual creak, Bucky obviously WD-40'ing the hinges. "Hello?" You called softly, hanging your keys on the little peg in the foyer, toeing out of your shoes, glancing around the empty apartment.

Ready to call out again, you actually almost choked on air when you inhaled but stopped abruptly. You pouted your bottom lip at the sight of Bucky sound asleep in his nest on the floor, TV's lighting flashing and creating shadows, giving clear sight of Alpine curled in a tight ball on Buck's chest. His flesh hand was raised to rest on his chest, keeping Alpine cuddled to his warmth.

Quickly, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, snapping an adorable picture of your boyfriend before silently tiptoeing away to dispose of your duffel and purse. You sent the photo to Bucky's phone, positive you were keeping the kitten. After a long, hot shower that washed the travel from your body, you changed into loungewear, pulled your hair back, then reentered the living room where you knelt at Bucky's side. In-sync, your presence made both Alpine and Bucky flinch awake - your boyfriend jerking away from your warmth as the kitten hopped off his chest.

You winced, "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you."

His head shook, "No, it's all right, doll, I wasn't sleeping."

"You were, don't deny it," you grinned, settling on the mound of blankets.

Bucky chuckled gently, "I tried to stay up for you. C'mere," his arm opened in invitation, smirking gently. You settled down and turned into his side, his arm now coiled around your form, constricting to pull you closer so his lips could plant on your forehead. "How was London? Your mission?"

"Easy peasy," you sighed, "nothing too strenuous or stressful. The most 'complicated' part of the whole thing was using a different car each day to avoid suspicion."

"Hmm... Who was the target?"

"Some radical group," you sighed, head resting on his pectoral. "How was it? Just you and Alpine?"

"It was pretty good, nothing to complain about. She's nice company."

As if understanding she was the topic of conversation, Alpine mewed several times in a row as she walked up the seam of your body pressed to Bucky's. She turned in two circles before settling down between you; your grin authentic as a manicured fingernail extended to scratch her head.

"Actually, sweetheart, I've been thinking..."

"Hmm? About what?" You mumbled, eyes drooping with each passing second.

"About how we should keep her - Alpine, we should keep Alpine."

"You're just figuring that out now?" You teased, sluggishly lifting your head to smirk at him. "I knew she was ours the moment you picked her up. It'll be nice having her around, don't you think? I know she's not a dog you can take on walks but with Alpine, you don't have to be alone."

He nodded, "I like that idea. She's a good cat."

"Check your phone in the morning."

"Why?"

"Mmmh, I sent you a picture, you'll see - but it's just confirmation that Alpines part of us now, part of our crew."

"Our family," Bucky agreed softly. He watched you resettle on his chest, spending the following couple hours in the glow of the TV, watching you and Alpine. Bucky's heart warmed to a degree he's never known, making the comparison of himself to Jim Carrey's, the Grinch - a movie you made him watch. Eventually, exhaustion outweighed his domestic thoughts; falling asleep with you safe in his arms and Alpine curled up between you.

"Well, this certainly is a surprise... I was beginning to think James made you up."

"Oh, please, nobody could make me up - I'm too complex, nobody's got that kinda imagination," you smirked, legs crossed, seated beside Bucky on a sofa; both facing his therapist.

"I'm glad you could finally join us - I've been asking James to bring you for a while now," Dr. Raynor's eyes darted between you and Bucky, making you feel as if she was seeing right into your soul. However, her tone was accusatory, as if scolding Bucky.

So, you swiftly defended, "Well, I'm happy to be here. Bucky's one of my top priorities, I'd do anything for him - including attending any of these silly mandated sessions. Which are bullshit, by the way, because he's not the Winter Soldier anymore so why is Bucky being crucified? Why is this being pinned on him when he technically didn't do anything? The Winter Soldier did."

"Well, healing often takes time and dedication, and must be done in a series of steps. That's how you see real progress. These sessions are a condition of his pardon - "

"I can't believe your government would even enforce these silly little rules considering Bucky's assistance. He fought against Thanos, he fought on our side, and by all means, helped restore what was lost. I just find it pretty dehumanizing to force him to jump through hoops. I mean, for Christ's sake, half the universe was snapped away, you'd think after that, there wouldn't be need for pardons or contingencies - or for holding onto grudges."

"This is simply how we keep order in a post-Blip society. Everything changed in those five years, it's necessary to keep balance amongst all worldly citizens."

You scoffed lightly, "Ever consider these sessions might be doing more harm than good?"

Raynor frowned, "Despite the Winter Soldier being decommissioned, James still has trauma to process and skeletons to clear out of the closet. Yes, the Winter Soldier is gone, but the man remains - and James needs to focus on healing that part of himself. Whatever he did as the Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky's doing, but he still remembers all he did, which creates a heavy toll on the mind. That's part of the reason these sessions are mandated - because the assassin might be gone, but the residual effects still linger."

You hummed, "Well, let's get into it, Doc."

"You know... I've heard a lot about you. James paints you in a very bright light, says your bark and bite are equally as vicious."

"Hm," you nodded, brows perked, "yet I don't know shit about you."

"Perfectly natural. Typically, most people don't gossip about their therapists. It's nice that you could join us for this session."

"Nice to be invited."

She clicked her pen and settled her pad securely on her lap, just staring at you and Bucky for a long moment. You were ready to snap at her when she opened her mouth, "So, I hear you adopted a cat?"

"We did," you confirmed.

"Alpine," Bucky supplied, body rigid with tension and nerves.

"Right... Alpine," Raynor nodded, leaning her elbow to an arm of her padded chair. "How did this cat come into your possession?"

"We rescued her from a dumpster," Bucky answered stiffly.

"Really?" Raynor perked both brows.

"She was under some pieces of cardboard, screamin' her li'l head off," You chuckled. "Though, I think it's safe to say she chose us, adopted us as caregivers."

"How's that?"

"She wouldn't let us pick her up and we were afraid to take her in case her mama was lingering around. Turns out, she followed us. We were at a crosswalk when she caught up, demanding we pick her up and take her home."

"Is that so?"

"I'd like to think so," you nodded. "We were already on our way to the shelter, so, we took her with us, got her checked out."

"Why were you heading to the shelter to begin with?"

"Oh, uh, to adopt a dog. I had a colleague recommend an emotional support animal - or a companionship animal - to help Bucky feel less alone."

Raynor made a note of something. "You work often?" She asked.

"Often enough that I feel guilty for leaving. Figured getting a dog would instill a sense of dependence, you know, help Bucky feel like there was someone depending on him. Help usher in comfort and stability, help keep him calm, focused, distracted. But Alpine does the same thing - no dog necessary, apparently."

Raynor nodded, her wrinkles dimpling as she frowned and wrote down another note. When her eyes lifted, so did her lips; a smirk on display as she praised, "I actually think that's a wonderful idea. You know, there's been a lot of research about soldiers with PTSD benefitting from an emotional support animal. You're right, they promote peace, stability, distraction - gives patrons a tangible purpose, taking care of another life not their own."

"For sure, again, anything to help," you agreed, holding Bucky's gloved hand he kept covered by leather - only worn in public.

"Although, I wonder, why get a pet? I ask because James speaks highly of you, credits you for keeping him stable and on-track. Do you feel as if she's not enough, James? Is that why you kept Alpine?"

"No," he answered instantly, "she's my best girl and will always be enough. Watch your mouth, Doc."

"But sometimes extra help is nice," you tacked on, tightening your hand in Bucky's. "But for what it's worth, Dr. Raynor, Bucky keeps me sane. I keep him balanced. We keep each other safe. Alpine's just an added bonus, a quiet menace to help quell the business of our brains."

Raynor smirked, "I must say, you surprise me, Miss."

"I'm no stranger to mental health. But as I said before, I just want to help." You looked up at Bucky, finsihing softly, "He deserves peace in this lifetime - and if a little ball of fur can help, sign me up..."

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

199 notes · View notes

lymmsweb · 11 months

Text

You call the shots babe, i just wanna be yours

🕷pairing : miguel o’hara x spider!reader

🕷word count : 1199

🕷tags : mutual pining, makeout session, slight angst

🕷summary : Miguel needs a quick break, you’re the only one that can get him to get a breath of fresh air.

Miguel had been cooped up in his office at the Spider HQ reviewing reports on potential threats to the multiverse, he had a admirable work ethic that was near impossible to break him out of, that was one of the traits many respected him for. Bags were starting to form under his eyes as the silence of the night filled the air until Lyla would chime in a statistic or overview, he paid no mind to his slight fatigue and continued typing and swiping away at the holographic screens. Lost in thought he didn’t hear your soft footsteps become louder and close in on him, a warm coffee filled mug you had made him was slightly burning your fingertips as you held onto it.

“Miguel?” you called out to him, making him smile to himself at the sound of your voice. He stopped what he was reading, turning around to look at you.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned with concern, no malice laced in his tone “It’s so late.” He took you in, the way your hair was ruffled just the right amount, the way the moonlit night casted blue shadows on your best features and how you always greeted him with a smile.

You handed him the mug, his eyes lighting up as his fingers touched yours momentarily “You’ve been in here all day, I haven’t seen you at all!” A bittersweet feeling dried up his mouth, he was glad you thought of him but he felt like he should push you away as to avoid heartbreak, he knew that most of the time in every dimension Spiderman’s love life was a cruel joke.

“I’ve been working.” he brought the mug to his lips taking a sip of the coffee, not once breaking eye contact “Thanks.” He grimaced slightly, he hated coffee though he’d never tell you that.

“Take a break Mi-” you tried to reason

“I’ve got too much work.” he tried to make any excuse as to not give in

“Please?’ you leaned closer to him, inviting and tempting him. He stared hard. His heart beat in a frenzy, he heard how the pulse quickened in his ears yet his poker face wasn’t even slightly cracking. His mind raced from all the different outcomes that you could tangle him in or, all the situations he had to untangle in his work, his inhibition slowly crumbling away every second he felt your warmth radiating into him.

“Please.” you softly pleaded placing your hand on his wrist, sending electrical like shocks to him that make a shiver run down his spine. He finally felt how his eyes ached, his head hurt and his suit felt unbearingly uncomfortable.

“Fine, fine you win,” he took another sip of the drink, resisting the urge to gag “where do you want to go?”

You let him go and pondered for a bit, nothing would be open at these late hours and he desperately needed an escape from the stuffy air indoors. “We could climb to the roof?” you suggested, he simply gave you a curt nod and you two started walking through the long passageways of the HQ in a comfortable silence. Almost no one was there at the time, only a handful of Spider-people stayed to catch up with old friends.By the time you two made it outside he had already finished the drink you gave him, placing it on a random table you two passed by.

“See how good the air feels?” you exclaimed, sticking to the side of the building by your feet and started to walk up it as if gravity did not apply to you. He watched you, your hair drooped down exposing more of your features, the carefree way you carried yourself and how much his heart burned with passion. Once you were a couple meters above him he jumped up too, right alongside you. He straightened his back as he matched your pace, his eyes staring blankly at the moon and stars that shon brightly whilst the air started to freshen his mind up. All that could be heard was the sound of cars drifting by as if they were in no rush, the apartments surrounding the tall building had some rooms illuminated in bright colours, adding a sense of personality to the charming view.

“Thanks.” he glanced over to you, trying his best to be sneaky.

“For what?” you looked over to him, he was staring at you like he was star struck. Miguel’s eyes wandered to your lips, eyes and blushed cheeks as every syllable escaped your mouth.

“I never realized how beautiful…” he hesitated, unsure of what would spill out of his mouth “Nueva York is at night.” A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he finished his statement, he couldn’t care less on what Nueva York looked like. Breaking away from his gaze you looked around, the ground looked so far away that cars looked like small insects passing by in an orderly line. All the stars illuminated you two and the building you were scaling, only a couple meters from the very top a rush of excitement passed over you. You responded to him with a small noise of agreement as you finally made it to the top. Sitting down as you looked at the city he fought so hard to protect, he sat down with you too, shoulders touching each other without either of you saying a word. His muscles relaxed into your touch. Each breath he took the fatigue was slowly catching up to him.

“Por dios it’s been ages since i’ve felt like this.” he shifted his leg so it was pressed up against yours whilst he fiddled with his fingers

“You need,” looking over to him your faces were mere inches apart, he never once stopped looking at you. His lips were parted showing just the tip of his fangs, his breath smelt like black coffee and his red eyes were mixing beautifully with the blue hues of the night. His suit retracted just so his bare hands were on display, bringing them to your lips and gently felt your lips “a break.” you breathlessly finished your sentence just before he closed the distance, his chapped lips gracefully glided against yours whilst his hands held your jaw in place. He turned his body to lean into the kiss more, effectively shielding you from the cool air as he covered you with his body. your hands roamed from his waist all the way up to his hair, slightly tugging it which drove him crazy. A sudden feeling of hunger took control over him, he roughly deepened the kiss as his hands started to push you into him from the nape of your neck. His fangs slightly nicked your tongue which resulted in a faint metallic taste mixed with your saliva. The lack of air was making your lungs scream for oxygen. Placing your hands on his chest you firmly pushed him signaling him to stop which he understood almost immediately, both of you were left breathless afterwards, panting and smiling as you two just looked at each other.

“Guess i should take more breaks?”

a/n: Por dios - For god’s sake. I got the title from this song! Any criticism is welcome and i didnt proofread too in depth:) Also huge brainrot for this himbo

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littlesubbyflower · 4 months

Text

Changing Locks

Toxic!Eddie Munson X AFAB!Reader

2.7K Words

TW: Angst, Toxic!Eddie, toxic relationship

A/N :: Hey y’all, here I am projecting again lmao. Enjoy! If you enjoyed, please like and reblog!

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Everyone always assumed your relationship with Eddie Munson was perfect. Resident freak turned nice for the good girl, but it was far from what everyone in the halls at school or in the isles at the grocery store.

Sure, everyone saw you two cozied up in the cafeteria, or his arm thrown over your shoulders in the hallways, or his hand on your thigh when he sat next to you in shared classes, but no one saw the explosive arguments, they never saw the death glares or the pleading and begging, only to be met with false promises and disappointment.

You woke up today thinking that everything would be okay, that you would have a good day.

Today, Eddie was supposed to spend the day with you, after a busy week of gigs and an afternoon's long D&D session from the day before. The day had been planned out last week, it consisted of breakfast at your favorite spot, a day drive to Indianapolis to check out this new record shop and to stop by your favorite bookstore, grab lunch if you felt like, before coming home to spend the remainder of your day watching movies together.

Except none of that happened. After you showered, dried your hair and applied makeup, you still hadn’t heard from Eddie. Which seemed a bit unusual but you shrugged it off at first. Maybe he was still sleeping, maybe his phone was dead, or a last minute thing with his Uncle Wayne came up.

You knew he had a bad habit of getting distracted most times due to his unmedicated adult ADHD, so you were crossing your fingers in hopes it was just that. To pass the time, you pick up one of your comfort books while you wait for him to message or call you. Before opening the book, you glance at the time on your watch which read 9:36 am

Sighing deeply and opening the book, you begin reading.

After turning endless pages, tossing and turning to get comfortable, and a snack later, you close the novel, you glance at your watch again, this time, the time read 1:57 pm.

Puzzled, you pick up your phone again to make sure you hadn’t missed any calls or messages and to your disdain, there were none. You decided to finally message Eddie.

You: Hey Eddie! I was just popping in to make sure that you were okay? Haven’t heard from you today and I’m starting to get worried.

You press send, only to watch it go from ‘Delivered’ straight to ‘Read 1:58 PM’ Your heart pounded in your chest, hoping for some kind of reply, but it never came. Time ticked by for 15 agonizing minutes before you sent another message.

You: We are still on for our plans today, right?

‘Delivered’

A nine letter word that has taunted you the last eight months of your relationship with Eddie.

A nine letter word that has caused so many arguments, so many sleepless nights, and has seen so many empty promises and declarations to change, but they never happen.

You roll your eyes and lock your phone, tossing it onto the bed next to you before looking up at the ceiling when the all too familiar feeling of tears starts pricking at your lash line.

“This mascara is too expensive to cry off. This mascara is too expensive to cry off. This mascara is too expensive to cry off.” You repeat the mantra to yourself, fanning at your face with your hands.

Closing your eyes and sighing deeply, you just sit, waiting for something.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“ ‘s open.” You day in a monotone voice.

“Steve, you said she was supposed to be out with Eddie!” Robin whisper shouted at the boy with her.

“I told you to check the circle before we even drove over here!” Steve whispered back. “We’re already here, might as well give it to her.” He says, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door slowly.

Robin walked into your room first, carrying a gift bag adorned with ribbons and glittering tissue paper, quickly shuffling over to you, and extending her arms, thrusting the bag into your personal space before giving you her signature grin.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous!” She nearly shouted. Steve walks into the room right behind her. “This is from Steve and I, obviously!”

You take the gift out of her outstretched arms and smile meekly. “Birthday? It isn’t my birthday?”

Steve scoffs. “Okay, sure. Your best friend only turns 19 once, so we got you something, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You look between the two puzzled, before it dawns on you what today’s date was. They must’ve seen the realization on your face before they both looked panicked.

“I thought you were supposed to be with Eddie today?” Robin asked, trying to change the subject.

“I was, he hasn’t been answering, and I figured he was just… busy?”

Steve excuses himself from the room and you set the gift down.

Grabbing your phone again, dialing Eddie’s number this time instead of trying to text him, you waited for the line to ring, and it did, three times before someone said “Stop bothering us, we’re busy” and there was yelling in the background before hanging up.

A white hot flash of pain flashes through your chest and your throat feels tight and like it’s wrapped in barbed wire. You look up at Robin in shock, her blue eyes looking back at you with the same expression.

You try his number again, hand shaking while putting the phone on speaker, trying to catch your breath. The line rings twice before someone picks it up.

“Hey! We’re kind of busy right now with a session? Everything okay?” Dustin Henderson speaks into the phone.

“S-session? I thought that was yesterday..”

“Eddie said he didn’t have anything important to do today, so we just picked up where we left off.” The younger boy confirmed. ‘Henderson, come ON, hang up the phone!’ someone shouted. ‘Wait, I’m talking to—’ ‘We know! She’s been blowing my shit up all day, I don’t care what she has to say, hang up and come back and finish this game!’

You heard Dustin sigh into the phone before speaking. “Well, I guess I should go… I’ll tell Eddie you called. Oh! Happy birthday, by the way!” He said before hanging up.

The air feels like it’s been knocked out of your lungs. Suddenly, it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe. The air feels sticky and heavy, and the room starts spinning.

Is this what betrayal feels like? Is this what having your heart ripped out of your chest feels like? You drop your head to look into your lap.

This doesn’t feel real, it’s all a horrible dream and you’re going to wake up soon and it’ll all just be a dream. Pinching your arm, realizing it wasn’t a dream, a sob escaped your throat and tears began falling, makeup be damned.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but part of you is. Eddie promised you would spend today together. Weeks of rain checks and forgotten plans were supposed to be made up today.

He didn't care what you had to say? The statement and the thought alone made your chest ache.

You shake your head and let the tears fall freely now. Not only had your boyfriend lied to you, he broke several promises and now didn’t care about what you had to say?

Robin sits next to you on your bed, pulling you into an awkward hug with her long limbs.

Steve peeks back into the room through the cracked door and sees Robin’s arms wrapped around you as your shoulders rise and fall with the body wracking sobs coming from your chest. The gift the duo had gotten you was quickly forgotten about.

After Robin and Steve had gotten you calmed down, they had convinced you to let them treat you for a milkshake at least.

“I know it’s not your favorite Italian place, but I can't just leave you at home to cry that way over him, honey.” Steve said, reaching his hand across the table to place it comfortingly across yours while Robin ordered a basket of fries and three different milkshakes. “Things haven’t been okay for a while, have they?”

You slowly look up at Steve, shaking your head before you drop your eyes back to the table.

“Why haven’t you come to one of us? You know that we’re always here for you.” Robin spoke as she slid into the booth next to Steve, dropping the basket of fries onto the table and sliding your milkshake glass to you, propping a foot up next to your thigh in the seat next to you, a comforting action, giving you space, but still touching you.

“I just… wanted to handle everything on my own.” You sniffed out. “I—”

You’re cut off by the voice of Dustin and Lucas arguing over a piece of the campaign with Mike and Will trailing and talking over each other, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Doug following behind them. You sink lower into the booth, not wanting to be seen, which almost works. Jeff and Gareth wave to you as they go to their usual back corner booth and politely, you wave back.

Steve gently clears his throat. “I can’t just… sit and watch you cry over him.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and continues. “What’s been going on? Summarize and paraphrase if you have to.”

“Oh gosh Steve,” you say sarcastically. “Hmm, where do I start? The lying? The broken promises or the declarations to change? Him blatantly ignoring me? The gaslighting? The manipulation? Or the fact that I know what he’s doing and I’m still stupid enough to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope that he’s actually going to do what he says?” You question, bringing your hands up to face to cover your eyes.

Robin and Steve share a look. “If he’s hurting you this much, I see no point in staying.” Robin says carefully, shoving a few fries into her mouth and chewing. “It’s hurting you more to hold onto the broken pieces when all you need to do is just… let go.”

“A-and I know that’s easier said than done, believe me.” Steve pipes up next. “This all has to be on your terms, honey. We can’t do this for you.”

“I wish you could. Knowing myself, I would take it all back almost instantly. I would say how I didn't mean it, and that I’m the one who’s sorry.” You start crying into your hands. “Steve, what do they have that I don’t? Why can’t he just… pick me? What hobbies do I need to pick up? What things do I need to go out and buy for him to just want to be with me?” You cry harder, hiding your face in your hands.

Steve nods and Robin slides out of the booth, allowing Steve to switch sides, pulling you into a protective hug as best as he could. Robin sits back down as Dustin leaves the hellfire table and slides in next to Robin, shoving a few fries into his mouth as he takes in the scene in front of him.

“Henderson, get back over here!” Eddie called clear across the restaurant. Dustin’s eyes move back and forth between the Hellfire group and the sad scene happening right here. He silently gets up and goes back to the table where Eddie and the rest of the group was sitting.

You hated this, it felt as if Eddie was forcing the younger boys to pick a side and that he may be holding their spots in the Hellfire Club over their heads. Taking a deep breath and uncovering your face, you slide your milkshake towards the center of the table.

“Steve, can you take me back home?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah, absolutely.” He said gently, unwrapping his arms from around you and slid out of the booth. He digs his wallet out and hands a $20 bill to Robin.

“Meet you in the car, Robbie.” He says, holding his hand out to you so he can take you to the car.

Robin thinks to herself for a moment, weighing the options out in her head. She could pay for their barely touched fries and wasted shakes and just leave, or she could give Eddie Munson a piece of her mind. She decides that the consequences might be worth it. She pays the meal ticket and grabs your untouched milkshake, making a beeline straight for the Hellfire table.

Dustin and Lucas watch with wide eyes, Mike stops talking and turns to see the older girl stop right behind Eddie’s chair.

“So Eddie, let me get this straight… not only have you been playing with my best friend’s feelings and breaking her heart, we’re suddenly ignoring birthdays and talking to people like they’re pieces of shit too?” Robin scoffs, Eddie completely turning around in his chair to look at her in shock. “Your girlfriend only turns 19 once and I refuse to let her sit and cry over.. over a worn out mophead like you!” Robin’s hands are shaking in anger. “You fumbled the best girl that has ever happened to you, and it’ll be such. sweet. revenge. seeing her with…” She trails off and smirks. “I’ll just save that for the polaroids.”

Steve watches the scene unfold through the window of the diner while everyone inside watches with their jaws slack, not daring to speak up or even move to diffuse the situation. Steve knew Robin was a bit unpredictable so he decided to let her handle this her own way.

Time slowed as Eddie tried to weakly defend himself, but the girl had already made up her mind. Robin took your untouched strawberry milkshake and dumped the entire cup over his head, its sugary contents streaking down his curls making them clump together and staining the white part of his shirt with streaks of red and pink.

“By the way, your relationship with her, it’s. done. If I even see you so much as breathe in her direction, you’ll get more than a fucking milkshake over your head, got it?”

The table’s collective gasps and Robin’s heavy breathing can be heard throughout the diner before she slams the cup down and stalks off, slinging the door open and stomping off to Steve’s car.

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Robin holds her hand up to silence him.

“Do not start with me, Harrington.” Robin says. “Let’s just get her home.”

Climbing into the back seat with you so you aren’t alone, Robin places her hand on your thigh in a comforting manner.

“You didn’t have to dump the entire milkshake on him, Robbie.” You mumble quietly, leaning your head on her shoulder. “I’m glad you did though.”

“Someone needs to put that asshole in his place, and Steve would’ve beaten him to a pulp… the milkshake was the next best thing.”

“I still might.” Steve says, turning on the car and putting it into reverse and pulling out of the parking spot. “I’m debating.”

“I uh, also told him that your relationship is done. That was probably just a heat of the moment thing, but babe I cannot just-- just sit back and watch you cry over him like this.” Robin rambles, running her free hand up and down your side soothingly.

“I know.” You mumble out.

A silence falls over the car from the diner to your driveway, the occasional sound heard was a sniffle or two from you.

Steve puts his car in park before turning around to look at you.

“Are you going to be alright by yourself tonight?” He asks and you shrug. “We could stay if you wanted?”

You shrug again. Robin and Steve share a look. “If you need us, you can always call.” Robin says.

“Actually… Steve, you know how to change locks, right?”

“Yeah I do, why?”

You sit up a little straighter and take a deep breath.

“I think I'm ready to find my inner peace, and it’ll start by changing the locks.”

Steve looked at you and nodded.

“Yeah honey, I’ll change the locks for you.”

Thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!

#littlesubbyflower #lsfwrites #eddie munson #littlesubbyflower: eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fan fic #Toxic!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader #toxic!eddie munson

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mybelovedwoo · 11 months

Text

after an argument - headcanon

being in cold waters with ateez members

headcanon, romance, angst, fluff

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~0.5k

an: you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

masterlist

hongjoong

-is giving you the silent treatment, locks himself up in his studio (making the best hits at times like this)

-thinks he has the right every time

-needs some time to think about it, and after all later he admits that you both were wrong and apologizes for his behavior

-for him to forgive you, you need to do something dramatic, ofc he likes to talk it out, but prefers action over cheap words

seonghwa

-is feeling guilty right at the moment, especially seeing how upset you are

-apologies immediately, the next few days, he does everything for you to make it up

-sits down with you and tries to really discuss the issue

-for him to forgive you, you need to do a straightforward apology, you need to admit your wrongdoings

yunho

-just knows he's right (and he actually is right)

-once things get cool down, is quick to forgive and forget, just hates the whole atmosphere after

-tries to make jokes here and there, to see how you react

-for him to forgive you, you have to promise to never commit the same mistake again, although he's not one who can stay mad at someone

yeosang

-can't stay mad for a long time, sure he is upset with you, but not gonna show it to you

-trying to please you in any way possible

-after all, trying to find the real reason for the problem, and trying to solve it all alone

-for him to forgive you, you need to add some humor to cover up your mistakes, again he's can't stay mad for a long time

san

-is really upset about how far this whole situation went, hates arguing with you so much

-apologizes hundreds of times, like you feel bad after

-a whole cuddling session for hours after it (with a lot of kisses), like never letting go of you ever

-for him to forgive you, you have to give a sensitive and genuine apology, he requires patience and lots of love, especially if you hurt his heart, you just need to prove that you are worthy of his forgiveness

mingi

-he regretted saying things he didn't mean at all

-so frustrated he's not gonna let it slide without you proving yourself right with convincing reasons

-but when he realizes he was wrong, he is quick to apologize

-for him to forgive you, you need to give him a bit of flattery, it will work most of the time, just say things like you don't deserve his love or something like this

wooyoung

-is a bit upset for a couple of minutes (sometimes it's even just seconds), then acts as if nothing happened

-goes up to you with a smile, and kisses and hugs you, if you're playing hard to get, he's not gonna leave you alone until you're not excepting his love

-you can't stay mad at him for too long, he just has this power over everybody

-for him to forgive you, you just need to make a warm, affectionate peace offering, he's not one who can't forgive you easily

jongho

-it's really rare to have a heated argument with him, he is just so cooperative and fair-minded

-prefers to find a solution that is good for both of you

-not gonna forget about it for a long time though, is gonna think about is still

-for him to forgive you, you need to do the same thing, just give him an effortful apology, and talk it out

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 11 months

Text

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Ghost watches you put your makeup on in the morning.

SFW, Extreme Fluff, Light Angst, Light Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Softness, Makeup, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Self-Indulgent, Ghost and Reader are In Love, Drabble

WC: 1k~

Another drabble, just because I'm writing fluff for a different WIP and I'm trying to work out some kinks. Also, I think Ghost needs some more peaceful content every now and again from me, I be making him unhappy as hell in my other stuff.

Masterlist

"You're staring again."

Simon blinks, that familiar silk-soaked voice of yours pulling him back into the morning. He sits up from where he'd still been lying in bed, the covers sprawled across him as though he'd just woken up from a battle deep within his sleep. It's had him moving rather sluggishly since waking, though that had been no complaint by any means.

It only meant he had an excuse to spend some more time with you before work; and right now, you'd been doing a hobby of yours he's come to really enjoy watching.

You stand firmly in front of the dresser on your side of the bed, irises glued to your mirror, and a deadly grip on your liquid black eyeliner. Your eyes had been the last part of your look needing to be completed, and you'd be dammed if you fucked it up now.

You bring the pen to the corner of your eye, with the kind of precision Simon has only seen outdone by the steadiest hands belonging only to his well-trained comrades. And even then you gave them a run for their money.

With the spiritual guidance of a painter, you gently line the ink to your skin, curving it back and forth from below your brow to back towards your eyelid, until you've outlined a sharp winged look at the corners of your eyes, filling them in.

They look perfect once complete. Though, when you stare at yourself in the mirror a few seconds too long, you frown, dissatisfied.

You lift your hand up and start using your pinkie nail to scrap the parts of eyeliner you'd begun to hate. Your attention remains here primarily, though you've never had issues multitasking.

"Still staring, Si'," you comment, having felt his gaze on you since you first put your foundation on. It's hard not to notice his eyes on you, given the weight that often came with them. A weight you'd happily hold.

"Wha', I can't enjoy the view?" He jokes, no doubt feeling just a bit more awake when he sees it's made you smile.

You look down at Simon, finally setting all your makeup back down on the dresser, wide-eyed with genuine concern, "Do I look OK?"

A small, crooked smile forms on his tattered lips as he chuckles to himself. Yes, you already knew what he was going to say, or what he wanted to say: you don't need the makeup. You could have your face completely done up or covered in mud, he would still love you. He would always love you.

Though he knew now, that's not the answer you were looking for. It took a while for him to understand that; he'd yet to understand the craftsmanship that truly came with applying makeup. However, seeing how happy you looked at the end of every makeup session all but spelled out the answer you'd really been looking for.

It wasn't about looking pretty or hiding, or even due to some superficial beliefs about womanhood or whatnot. You just really liked to do your makeup. And Simon just really loves to see you happy.

If this was something that made you smile, then it would always be a welcome thing to have around.

Simon sits up on the bed, letting his sturdy legs swing over the edge and his feet touch the soft carpet below. He reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you in so he could take a closer look at your work, the man still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Once comfortably boxed in by both his legs and arms, you let out a happy sigh, your gaze at eye level with him even as he still sat. Up close, with the dawn's light gently painting over his scarred skin, drawn by years of old stories he's only scarcely shared word of, he looked rather shy.

Every so often, when you traced over his skin while lying in bed, he'd oblige you with a story -- some heart-wrenching tale that only made you feel that much more endeared by him.

Sometimes he joked about wanting to wear makeup himself and cover all these ghastly sights on him. That way he didn't feel so vulnerable when your eyes would see them in all its miserable glory.

But you do what you have done since seeing them. You bring your touch to his skin, letting your fingers trace his scars' outlines and grooves, mending past traumas with your present-day love.

You look at Simon patiently, resting your hands against his broad shoulders. "Did the eyeliner fuck up the whole look?" You ask.

Simon's dark eyes bounce about your face, taking in the blush, the lipstick, the glitter and highlight, your brows, and then your eyes... His gaze sits still there, and any longer and you just might have started to feel yourself lean in.

"Hold on," his voice booms out suddenly, before he's brought his thumb to the corner of your cheek. A small bit of your mascara had dotted you, though he made sure to be as careful as possible with removing it for you. He hadn't wanted to mess up your hard work. "There you go."

He lowers his hand, taking another look at you. His expression softens, a smile forming. "Beautiful."

You smile, and it's everything and more he needed to start his day off with. Simon takes your hands, before pulling you even closer, until he's felt your lips take his sweetly.

It had been his favorite thing to start his mornings out like this, with just being able to hold you close to him, the sensation feeling as necessary as oxygen itself most days. When he'd kiss you, he only made up for that need by stealing your own breath away, his lips wrapped with yours like a sincere promise.

You cup your hands over his face, kissing him as you've felt his strong arms begin to wrap around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It squeezes the air from you and makes you laugh in his arms, as you pull back from your kiss.

That's when your eyes go wide and you start to giggle. "Oops."

Your lipstick was now completely smeared over the man's mouth, rubbing off on his chin as though you'd just given him a newly colored five-o'clock shadow.

Immediately, Simon knows what's been done, as you're a repeat offender of this. He gives you a quizzical look and smirks. "How do I look?" He asks.

You lean back in, letting your lips feather over his.

"Beautiful."

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare ii #mwii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #Spotify

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agustdakasuga · 1 year

Text

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 2

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

After spending the whole day at home yesterday, except leaving to get groceries for the house, you thought you would feel more refreshed. But whether you liked it or not, your father’s letter stayed on your mind. There were many questions that were unanswered.

“Hey! Watch it!” Someone yelled out to you as you accidentally bumped shoulders with them, too deep in thought.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, continuing your way to your locker. University was just university to you. It wasn’t a fancy private academy or the top campus, you just wanted to graduate with your degree and find a job.

You didn’t have a major yet. Your university allowed students to study common modules in the first year if you couldn’t decide on a major. But you needed to choose one in the second year.

“(y/n) sshi. Welcome back. My deepest condolences.” The professor greeted you as you entered the classroom.

“Thank you, professor.” You bowed your head before going to your seat.

“Hey, (y/n), I kept your homework for you.” Your good friend, Wonwoo, pulled out the chair to sit with you. Unlike you, Wonwoo had chosen his major when applying for university. He majored in Music.

“Thanks, Wonwoo. You’re a lifesaver.” You smiled, briefly flipping through the notes and homework that you’ve missed.

“So, what happened? I thought you didn’t have a dad. Then all of a sudden, you’re at his funeral?” Wonwoo asked. You scratched your head, not really sure where to begin.

“Honestly, the past few days have been rough. Suddenly I get news from a stranger that the man, who is also my father, passed away. I was expected to be the chief mourner since I am apparently his only blood related child. I don’t really know how to feel, he’s a stranger, I barely know his name and face. Is it bad that I don’t feel the grief?” You sighed.

“Like you said, he’s a stranger. You’re not expected to mourn over someone you don’t know. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled softly, patting your head.

“Everyone that came to the funeral told me what a great man my father was. Remembering what my mother went through alone, I didn’t think he was that great.” You said sourly.

“Has he not tried to reach out all those years?”

“Not at all, no phone call, nothing. From the letter he left me, he probably didn’t even know my mother died.” You shrugged.

You were grateful to have Wonwoo. You have known him since high school. Back then, you didn’t think having friends was important so you kept to yourself. But if you didn’t have him to talk to, you didn’t know what you would do.

“Don’t bottle it all up, okay? You know you don’t have to shoulder it all on your own.” He comforted.

“Hopefully this was just a one time thing and I don’t have to be involved with anything related to my father again. It’s too much for me to accept a parent at this age and only after his death. I wish for him to still remain the stranger he always was.” You rubbed your temples.

“Alright, with most of you here, let’s begin class.” The professor spoke.

After class, you and Wonwoo had lunch together before he had to go for music class and you had mandatory session with the guidance counsellor about choosing your major.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Lee.” You greeted as you entered the small room. Mrs Lee smiled and stood up to get you from the door.

“Hi, (y/n). How have you been?”

“I’ve been okay. If you’re specifically referring to the passing of my father, I am okay about that too.” You cleared your throat, sitting down. She awkwardly nodded her head and sat down opposite you, pulling your file out.

“Now, since we last spoke, have you explored more about what major you would want to take?” She asked.

“Kind of? I have been narrowing down my choices.” You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment but she had an encouraging smile all the way.

“Playing to my strengths of learning foreign languages, I was thinking linguistics and language major. But I did consider biology, as well.” You began to list out all your options and the reasons.

“It’s good that you have narrowed down your options, (y/n). And with your grades, you can choose any of the options you have just listed. But with some, you might need to do a placement test, the same one that everyone does. You told me all the good points of each major option. How about... ‘the bad’ or your worries with each major?” She asked.

“The main worry is that the degree won’t get me far after I graduate. Not so much worried about work load...” You replied.

“You never know, the needs of the industry is always changing. In a few years, things will change. Companies might focus on new goals and trends will change.” She said. You nodded your head.

“(y/n), at the end of the day, you have to ask yourself what you want to do, only you know what you enjoy.”

“I know...”

“You’re going through a lot now, I understand. Let’s speak again in a month and see if there is more clarity then.” She shot you a friendly smile. You grabbed your bag and she escorted you to the door.

“Thanks, Mrs Lee. I guess I’ll see you in a month.” You left her office. You went to your locker to get the books you needed for your next class. Wonwoo was there, waiting for you. It was weird since you usually meet him in class.

“How was Mrs Lee?” He smirked.

“She believes my ‘grieving’ self can’t think straight so there was no progress. I think I just have to figure this who major thing on my own.” You groaned. Wonwoo was your close friend and probably only friend but you didn’t tell him everything, you drew a line for privacy and he respected that.

Also, a part of you felt that telling him everything would make you dependent on him and you didn’t want that. You needed to be independent and be mentally ready for when he gets sick of you and leaves.

You only had two more classes before you could go home. Wonwoo insisted on taking you home on his bike. He handed you his helment.

“I’m really fine taking the bus, you know?” You didn’t really live far away from your university.

“It’s no problem, really.” Wonwoo said, reaching over to make sure the helmet was adjusted well and not too tight or loose. He helped you onto the bike before climbing on.

“You should wear the helmet.” You spoke.

“I’d feel much better if you’re the one wearing the helmet.” He chuckled, starting the engine.

“Hang on.” He declared. You yelped in shock, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. Wonwoo sped off in the direction of your house. He made sure to not go too fast, knowing that you felt nervous on the bike.

However, when Wonwoo pulled up to your street, you were not expecting to see a luxury car parked in front of your house. The Porsche stuck out like a sore thumb but you didn’t recognise it. Wonwoo stopped the motorcycle and helped you off. The car door opened and a suited male emerged. You recognised him as one of Namjoon’s brothers.

“(y/n) sshi.” He approached you.

“Who is that?” Wonwoo asked, looking the man up and down, taking in his tailored suit, expensive shoes and luxury car. He stepped in front of you, slightly protective. You bit the inside of your lip.

“It’s alright, Woo. I... know him. He’s one of the guys from the funeral.” You explained to him.

“I’ve got this. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You told him.

“You sure?” Wonwoo didn’t look convinced. You nodded and waved to him as he hopped onto his bike and left. You took a deep breath and turned to him.

“I haven’t introduced myself to you, I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m actually here to let you know that your father’s lawyer will be going through his will and we would like for you to attend.” He stated.

“Seokjin sshi, I appreciate you coming all the way. But I thought I made myself clear, I don’t want anything to do with that man, his money and his company. I relinquish whatever was willed to me to you and the other 6, you can do whatever you wish to do.” You told him.

“We understand, (y/n) sshi. But your father has told us to tell you about some of your mother’s belongings being kept with his will. And even if you do relinquish all inheritance, you would need to sign off with the lawyer.” He informed.

“Wait, my mother’s belongings?”

“Yes. However, none of us know what those belongings are.” Seokjin was quick to add, sensing your rising anger.

“Even in death, he is trying to blackmail me. Why can’t he just leave me alone?” You clenched your fists, tears of frustration threatening to fall. Seokjin didn’t say anything about your statement.

“When is the damn lawyer meeting?” You asked him. He gave you the date and you nodded.

“Also, were you or your brothers the ones who told my university about the funeral? Because I, for sure, was not the one who told them.” You looked at him, throwing all politeness out the window.

“We thought it would be good for them to give you a few days off for the funeral procession and proceedings.”

“You all had no right to do that. Now, I have the whole university administration looking at me with pity, giving me allowance for things because I’m ‘grieving’. Well, I’m not grieving, I’m not sad that he’s gone. I feel nothing.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, (y/n) sshi. We should not have done that, it was an overstep on our part.” Seokjin apologised.

“Just please, don’t meddle with anything in my life anymore.” You pleaded. He nodded his head, face glum. Your words towards your father was cold and cruel but it wasn’t your fault.

“Is there anything else you need?” You were over this. You wanted to move on and not have anything related to that man in your life anymore.

“No. Have a nice day.” Seokjin wished and you walked into the house, shutting the door and locking it behind you. Seokjin looked up at the house, letting out a long sigh before going back into his car. No one ever dared to have such an attitude with them, being afraid of the repurcussions, but the boys knew that they couldn’t blame you.

This was thrown onto you out of nowhere and you have to deal with this on your own, face the unfamiliarity and confusion. It wasn’t fair to expect you to just accept everything as it is.

Jin drove all the way back home. He didn’t have an office to return to for work like the others since his room was his office.

“Young master Seokjin.” The butler opened the door for him and he tossed the keys to the valet to park his car in the garage for him. The first thing Jin saw when he entered the mansion was the boys playing poker.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” Jin rolled his eyes.

“Oh, hey hyung.” Taehyung said, not looking up from his cards or answering Jin’s question.

“You went to speak to her?” Yoongi asked from his spot by the bar, swirling his crystal glass with whiskey inside. Jin nodded, removing his suit jacket and dropping it on the couch before heading over.

“Needless to say, she’s pissed. She knows we told her university about her father.” Jin rolled up his sleeves, ready to fix himself a drink.

“Well, I would be too. We’re lucky she hasn’t beaten us up yet or something.” Jimin chuckled, his vape nestled between his fingers as he read his cards.

“Not everyone is like you, where they itch to beat people up, especially strangers. Boss always said that she and her mother were so gentle, wouldn’t even want to hurt a fly.” Hoseok scoffed. Namjoon emerged at the top of the stairs, coming down when he saw that Jin had returned.

“Did Namjoon send you cause he’s scared of her?” Yoongi teased.

“I’m not scared of her. It’s just that, so far, I have been the bearer of bad news. Plus, it might be good for her to start to know and recognise all of you too.” Namjoon shrugged.

“Yeah, cause Yoongi hyung offering her a cigarette is great for introductions.” Jungkook burst out laughing.

“Shut up. She looked stressed and I thought she would want one to help her calm down a little.” Yoongi glared at the youngest.

“Sure... Hyung, you do know that we were the cause of her stress in the first place, right?” Jimin added with a laugh. Yoongi rolled his eyes, sliding off the bar stool and walking up to his room, whiskey in his hand.

“Everything aside, she will attend the lawyer meeting. As expected, knowing her mother’s belongings are kept with the will, she agreed to come. Although, I do agree with her that this is blackmail.” Jin sighed. They couldn’t do much, they were following the orders of their late boss, who was insistent and firm on what to do when he passed.

“It’s just going to get more complicated when the will gets read.” Namjoon said.

“Wait. Hyung, you know what’s in the will?” Jungkook asked. Namjoon didn’t say anything else, grabbing a whiskey and going back upstairs.

“Enough playing. Get back to work.” Jin told the younger ones and went to his office. He turned on his entire system, the multiple computer monitors lighting up the room.

This was Jin’s job in the organisation. Nothing hides from him on the web. Any information that could be found online, he can find it. He could also hack any system, no firewall or security could stop him.

“Wow, good grades... But why haven’t you chosen your major?” Jin asked to no one in particular when he pulled up your university records.

“Security cameras... Entrance of the university.” He pulled up the footage. From the estimated time that you would be there, Jin watched the footage to look for you. Well, he wasn’t looking for you in particular. More of the person you were with.

“There you are.” Taking a screenshot of Wonwoo’s face, he enhanced it using his computer software and ran it through the university database.

“Jeon Wonwoo. Music major. No criminal record.” He scanned through Wonwoo’s records with the university. You were always described by your father as a lone wolf. So Jin couldn’t help but be curious after seeing how close you were with Wonwoo earlier.

“Hyung, who are you stalking?”

“Geez! You scared me!” Jin held a hand over his racing chest as Taehyung appeared beside him.

“I’ve got the change the passcode for my door.” Jin grumbled. Taehyung laughed, knowing that Jin’s attempt would be futile anyway. He always had a way to get to where he wanted to go.

“She has a boyfriend? He’s kind of handsome.” Taehyung noted as he looked at Wonwoo’s picture.

“He’s not her boyfriend. I just wanted to make sure that he won’t cause any trouble for us. His record is clean. They went to the same high school, it seems.” Jin reported.

“Even if he was trouble, we could easily handle it. You should finish your stack of work. I’ve got people hounding me for information.” Taehyung said, gesturing to the stack of folders on Jin’s desk that he had to work on.

“I’ll get to them soon. Now, get out. I don’t like people being in here.” The older pushed him out of the room, locking the door. Jin needed to be in the mood to do work and he hated people nagging him. Although, no one really said anything since he’s the oldest of the 7. Namjoon was the only one that could get him to do work.

“Got kicked out?” Jungkook tilted his head, seeing Taehyung stand in the hallway, outside Jin’s room. Taehyung nodded glumly.

“Tough luck, hyung.” Jungkook patted him on the shoulder and continued on his way. He went to his room to change out of his pajamas before going down to the garage.

“Jungkookie.” Jimin appeared as Jungkook was working on Hoseok’s car.

“What?” He grumbled. Like Jin, he didn’t really like anyone interrupting him, especially when he was working.

“I have a big event in 3 days so Hoseok is bringing a new car in for me to drive there. Do you think you could help me check it out and make sure it’s okay by then?” Jimin asked.

“What car?”

“A Valhalla.”

“Wait, Hoseok hyung got his hands on one? Only 999 were made and it’s super exclusive.” Jungkook was shocked.

“It’s Hoseok hyung. Of course he would be able to get it.” Jimin said. If you needed something, Hoseok would be able to get it for you. His connections spread far and wide.

“Sure, I’ll take a look at it when it comes. But I’ll need to do some research first. It uses a new hybrid battery system and a new bespoke V8 engine. First of its kind.” Jungkook was in awe. Jimin smirked, knowing how to get Jungkook interested in a project.

“I just need it for the event, you can drive it after the event.” He added. For most of the cars, the boys always shared amongst themselves anyway. The only cars that were not shared were their personal cars.

“Oh, I am definitely driving it after.” Jungkook declared.

“Great, glad to have you onboard. Hyung said that it’ll be delivered tomorrow.” Jimin informed. Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement.

“Thanks, Kook. Knew I could count on you.” He clapped happily and left the garage for Jungkook to get back to work.

“An Aston Martin Valhalla is going to be in our garage tomorrow.” Jungkook let out a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head. To say he was excited was an understatement.

Since Hoseok brought in such rare cars, they didn’t trust just anyone to maintain them. So Jungkook, with an interest in bikes and cars, took the job of making sure the cars are maintained and taken care of. He also fixed them when the other boys get them destroyed while doing a job outside. It was hard work but Jungkook loved his job.

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surelysilly · 7 months

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oct 16th: death echoes

It should've been an easy salt and burn to lay a couple spirits to rest. All it took was a couple stakeout sessions, not even a full day digging through the local library's obituaries, and they had their ghosts — two of the three local teens killed in a fiery lab explosion: Tucker Foley and Sam Manson.

part 1 / part 2 (here)

the lost and forgotten kids (lead them toward other tomorrows)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Danny Phantom, Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Language, Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Harm to Children, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Danny Fenton Died in The Portal Accident, Full Ghost Danny Fenton, Dead Sam Manson, Dead Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton Has an Electric Ghost Core

Summary:

Dean thinks Amity Park could be a cute, idyllic city if it wasn't haunted.

And by haunted, he means that metaphorically and literally. Nothing he can do about the first thing, but the second? Well, here's hoping him and Sam don't go breaking their streak on such a straightforward case.

(Or, an atypical salt and burn blurs the line between monster and not. Lab safety first, kids!)

#superphantom #danny phantom #danny phantom au #ectoberhaunt23 #eh magic #day 16 #death echoes #dp art #dp au #dp fic #batpoopart #batpoopwrite #this fic and art killed me goodnight #it's a desktop/vertical bg btw

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onsunnyside · 1 year

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🍁≬ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | photographer!Ari Levinson x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | glimpses of fluff, angst, old flames, childhood friends-to-loves aftermath, ex-boyfriend!Ari, size difference: 6’8!Ari.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Even the most beautiful love stories are bound to end in tragedy, but you thought you and Ari would be an exception.

𝗪/𝗖 | 3.64K

𝗔/𝗡 | currently in my sad autumn girl era but i know it won’t last long so i wanted to share this with you all. sort of poured my heart into it and wrote most of this in a teary haze last night. Inspired by Taylor Swift’s songs: Sad Beautiful Tragic, Exile, All Too Well, The Last Time. [𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 | all asks]. All mistakes are my own.

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Don’t look, don’t look, you force your eyes on the television mounted above the table, half listening to the chatter of your friends and the hushed music playing from the speakers.

A nudge brings your attention to your redheaded friend, “How have you been? You haven’t answered my texts.”

“Sorry, I’ve been working a lot.” The music shop didn’t get very busy, but Natasha didn’t need to know that you spent the past weeks buried in turmoil, revisiting every decision you’ve ever made that brought you here. “I also applied to the dance studio as an instructor, I’m still waiting for them to get back to me.”

Her green gaze pools with worry. Of course, you’d answer a question about how you were with what you were doing. She hated to pry, but she cared for you like a sister. If you were hurting, she wanted to put a stop to it, or talk about it and try to understand. She couldn’t do that if you refused to open up.

“If you want to leave, that’s fine, I’ll walk you out.”

“I’m okay, Nat. I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle seeing him again.”

The both of you know that’s a bald-faced lie. Especially because you’ve done everything to not peek in his direction.

Natasha is drawn away by one of your other close friends, and they fall into an easy conversation with laughs and bright smiles. Their voices fade into each other, a blissful hum filling the loneliness that has clung to you.

I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle seeing him again.

You spoke too soon.

Ever so slightly, you glance at the bar. Over the heads of the other patrons, his gaze meets yours. Deep blue, unreadable and sharp, piercing heavily through your face.

Seeing him now, he’s different. His hair is longer, his beard is thicker, and he’s dressed in clothes you’ve never seen before—apart from his signature leather jacket that he wore for most of the year.

You wonder if the way he carries himself all the same, with quiet grace and self-assurance, too often falling victim to his insecurities.

You missed him.

You missed his stupidly loud alarm clock, his cute bedhead and how he never failed to keep you warm on winter nights. You missed his endless rants about society, space and the world, past, present and future. His mind stretched into infinity, and you never always understood what he was saying, but you listened nonetheless. Listening was the best thing someone could do.

Your eyes fall on the loose and shaggy fabric around his neck. The cream knit was your first little home project, evident with the frayed threads and stubborn coffee stains. That single scarf took you a week because of your lack of experience. You worked on it everywhere, on the train, at work and the park. Your favourite place to knit was next to him as he hunched over his computer desk and went through hundreds of photographs with his glasses on the tip of his nose.

That was the one thing he didn’t mail back.

He goes around the table, handing out everyone’s selected drinks with greetings. “Sorry, I’m late. I got stuck at the studio with this last-minute family portrait session.”

“At least it wasn’t another self-proclaimed influencer.” Curtis snorts.

“Fuck no, thank goodness for that.” He laughs, almost too gleeful. When he gets to you, he simply sets the drink on the wooden countertop and flashes a tense smile.

It either took one or ten minutes for you to sip the drink before you rushed out the back door with an excuse about fresh air.

The cool, November air welcomes you with open arms as if it knew you wouldn’t last very long. You lean on the railing, distracting yourself with the red, orange and yellow trees across the way. The music and chatter fade into whispers, and the crickets and gentle wind take their place. Down below, the water ripples against the rocks, the wooden poles dark and green from the lake, another victim to time, just like everything else.

The fall season itself was a tale of death. The days got shorter because the sun comes and goes all too quickly and the leaves turn into different shades before falling to the ground. Bidding farewell in warm colour pallets and leave the trees bare, mere skeletons of life, dormant and dull.

Then, they’re reincarnated by spring. Brought back by more sunshine and warmth, blooming hues the world has longed for.

You wondered when your spring would come, or if you’d be trapped in perpetual autumn. Be forced to feel every part of you change into red, yellow or orange and fall until there is nothing left and you're in a barren comatose.

You stare down at your dress, the very one he said was his favourite. The soft blue silk is highlighted by the dim fairy lights hung up on the fence. Memories are woven into the fabric and they’re all good because you stopped wearing this dress when things got worse. With a brush of the lace hem, you’re reminded of him.

“I knew you’d look beautiful in this.”

“You have to stop buying me things, we have bills to pay.”

He scoffs, “bills aren’t going to help my girl realize how beautiful she is.” He takes your hand, pressing his plump lips on your knuckles, “I know it, the world knows it, but she doesn’t. And that isn’t okay with me.”

The door swings open and slams into the wall, making you jump.

“Oh shit, sorry!” His voice rings out, “Didn’t mean to scare you, I thought the door was heavier.”

You quickly wipe your eyes, not caring about your makeup anymore. You tried hard to look your best tonight and embody that healed person you’ve pretended to be for the past few weeks. But he couldn’t say hi or your name. Why couldn’t he say your name?

He tucks away his cigarettes, “You stay, I’ll go out front. You probably want to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to call a cab.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Natasha knows I have an early morning.” You keep it simple and duck away from his gaze, hugging your purse close as some sort of lifesaver that was keeping you from floating into the sky. Truthfully, you wouldn’t mind that abrupt escape after hearing his next words.

“Wait—I mean, I’ll wait with you. It’s too late for you to be outside by yourself.”

Your stride doesn’t slow, you hope he’ll get the hint and just go back inside, but with his mile-long legs, he easily catches up to you. His boots land heavily on the boardwalk and the buckles of his leather jacket chime, filling the strained silence.

“So, did you see that new cinema downtown?”

“Please don’t.”

He raises his arms in defence, a smile audible in his voice, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you hated movies.”

“Ari.” Your shoulders slump and the sorrow gets heavier. You swear the world could cave under your feet. “Don’t try to—” You cut yourself off, knowing if you didn’t get away now, you’d regret it, “I want to be alone right now.”

The pine trees sway in the breeze, surrounding you with their natural scent.

He takes one hesitant step back, nodding slowly. “Right, I’m probably the last person you want to see.”

He couldn’t be more wrong and that only worsened the pain. How could he think that when he was the only person you wanted to see every day for over a decade?

It stretches far back to when you were children and living down the street from each other.

How could he think that when you used to wait out on the porch for him to pass by so you could walk to school together? How could he think that when you’ve spent hundreds of hours writing about his face in your diaries, about how his smile could light up a stadium and how his eyes were endless pools of stories and wishes?

How could he?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Ari’s features grow concerned as the hot tears stream down your cheeks. “It’s okay—” He reaches for you, gently grasping your hand.

“No, it’s not.” You try to shrug him off, not bothering to wipe your face. He knew you were crying out here anyway. He knew you more than he knew himself, so it wouldn’t surprise you if he also knew what you were thinking right now—where did he find the audacity to say it’s okay? “I’m sad—I’m still so sad. And you aren’t.”

Ari stiffens and releases your hand as if he’d been burned. His cerulean eyes are shaded by the night, and darkness bleeds onto his solemn face, “You think I’m not sad?”

You tearily blink, waving towards the bar by the lake. “You seemed pretty happy in there—and you acted like you didn’t even know me.”

Sure, you probably would’ve cried if he spoke to you, but at least he would have acknowledged you. You’d take that glimmer of attention over his silence any day.

“I was—I am heartbroken.” He confesses, his long hair falling over his forehead as he stares down at you, “I didn’t know if you wanted me to talk to you—”

“Yet you followed me out here anyway.”

Even in the moonlight, you can see his cheeks turn cherry red.

“Okay, but I was checking on you. I didn’t mean for this to happen and to make you cry.” He protests, “Am I not allowed to worry about you?”

You close your eyes and shake your head, turning on your heel to continue down the boardwalk. The main street mocks you in the distance, beckoning you with yellow streetlights and the chance to escape, but his fingers wrap around your wrist, holding tightly.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry.”

His touch is warm and familiar, the other end of the double-edged sword. On one end is the busy street, the carefree people living their lives on this fall evening, the cars driving by, and your bittersweet freedom—but also your lonely apartment with your cold, empty bed. The other end, the one entwining with your trembling fingers, is suffocatingly soft and inviting. Enticing you to stay and listen, but at what cost? Would it only bring more suffering draped in so-called closure or more confusion that your heart couldn’t take?

“Muse—”

“Don’t.”

He inhales deeply and you feel his breath on the back of your head. “I’m devastated, I’m alone, I’m stuck in this disordered loop that I don’t know how to get out of.” His grip constricts, once then twice but you force yourself to stay as unresponsive as a corpse. “You were my first for everything, I-I wanted you to be my last.”

You knew that and you wanted the same thing. You’ve discussed it countless nights in your shared bed, whispering about the possibilities that the great big world offered, from tamed to outlandish. Picking up a strange hobby, or travelling the globe, he even mentioned moving to a new country altogether, “think about it. A fresh start, just the two of us and unlimited options.”

“I wouldn’t say unlimited, unfamiliar sounds more accurate.”

“Pick a place, any place and I’ll make it happen.”

“What if I don’t tell you and just take off alone? Soak up all that freshness by myself.”

“Oh, then I’ll find you. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Experiencing things for the first time together was a big part of your relationship. You were both painstakingly sentimental, which only made it harder to pack your things. Everything reminded you of what was or what could’ve been, you eventually decided to keep what you needed and throw out what carried tender nostalgia.

You never followed through with that, but you do avoid the many boxes stacked in your closet. Full of pictures, gifts, and anything that reminded you of him. That was where you found this dress.

From the seedlings of memorable firsts, it was inevitable that you two gave each other your first heartbreaks too.

The tears come back with vengeance, spilling down your heated cheeks, “You ended things.”

“You walked out!” He rushes to apologize, swerving in front of you before you could take another step. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just please, listen to me.”

Why? He never listened to you in the end.

Whenever you brought up concerns about weird tension or the growing emptiness, he never listened. He was all about work and brushed off dates for last-minute gigs. You knew he wanted a greater future for the two of you, something better than your crowded apartment with your roommates (now the close friends in the bar), and something brighter than the stars combined.

You tried to understand and a part of you did, but the other part couldn’t take it anymore. The part that missed your boyfriend, missed your mindless conversations and quiet nights at home, and when he picked up that camera and photographed you like a piece of art.

That part of you won. You laid down your weapons and went defenceless into his line of fire, with only your heart in your hands and a rehearsed speech in your head.

You never made it all the way through because you two started arguing, right in front of your friends, spitting accusations fueled by rage and doubt, making each other into the bigger villain when it was always clear who was the culprit.

Even now, although you know it’s him, you wonder if you were an accomplice.

Childhood sweethearts turned college lovers, plenty of people have made it all the way—to whatever was their ideal. Many people have also given up, gotten tired, or fallen out of love.

You thought you and Ari were stronger than that, and you wouldn’t let the pressures of life, work, and school weigh onto your relationship. But in the end, those voices were always right, and your shared dreams were crushed at the hands of breakdowns, lost time, and agonizing lulls.

It was ironic how you’re haunted by voices while Ari rarely used his.

Ari wasn’t loud or interruptive. He was quiet and timid, and as he grew up, he slowly came out of his shell and matured into the tall, confident, and gentle giant in front of you.

When you were kids, he wrote adorably misspelled sentences on sticky notes to drop into your lunchbox, and then in high school, he wrote love letters to slip into your locker. The sweetest part was that he never signed them, yet you always suspected it was him. He pretended to be curious about your newest note from your secret admirer and asked about the contents, all the itty bitty details of the proclamation in black pen.

He was after your heart, and he surely got it.

He showed his love through touch, gestures and gifts, through photographs and love letters that were kept in a special box.

It was beautiful in a way that only broken poets, starved artists and silenced lovers could understand. And you and Ari were all three. The tragedy was in colours no one else could see, the script in an undiscovered language, but to you and all the rest of the heartbroken, it was so vivid and clear. You dipped your fingers into that magic shade and poured your heart onto the white walls of the lonely tower, mourning your knight who would never return.

You made the tragedy your home, wallowed in it, and pitied yourself over every missed opportunity—the fleeted moments where things could have changed, leading you somewhere different from where you were. But you tried to get better, to get clean of him and those noisy, unhelpful thoughts. You wanted to save yourself, to gather the guts to leave that tower and climb down to the lush grass and sparkling rivers below.

In delusions, you are happy and satisfied, sober from the destruction. But right now, that false comfort was cracking beneath your feet. You wished to board up the windows and hide away from the world, from him.

“Will you please listen to me?” He pleads, his voice thick, “just listen, you don’t have to say anything or even stay afterward.”

“Why?” You turn to him, gritting your teeth to keep from sobbing. “Why should I listen to you when you never listened to me? When I told you that were growing apart, you just pushed me further away. Does—” Your voice cracks, “Does that not seem unfair to you?” Did you not deserve the same mercy he was begging for?

It was too late if he wanted to listen this time. It was gone, flatlined, buried under the dirt with overgrown weeds and ivy climbing on the gravestone. Your names were etched into the stone, just another miserable end in the cemetery of the heartbroken, the battered and bruised, the forgotten and silenced.

You’ve been a ghost ever since he mailed back the things you thought he wanted. Transparent and floating through the graveyard, weeping in wonder, and feebly searching for that scarf—the one thing he kept.

“I won’t ask again. This is the last time, Ari. You won’t get another chance.”

He opens and closes his mouth multiple times, rethinking every thought racing in his head, but then he finally settles on shutting his mouth. Those plump lips pressed firmly together, a barrier for everything he should say—and everything you had the right to hear.

Defeated, you release his hand. You didn’t realize you were holding him too, it was all just automatic at this point, unlike this moment which is only a rerun of a film you’ve already seen.

Your gaze traces his face one last time, locking everything to memory from the curve of his dark eyebrows, the shade of his blue eyes, the point of his nose, the blush pink of his lips, and every freckle like they were constellations.

In a flash, you’re staring at him from across the classroom, watching him slowly write on a yellow sticky note, his tongue poking from between his teeth in concentration.

Another flash, and you’re watching him bolt down the hallway, passing lockers and other students with his azure eyes set on you. In his hand is an old polaroid camera and he’s wearing the widest grin, “Let’s go to the park.” He almost crashes into you but grasps your shoulder in excitement, illuminating the dull hallway with his glow.

You laugh, “I have class… and so do you.”

“Yeah, but the weather is so nice today.” He pouts, already tugging you towards one of the exits. “Plus, you look really pretty. Wouldn’t you rather be my model, than sit in some dusty old classroom?”

He kissed you that day, under the biggest willow tree in the park with his hand on your cheek. He blushed a nervous red and asked so sweetly, “Can I—May I please…” He trailed off, profusely blinking at your parted lips, “Will you let me b-be your first kiss? And will you be mine?”

And finally, you’re back in the present. His looming shadow as he towers over your lifeless frame, executed by the quiet and unspoken words. You’d take anything at this point, from shuddering pleas to choked apologies—you’d grovel for a single syllable.

“That’s it.” You scoff in disbelief, “all you can do is look at me?”

Again, silence. His eyes pool with tears, seconds away from streaming down his cheeks and matching your wet trails and ruined makeup. He doesn’t speak, but he’s breaking, cracking at the surface like delicate porcelain holding back a flood.

“You deserve better than me.”

No, he doesn’t get to decide that. He doesn’t get to use that stale statement to dig his own grave, right alongside yours before the final self-deprecating eulogy. It didn’t matter if he thought you deserved better than him, all that should matter was that you wanted him, that you still wanted him even after all of this.

“So, you’re just gonna let me go? After all we’ve been through?” After you’ve given him everything, and showed him every part of you and let him in.

The first tear falls, dripping down his beard and onto the worn knit. Then another, and another until they’re streaming down his cheeks and soaked up by the scarf. “You’re already gone.”

There it is, the last nail in the coffin.

Ari has never been aggressive or forceful, but you wished he’d be brave. You wished he’d fight for you, step into the battlefield with an unrelenting resolve to make things right—to get you back. But he doesn’t, he just looks down at you, chewing on his lip with clenched fists.

He’s surrendered to the war, abandoning you in the tower of tragedy, but joining you in the cemetery of the heartbroken. He’s signing his name on the death certificate and damning you and your wistful dreams, erasing every ‘what if’ that has plagued the both of you since you were children.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and fight the weakness in your knees, but you refuse to do this to yourself again, to give him a chance he won’t take. You turn around and continue down the dock, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself in a form of self-soothing.

Autumn was a story of demise, but it had to be better than the earsplitting silence. You’d take the cruel cold and neverending abyss over the lack of effort. Right now, there was no spring in sight, no rebirth to raise you from the dead but you’d find your own life someday and somehow without him. You had to save yourself, be your own hero and come out victorious—alone, but triumphant.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i’ve already started a part two for those of us who want a happy ending, so if you’re an angsty person, feel free to just leave it at this part. i’ll let you all know when i have a date. this is also my second time writing angst on here, and i had a few good cry sessions. i know this isn't the usual filth but i hope you all enjoyed this nonetheless.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! i love you all very much. pls take this kith 😚🫶

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! [my inbox] <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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