#do you know that longing for an old home?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery VIII

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to the cat shelter

If Ingrid was getting you a cat then she would do it properly.

She'd researched cat shelters. She'd found one that had a recent intake of kittens.

A cat was a lifelong friend and you and your cat deserved to grow up together.

She'd contacted the shelter and arranged a visit.

Ingrid knew today would be the day you got your cat so she'd prepared with a carrier and some blankets. She'd expected you to get attached to the kittens, to want to keep all of them and she'd already planned out a speech on why you could only have one, two if they were particularly closely bonded.

Somehow, the alternative was much worse.

You hadn't gotten attached to the kittens at all. You'd had a lot of fun playing with them but none had sparked a bond with you.

So, Ingrid resigned herself to you having a full grown cat as your companion. It wasn't the growing up together idea she had planned but that was okay.

Ingrid watches as you go through the rows of enclosures full of cats. She's content to let you and Mapi take the lead, equally as excited as each other and feeding off each other's energy.

You gasp and Ingrid looks up from her phone.

"I love them!"

At first, Ingrid is glad that you've found a cat that you seem to like but then she looks at Mapi and goes pale. Mapi's eyes are wide and she's furiously shaking her head at Ingrid.

Mapi can deny you nothing so Ingrid knows it's up to her to guide you away from this decision.

Though she isn't quite sure why Mapi isn't happy that you've found your forever friend.

Well...maybe because it's not one forever friend but two.

Ingrid's face mimics Mapi's perfectly as she peers into the cage.

Two cats sit inside.

One is truly a monstrosity. It's massive with long, ginger fur and a tuft that reaches all around its neck like a mane. Its face is reminiscent of a lion as well, all regal and judgemental.

The second is also a ginger tabby but the size of a regular cat. Or, it would be if it wasn't the fattest cat Ingrid has ever seen. It's practically a circle and she wonders briefly how it's even supporting its own weight as it wanders over to where you've stuck your fingers through the arms.

"I see you've found our gingers."

Ingrid nearly screams as one of the shelter workers approach.

"They were surrendered by a nice old lady who couldn't care for them anymore."

Mapi scoffs. "Yeah, looks like she really cared for them." She's pointedly looking at the chunky cat that has now rolled onto its back for belly tickles that you strain through the bars to give it.

The shelter worker winces. "Yeah, he's a little fat, isn't he?"

"Not fat!" You snap," Cuddle sized!"

The worker laughs a little bit. "He does give good cuddles. But he's on a weight loss program. Believe it or not he was much larger when he arrived."

Ingrid can't believe it because this cat is truly round and she can't imagine it being fatter than it is now.

"And of course, we've got his young friend there. They were surrendered together so they're very attached. They're bonded so we can't let one go without the other."

"Here that, cub?" Ingrid decides to break it to you now. "We can't bring one of them home without the other. Say goodbye now and we'll go and look at the kittens again."

You pout, drawing your hand away from the fat cat. "Bye-bye."

You turn to leave, Mapi already halfway across the room to see the kittens again before a loud yowling chirp freezes you in your tracks.

The big lion cat keeps warbling until you turn to face it.

"Sorry," You say," Mama says we can't take you away from each other."

As if he knows who to blame, the lion cat hisses at Ingrid before purring as he rubs his body across the bars of the cage. His fat companion remains flopped on his back in invitation (though Ingrid's ninety percent sure it's because he's so fat that he can't actually get up again).

Ingrid tries to guide you away but the lion cat keeps calling for your attention and the fat cat stays on his back for belly tickles.

She looks at Mapi for help.

"No," She says, catching Mapi's apologetic look," Mapi, no. He's fat and the other one is a monstrosity."

"Ingrid..."

"Mapi! You can't be serious!"

"We agreed on getting her a cat."

"Yes, a cat! One cat!"

"You said two at a stretch," You say quite unhelpfully. Over the course of the argument, you've somehow gotten into the cage and are sitting on the floor happily as you give the fat cat belly tickles while the monster sits in your lap.

"Oh, yeah, you did say that Ingrid."

"Mapi, whose side are you on right now?"

"Er...I'll be quiet. Cub, if you want the cats you need to convince Ingrid."

"I won't be convinced."

You stay silent for a long while even as Ingrid tries to get you moving.

Eventually, you stand and approach her. The fat cat is dangling from your hands as you present him like baby Simba. The lion cat sits at your feet, teeth bared in warning should Ingrid deny you.

"I love them!" You tell Ingrid earnestly," They're both cuddle sized and I love them a lot!"

"Cub," Ingrid says," They might be mean to Bagheera. You don't want Bagheera to feel sad, do you?"

"Actually," The damned shelter worker says," They're both perfectly good with other cats."

"Well..." Ingrid desperately tries to come up with another excuse.

"Mama," You say," Please?" Your eyes glisten with unshed tears as the fat cat mews pitifully at Ingrid.

She sighs.

"Cub, if I let you-"

"Mami! Mama's letting me keep them!" You tell Mapi triumphantly who gives you the biggest fake smile in the world.

"That's great, Cub!" She tells you before muttering under her breath to Ingrid," How could you let this happen?! The monster is going to kill me in my sleep! And the fat one is going to eat all our food!"

"How is this my fault?!" Ingrid hisses back, already reaching to take the paperwork," You're the one that left it up to me!"

"Because you're meant to be the strong one! We both know I would have caved much earlier! Why couldn't you be strong, Ingrid? Why?"

Ingrid signs her name on all of the papers and sighs. "Because she was about to cry and the monster looked like he was about to bite me."

Both of them turn to look at where you're still cuddling with the fat one. The monster is staring back at them, unblinking as it flicks its ear dismissively.

"Are we sure that's a cat?" Mapi checks," I think we should call the zoo."

"It might eat us before that..."

You seem happy though, a beaming smile on your face all the way home.

Both cats make themselves at home. The fat one finds Bagheera's usual sunspot and flops down. His whole body stretches out as he snoozes easily.

The monster immediately jumps onto the kitchen counters to survey his new kingdom and you dart around setting out the new bowls and toys before grinning at Ingrid and Mapi, who are awestruck at how brazen these new cats are.

Bagheera seems to be similarly shocked and a tad judgemental as she pokes her head out of her cat tree to stare.

"He is Garfield," You point at the fat one," Because he is round and cuddle sized." You point at the monster. "And that's León because he is my little lion."

In no way would Ingrid describe that cat as little.

Mapi, for the first time today, decides to be helpful. "You can't call him León," She says," That's our surname. He's León León."

You nod. "I know. It's a pretty name for a pretty lion."

Ingrid wouldn't describe him as pretty either.

"Garfield and León-León," You say with an air of finality," Mami, Mama, thank you for my kitties!"

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

[pucksandpower]

Hydrate or Diedrate

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: after an issue with his car leaves Charles racing without water for the entire Miami Grand Prix, he wants to hydrate with something only you can give him

Warnings: 18+ content and lactation

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the paddock after the race. Charles had an eventful day, managing to bring his Ferrari home in P3 despite having no water in his car for the entire Grand Prix.

You spot him being interviewed by the broadcast team, sweat still glistening on his face and his hair matted to his forehead. Though he seems coherent, you can tell he’s feeling the effects of the dehydration.

As soon as the interview wraps, you rush over and take his arm. “Come on, let’s get you out of this heat.”

Charles gives you a grateful smile. “I’m fine, I promise.”

You shake your head sternly. “Don’t give me that. You’re clearly dehydrated.” You glance around and wave over Charles’ best friend. “Can you take Jules for a bit?”

Joris nods and gladly takes your four-month-old son from your arms, expertly cradling the bundled infant. “Of course, go take care of him.”

You guide Charles into the air-conditioned Ferrari motorhome and down the hall to his driver’s room, closing and locking the door behind you. Charles immediately faceplants onto the couch with a groan.

“It was so hot out there. I could barely see straight those last few laps,” he mumbles into the cushion.

You settle onto the couch next to him, rubbing his back soothingly. “I know, I could see it on the screens. You did amazing to hang on for that P3.”

Charles rolls over onto his back, squinting up at you. “Do we have any water in here?”

“Of course.” You grab a bottle from the mini-fridge and hand it to him.

He wastes no time downing half of it in one long gulp. “Ahh, that’s better.” His eyes drift down to your chest, where your nursing bra peeks out from under your shirt. “Actually … I have an even more effective idea for rehydrating.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Charles sits up, a playful glint in his eyes as he sets the water bottle aside. He reaches for you, bunching the fabric of your shirt in his fists. “This.”

With one deft tug, he frees your breasts from the confines of your top. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in the sight.

“You know that’s not really what they’re for, right?” You tease, trying not to get too flustered.

Charles scoots closer until your bodies are flush together. His hands roam over your chest reverentially. “I think this is the perfect use for them.”

You shiver at his touch, arousal already beginning to pool in your core. “I don’t know, they’re usually just for feeding Jules ...”

“Well, think of this as multi-purpose.” Charles leans in to press kisses along the swell of your breasts.

Despite your banter, you’re already melting under his touch. “I … ah … I suppose you could use some rehydrating.”

With a low hum of approval, Charles takes one rigid peak into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it firmly, coaxing out the first few drops of your milk.

A soft gasp escapes your lips at the wet heat of his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his sweat-damp curls to hold him close. “Charlie ...”

He only responds by increasing the suction, hungrily drawing more of your sweet essence. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he switches to your other breast, lavishing it with the same rapt attention.

All too soon, Charles pulls back with a satisfied smack of his lips, chin and mouth glistening. “Delicious ...”

“You have no idea how hot that was,” you pant, completely transfixed by the erotic image he makes.

A cocky grin tugs at the corner of Charles’ mouth. “Oh, I think I do.” He presses his palm to the front of his race suit, making it obvious just how aroused he is. “Want to help me with this?”

“Absolutely,” you purr, pushing him back against the arm of the couch to straddle his lap.

Charles groans as you grind down against the hard bulge in his suit. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one.” You lean in to capture his lips in a heated kiss, all tongue and teeth.

One of Charles’ hands threads into your hair to angle your mouth more firmly against his. The other drifts down to grope your ass, pulling your hips flush with his.

You rock against him shamelessly, addicted to the delicious friction. He meets each grind with a roll of his own hips, quickly reducing you both to panting, needy messes.

“I want you,” Charles rasps against your lips. “Need to be inside you ...”

“Yes ...” You fumble for the zipper of his suit, desperate to free him. “God, yes, take me ...”

He surges up to kiss you again, all heat and urgency and unbridled want. You can taste the tang of your own milk on his tongue and it’s so dirty, so sinfully hot that it makes your head spin.

Finally, you manage to tug the fire-retardant fabric down far enough to free Charles’ straining erection. He hisses at the friction of your hand on his bare length.

“Hurry, mon amour,” he pleads, deft fingers already working to divest you of your underwear. “Need to be inside you ...”

No sooner is the scrap of lace pushed aside than Charles is guiding himself to your entrance. You sink down in one endless slide, stretching deliciously around his girth to take him to the hilt.

“Fuck ...” He bucks up into you with a choked groan.

You whimper at the exquisite fullness, rolling your hips to take him even deeper. Already you can feel the tight heat beginning to gather low in your belly.

Charles grips your hips hard enough to bruise, guiding your movements as you start to bounce on his length. His head falls back against the couch with a thump, mouth falling open in ecstasy.

“You feel so incredible,” he pants, meeting your thrusts with shallow rolls of his own hips. “So hot, so tight ...”

“Only for you,” you gasp out between moans, bracing your hands on his heaving chest.

He slides one calloused palm up to toy with your neglected breast, rolling the stiff peak between his fingertips. You cry out at the new stimulation, walls fluttering around him.

“Going to come just like this,” Charles grunts, increasing the pace. “Make such a mess of you.”

The thought of him painting you with his release has you clenching down hard. You ride him with wild abandon now, chase that electric high.

Charles leans up to suckle at your other breast, drinking you down greedily even as his hips snap up to meet yours. “Yes, just like that, fuck!”

With a broken shout, your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. Every muscle locked rigid, toes curled, as molten bliss washes over you in waves. Charles follows a beat later, still thrusting fitfully as he spills deep inside you with a guttural growl.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are your harsh pants mingling together as you float down from your highs. Charles peppers sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and neck, gradually gentling the movement of your joined bodies.

“Incredible,” he murmurs against your salty skin. “Absolutely incredible.”

You hum in satiated agreement, nosing at his hairline. Eventually you pull back far enough to take in his thoroughly debauched state — hair wild, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red.

So beautifully wrecked because of you.

“Feeling rehydrated now?” You can’t resist teasing.

Charles lets out a breathless chuckle, warm palms sliding up and down your back. “More than I could have ever imagined.”

But the sound of the door opening makes you both freeze.

“Oh mon dieu!” Joris exclaims with a bark of laughter, looking thoroughly amused as he stands in the doorway cradling Jules. “I was just coming to return your son, but it looks like you two are already hard at work on the next one!”

You yelp and scramble to cover yourself as Charles groans in embarrassment, burying his rapidly reddening face against your chest.

Joris is already backing out of the room, Jules blissfully unaware as he continues chuckling to himself. “Never mind, never mind! I’ll just leave you lovebirds to it ...”

The door clicks shut and you can’t help but dissolve into nervous giggles against Charles’ shoulder. He joins in, the rumble of his laughter vibrating between your bodies.

“Well, that was mortifying,” he says once you’ve both calmed down some.

“At least Jules is too young to understand.” You press your smile to Charles’ hair. “Though Joris is never going to let us live that down.”

Charles groans again, but you can see the beginnings of a sheepish grin. “I don’t even care. That was more than worth the embarrassment.”

He tightens his embrace around you, settling in to simply enjoy the closeness for a while longer. You’re inclined to agree — a little teasing is a small price to pay for such blissful rehydration.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: New Management

It starts off small, in controlled, barely noticeable areas of Gotham.

Over days, the litter and trash vanish, the sidewalks are washed and cleaned, and even building yards long since abandoned are trimmed. No one notices at first because Gotham is so used to ignoring how dirty everything is until Poison Ivy makes a public announcement thanking the person who cleaned up Gotham's parks.

You know, while she was tearing up that one street with her vine monster.

After the Bats had her locked away pending a trial, they stopped to look around and realized, yes, someone had been cleaning house. No one really knows who, but things have started to change. Streetlights are replaced, graffiti is painted over, and cracked windows are fixed. It's a nice thought, but all this had the gangs up in arms, especially when their tagging disappeared.

To control the goodie-two-shoes, a few gangs burn down a few local parks- mostly the ones near or around Crime Alley- and they also loot the smaller businesses. It's a warning that the mystery housekeeper should be reminded of their station, but- well, it's all for nothing because, like magic, the following night, the damage is repaired and somehow better than before.

What's crazy is the water change. Everyone notices that right away.

Gotham's water system was just as corrupted and descriptive as its class system. If you were one of the elites- your water was clean and crisp- if you were one of the poor- your water was practically tar with how contaminated it was. Anyone in between got a fifty-fifty chance of drinkable water, depending on what side of the city they lived on.

It became an identifier, really. Depending on how often you were seen at stores buying bottled water, people could tell how well off your family was.

That's why, on a random Wednesday, Gotham lost their collective mind that the entire water system was fixed. Regardless of class, every household had clear, scent-free water from the tabs.

The few who wandered outside trying to figure out what in the world was happening were left stunned at the sight of Gotham's surrounding bodies of water.

They were clean.

All the rivers, the harbors, the silly little fountains found around Old Gotham- everything. It was safe to swim in them now. That was just wrong.

"What's happening?" Jason growls, crouching at one of Wayne Manor's main windows. His eyes are barely visible over the edge, allowing him to peek out into the yard, but he must not be fully visible, lest he become a target.

"I don't know," Tim hisses, taking a similar position on the second floor. He grips the communicator with a white-knuckle grip, trying his best to ground himself. "I just don't know. There are no witnesses, no evidence, no clues whatsoever on who's doing this to the city!"

"I don't like this!"

"No one does, Jason," Bruce intervenes; the accompanying sound of keys typing is familiar background noise. He's still in the cave, attempting to run through all reports of horrified Gothamites on social media, trying to find a pattern. "Babs? Do you have any new updates?"

"No!" She hisses, her typing sounding far more aggressive. "I can't find anything on those responsible. Nothing on the internet, nothing on public camera feeds, and nothing on rumors through dark web chats. It's like I'm trying to track a ghost!"

"This isn't natural, B," Steph cuts in. She's hiding in her bedroom closet, voice low in case her mom hears. After they realize some new lunatic is running loose in Gotham, her mom calls her back home to barricade them. If they had a bomb shelter, they would have been in it long ago.

"It's worse than we think," Duke huffs. He's somewhere near the top floor, having chosen a higher vantage point, hoping his meta powers would spot someone coming towards the manor. "I think I see glimpses of blue in the sky. If this continues at this rate, we'll have a clear blue sky in about two hours."

Multiple gasps of horror are heard throughout the communication lines. Bruce starts to type faster, barking orders for everyone to remain where they are and not go gather information. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

Damian stands with a confused Cass, Dick, and Alfred. The only bats not originated from Gotham, so while they can claim to have years in the city, none of them truly know. "I do not understand. Is this not beneficial to Gotham?"

"It may be too much at once, Master Damian." The Bulter tells him carefully. He only speaks that slowly when Alfred thinks of every word before saying it. "Whoever is behind this must not be from Gotham. If they were, they know that people would lose their collective minds upon the improvements."

"But who could be responsible?" Cass asks, watching Jason duck and army crawl to a new window once some sunlight manages to break through the clouds where he was originally hiding.

"I wish I knew Miss Cass."

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton leans back in his computer chair in a dimension of hope and a skip away. He laces his fingers together, bending them until satisfying cracks are heard. It was a productive hour of work, but he thinks now that his virtual city had cleaner water, his NPCs should start healing and developing better.

He was suspicious of Madam Gotham—a new ghost that appeared within his territory of the Ghost Zone—but after a quick conversation, he decided to befriend her. Danny is glad he did, seeing as she was in danger of fading away. Her core had suffered severe damage due to denying her obsession for so long.

Danny could do nothing for her. Madam Gotham needed professional help that only certain Yetis could offer. Although the Yetis usually turned away anyone not of their kind, with Danny backing her up, they had been willing to take in Madam Gotham.

She had been stubborn, though, refusing to get help because she was too busy playing her silly little game. The computer she played it on was unique to her realm and could not withstand the cold temeture of the Far Frozen. Danny was literally watching her melt—a horrific reminder of Dani and her siblings' disabling—before he could take it anymore.

Only after agreeing to watch her video game did she decide to be moved to the Far Frozen to receive medical treatment. Now, Danny never really liked those farming simulator games, but this was different in the sense that the city was already there.

His job was to further develop the city into a utopia. It was interesting to learn what modern issues the city had and how he could make decisions based on point costs on what to fix.

He gained points from making his citizens happier, supporting the Bats—the city's defenders—or choosing to develop options that significantly raised the value of his city.

It was rather addicting, really. He could see how Madam Gotham got so sucked in, even though it didn't really have much action for him to make. Mostly, he would let his citizens react to his new choices and use his points to delete trash and gunk.

There were some side quests he liked to work on, too, like helping certain citizens with drug addiction, depression, anxiety, or anger issues. Danny has no idea why Madam Gotham allowed so many to develop so badly, so every day, he would give them all one good luck point to brighten their days.

He had three full tabs of characters, a brief explanation of their lives, and whatever issues Danny could make them go through. He would tackle the number of homeless youth next by fixing up the city's affordable housing and infrastructure.

It was a bit narcissistic of Madam Gotham to name her game town "Gotham City," but it's better than any name Danny could have come up with.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #New Managment #Part 1 #Danny is playing sims with Gotham #Everyone Gotham born is freaking out #It's not natrual #Gotham was actively making things worse for them #Danny is not aware that he's a managing a actual city

[7ndipity]

"Tell Me You're Mine"

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi’s always been secure in his relationship with you, but what happens when you and your childhood friend, Jin, start spending a little too much time together after he moves in next door?

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, possessive dom Yoongi, subby reader, light choking, marking, oral(fem rec), unprotected sex(don’t do this pls), spanking, pregnancy mention,

A/n: Thanks to @bangtansmauyeondan for this request! I had a lot of fun writing this one, it got away from me and came out a lil more fluffy than angsty tho. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Yoongi quietly let himself in the front door, a sigh of relief slipping out involuntarily as the familiar scents and sounds of your home filled his senses. Your favorite scented candle, the faint hum of the washing machine down the hall, Holly’s tiny snores from his napping spot on the couch.

Tiredly making his way through the house, he finally felt himself relax as he found you in the kitchen, coming up behind you as you were washing ingredients for dinner and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, tucking his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

“Hi.” He mumbled.

“Hey.” You giggled, turning enough to connect your lips to his in greeting, grinning at his tired expression. “Long day?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, rubbing face against the material of your shirt. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good, I went with Jin to help him pick out some new things for his place.” You said, missing the way Yoongi’s body tensed ever so faintly against yours, his mouth twitching down into a grimace.

Jin was an old friend of yours from school, whom he’d met once or twice over the years and who seemed like a really nice guy, but since he had moved in next door to the two of you, Yoongi had found himself disliking him more and more.

There was nothing wrong with him really, he was polite, funny, charming, you loved spending time with him.

Actually, that was what was wrong with him.

Yoongi had never really been the clingy type or easily jealous, it was something he had rather prided himself in, knowing that the two of you had complete faith and trust in each other. Which is why you hanging out with your old friend shouldn’t have bothered him so much, and originally it didn’t.

But then one afternoon had turned into another, and another.

Yoongi knew deep down that there was nothing to worry about, you and Jin were just friends, but he couldn’t help his growing sense of unease. It was starting to feel like you were spending more time with Jin than with your own husband.

As if to prove his point, your phone suddenly pinged next to you on the counter, the screen lighting up to show a text from Jin, followed by another, and then another.

Thanks again for today

I had a lot of fun

Yk I’d have been lost without you, lol💙

It was an insignificant little thing, but that little emoji caused something inside of Yoongi to snap.

Before you could even glance at your phone, Yoongi had spun you around, pinning you between him and the sink, his hands tightly gripping your waist.

He crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your muffled whimper of surprise. Immediately his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

You pushed back, gasping for breath. "Babe, what-”

"Come. Here." Yoongi's eyes bore into yours, almost black with lust, silencing any argument from you.

You went lax in his hold, allowing him to close the gap between you again, kissing you with all the passion he could muster.

He nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, letting out a huff of satisfaction as he tasted you, tangling his tongue with yours.

As he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of your hip with one hand, the other slid from the back of your neck around to rest against your throat, squeezing just enough to make you let out a whimper, the sound muffled by his mouth still firmly glued to yours.

Yoongi pushed you up onto the counter, your legs spreading enough for him to slot between, his mouth only leaving yours to continue his assault on your neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin and making you mewl as he ground his hardening length against your clothed core.

"I thought- thought you were tired?" You panted, struggling to catch your breath.

"Don’t care, need you." He groaned, sucking harshly on the spot below your ear that made your mind go hazy.

As his hands began to fumble with your shirt, your phone rang beside you on the counter, Jin’s name illuminated on the screen, making Yoongi’s blood boil.

Before you could ever process what was happening, Yoongi had grabbed the phone and accepted the call.

“We’re fucking busy right now.” He growled, hanging up and slamming the phone down on the counter again.

“Y-Yoongi, what the-” Your words were cut off by his mouth on yours again.

“I’ll make you forget his fucking name.” He swore, dropping to his knees in front of you.

He shoved your skirt up, yanking your underwear to the side before diving straight into your dripping cunt.

He groaned at how soaked you already were for him, dragging his tongue between your folds up to your clit to collect your arousal, his motions rapidly becoming hungrier, greedier, lapping you up like a man starved

"F-fuck, Yoongi!" You moaned out, the onslaught of sensations too much for your mind to keep up with.

You laced your fingers through his dark hair as you began to buck your hips against his skilled tongue, your motions becoming synchronized.

Yoongi steadied himself by grabbing onto your thighs, letting you grind on him, use him for your pleasure.

You looked down to see his eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth against you, the sight enough to cause the tension deep inside you to wind painfully tight, threatening to snap.

“Y-yoongi,” You gasped, your vision blurring at the edges. I’m-”

"Cum for me, Baby. Let go."

Like a command whispered into your bones, you unraveled almost instantly. Yoongi pressed his face closer onto you, letting you ride out your orgasm on his tongue until you slumped back, exhausted.

You’d barely come down when he was standing and pulling you down from the counter.

“Bedroom, now.” He growled, the way he looked at you setting your skin on fire.

He wrapped his arms around you, propelling you towards the bedroom, his lips never straying from your skin for more than a moment.

Once in the bedroom, he pushed you down onto the bed, climbing over you and connecting his mouth with yours again.

Pulling away to roughly remove both of your clothes, Yoongi’s eyes never left you, his gaze hypnotic like a predator with its prey, wanting to tear you apart and consume you entirely, causing you to squirm beneath him.

Now laid bare before him, Yoongi claimed his place between your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as he did so.

"So pretty, and all mine.” He hummed, spreading your legs even further apart. “Mine. Isn’t that right?"

"Yours, only yours, Yoongi." You agreed, your head still spinning from your last high. “Please.”

He positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, but didn’t push in yet, choosing instead to tease you by just tapping it against you, making you twitch in need. "Tell me you want it, Baby, wanna hear you say it."

"Please, Yoongi. Fuck me, please. Need to feel you." You begged.

He’d always been so good at this, making you desperate for him, your pleas sending blood rushing straight to his cock.

"Good girl." He pressed into you with the last word, causing you to let out a borderline pornographic moan, eyes rolling bad in your head.

He quickly set a brutal pace, pounding into you relentlessly as he gripped your waist, your body jolting with every thrust, your hands clutching at his forearms for stability.

"Tell me you're mine." He panted out.

"I'm yours, Yoongi, all yours." You gasped out, you pussy clenching around him as you spoke, making him almost dizzy with need.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Who’s the only one that makes you like this?” He huffed.

But the way he was pounding into you was causing your mind to drift away, floating somewhere in the stratosphere until he brought you back down to earth and him with a firm slap to your ass.

“Say it!” He demanded.

“Yoongi!” You cried out, the sharp sting of pain blending with pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Say it again!”

“Y-yoongi!” You sobbed.

He picked up his pace, well aware that the bedroom windows were open, but he couldn't care less. He needed to hear your pretty moans as you begged for him, he needed the world to hear it.

"Mine. My baby.” He groaned. “Fuck, ought to cum in you, get you pregnant, make sure everybody knows you’re mine.”

You broke at his words, shaking in his vice-like hold as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Feeling you come undone, squeezing his cock so hard he couldn’t breathe, sent him over the edge, his hips losing their rhythm as he collapsed on top of you, spilling deep inside your twitching heat.

Silence fell over the room, broken only by you and Yoongi’s shaky breaths as you tried to collect yourselves.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his softening length still nested inside of you, gently stroking your hair. All of the earlier roughness and aggression was nowhere to be seen as he looked down at you softly, almost apprehensive.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked, voice now slightly hoarse.

“Mhm,” He nodded, tracing his fingers over the curve of your shoulder.

He carefully moved off of you, moving to lay next to you before pulling you gently to his chest.

You waited a few moments before asking. “You wanna tell me what brought all that on?”

He let out a breath. “It’s dumb.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You said, giving him a look as you waited for him to explain.

“It’s just-” He sighed. “You and Jin.”

You frowned. “What about me and Jin?”

“Nothing, you’ve just… You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. And he’s nice and all, but… it’s just, you spent all day with him, and then he keeps fucking texting you.” He brought an arm up to cover his eyes as irritation began to bubble up in his stomach at the memory. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t know it bothered you that much.” You said quietly.

“It doesn’t,” He said, too quickly. “At least, not usually. I just...”

You sat up, turning to look at him properly.

“Yoongi, look at me,” You said softly. “Please?”

He let his arm fall away from his face, cautiously meeting your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel jealous. I like spending time with Jin, but my friendship with him could never even remotely compare to how much I love you.” You said, caressing his face. “You’re all I want forever.”

His heart stuttered as you leaned closer, pressing the softest of kisses to his swollen, love bruised lips.

It was almost funny, after everything that transpired in the past hour, the simple act of you kissing him was what made him feel the most unsteady.

You were his world, he couldn't imagine his life without you, or rather didn’t want to. He knew what it looked like, flat, bleak, nothingness.

You were what made life livable for him. Without you, it would just be surviving, and he’d had enough of that before the two of you met.

Drawing you back down to him, all his earlier insecurities faded out like a distant memory. The reassuring feeling of holding you in his arms, you sighing contentedly against his chest, was everything he needed and more.

“I love you.” He said, almost too quiet to hear.

“I love you too.” Your sleepy reply was the last thing he heard before he drifted off.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi smut #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts smut #yoongi drabble #yoongi scenarios #bts drabble #yoongi oneshot #bts requests #bts oneshot #bts one shot #bts scenarios #7ndipity

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Uptown Girl and The Brooklyn Boy

Pairing: Greaser!Bucky Barnes x Uptown Girl!Reader Summary: Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

A.N. - Here's a long awaited request from one of my dearest readers @oneofstarkskids, it definitely strayed a little from that initial request but i hope you enjoy! "just reread this and it's still so amazing 😭 do you take requests? if so, would you be inclined to writing a grease themed bucky au one shot?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Picture this... he's from the wrong side of the tracks. He's everything every mother in your neighborhood warned you about. His hands perpetually stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his lips, scuffed leather jacket snug around his broad shoulders.

You're none of those things, the complete opposite. Pearls strung around your neck. Perfectly done up, lips painted the perfect rouge. You're as educated as a woman could be in your day and age. You're an Uptown girl. Capital O - Old Money.

Your friends are enamored with Bucky Barnes and his friends - though you all know they'll never do anything about. Not as long as their parents had anything to say about it. And none of them are prepared to give up their high class life. It's just fun for them. A way to sow some wild oats before their parents introduce them to their future husbands.

Every chance they get, they pester you to take the long way home. To walk by that mechanic shop where Bucky and his friends hang out.

They never approach those Brooklyn boys. No, they never offer more than a coy smile and a languid, flirty twinkle of their manicured fingers. They just relish in the attention they get from walking past them.

You hate it. You hate their arrogance. You hate the smell of nicotine that hangs around him. You hate everything about them, down to those oddly charming Brooklyn accents.

"Hey," a blonde boy calls as you and your best friend walk past their mechanic shop one day. "Hey!"

"I told you this was a bad idea," you hiss at your friend, locking your arm with hers. "Now, look."

"I think they want to talk to us," she squeals under her breath.

He picks up his stride, doing a half jog until he reaches where your friend holds you hostage on the pavement. "We see you ladies passin' through every once in a while. Thought we could be friends or somethin'."

Your friend is immediately entranced with the blonde boy. Her face flushes as she beams at him, "We would love that!"

"We have enough friends," you simultaneously reply.

"She's kidding," your friend nervously chuckles, elbowing you in your ribs.

The blonde boy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I'm Steve. My friend there is Bucky."

As if on cue, Bucky saunters up beside Steve with an equally arrogant grin. He tips his head at each of you. "Hello, ladies."

Your friend nods at the two of them, an ear to ear grin taking up her entire face. "It's nice to meet you, Steve, Bucky."

The brunette's eyes flash over to you, speaking through that infuriating smirk, "Pleasure's ours."

"Would you ladies like to join us for a Coke?" Steve offers.

"We'd love to!" she immediately replies.

You shoot your friend an intense, incredulous glare. "I'm sorry, could you excuse us for a second?"

"Sure thing." Steve nods, ambling away from you and your friend to give you a moment of privacy.

Bucky doesn't move an inch. He stands before you with that same arrogant smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I'm good right here."

"Fine," you scoff, speaking as bluntly as you can. Despite your polite upbringing, you you find don't care about offending him in the slightest. "We are not staying here!"

"Come on," she pleads. "What's the harm?"

"Where's the good in staying?" you shoot back.

"They're just so handsome," she fawns, looking over her shoulder to give a coy wave to the blonde boy. "And there's one for the both of us, it's fate!"

"It's not fate. They're nothing but trouble."

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "You remember that I'm still right here, right?"

You shoot a glare at Bucky. "I know."

He playfully clutches his chest. "You're hurtin' my feelings, Doll."

You can feel the anger raising your blood's temperature. You don't like how quickly he's gotten underneath your skin. "I'm not your Doll."

"Princess?" he suggests with an infuriating wag of his eyebrows.

There's an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to stamp your foot at him and yell at him to stop teasing you. You keep it together just enough to contain that visceral reaction you're having to Bucky Barnes. Mostly. "I'm not your anything!"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "What did I ever do to you, Princess?"

Your eyes narrow in accusation. "I know your type."

"Charming? Irresistibly handsome?"

"Horrendously arrogant," you seethe at him. You turn back to your friend, only to find her missing, "Now, can we please go-"

"Your friend ran off the second you were focused on me."

Your eyes flicker to behind Bucky to your friend, who sure enough is enthralled in a conversation with Steve. "I was not focused on you!"

"Then why didn't you notice your friend runnin' away from you?"

"You're incorrigible."

The corner of Bucky's lips twitch up. "Didn't they teach you in that finishing school that it's not polite to insult people who are tryin' to be your friend?"

"And how would you know that I went to finishing school?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you like the answer is obvious. His eyes rake over you. From the way you hold yourself. To the dresses that oozed quiet luxury. You and Bucky were as different as night and day. "I know an uptown girl when I see one."

"And I know trouble when I see it," you shoot back. "And you Brooklyn boys are nothing but trouble."

It only gets worse from there. After that first interaction, your friend in fully infatuated with Steve Rogers. There is no tearing her away from him.

And that means, as your friend's dutiful alibi, you were dragged down to Brooklyn far more than you ever wanted.

And worst of all, it meant you spent most of your free time in the presence of Bucky Barnes.

"Please, just be nice," your friend begs as you trudge up to their garage. "I'd settle for polite even."

You scoff at her, rolling your eyes, "I'm always polite - just like I'm always nice."

"Not to Bucky, you're not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you grumble, walking into the garage. Your friend takes off, immediately falling into the arms of Steve Rogers. Leaving you with Bucky Barnes to sit with him on the the couch that's become your most constant companion on days like today. As you walk past Bucky, you snipe, "James."

Bucky quirks a brow, smirking at you, "Oh, so now I'm James?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

He walks away from the bike he spends most of his time working on, snatching a rag from his tool bench and wiping his hands of motor grease. Your eyes involuntarily wander to his hands, the care he puts into wiping each and every one of his fingers.

You stare for a second too long for Bucky not to notice you staring at his hands. "Remind me to thank Steve for tellin' ya that."

You roll your eyes, finally snapping out of it. "It's far better than the alternative."

He flicks the rag over, resting it on his shoulder. "So you like my name?"

You softly snort as you settle onto the couch. "I didn't say that. I said it was better than the alternative."

That smirk only gets even bigger. "What else do ya like about me?"

You roll your eyes. "Not a thing."

He settles into the couch beside you. Far too close for your liking. You can almost feel the rough denim of his jeans through your skirt. "I just love these conversations of ours."

"I don't."

His entire torso turns towards you, mischief and amusement gleaming in those blue eyes, "I mean, why would I want warmth and affection when I could have blind hatred?"

"It's not blind hatred." In spite of easily Bucky gets under your skin, you can't deny just how unfairly handsome he is. Even now, you find yourself lost in the depths of his ocean blue eyes. "It's perfectly reasonable contempt."

He gently runs a finger down your cheek. "I love when you talk smart to me."

You swat his hand away from your face. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not!" Bucky insists. "I really love it! I know it's just your way of flirting with me!"

You scoff, making no attempt to hide your offense, "I am not flirting with you!"

He tilts his head at you, that arrogant smirk once again tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on, just admit it, Doll. You're a little sweet on me."

"I am not your Doll!" You fly up out of your seat with an indignant huff. "And I most certainly am not sweet on you!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when I walk around here without a shirt. Or the way you were staring at my hands just now. What exactly were you picturin' my hands doin'?"

"I was not picturing anything." Your cheeks flame as you continue to bicker back and forth with him. Sure, he was possibly the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid eyes on. And yes, he could be incredibly charming. And sometimes, you found yourself staring at him in an not so innocent way. But you hated him. He infuriated you to no end. "And I was not staring!"

The grin is practically splitting his face. "And you've definitely thought about kissin' me."

"I would rather walk from here to Jersey than kiss you."

He slides up off the couch, taking a long step towards you. "You've got a hell of a temper, you know that?"

You refuse to back down. You press an accusing finger into his chest. You can't help but notice just how firm the muscles underneath that white t-shirt are. "I just think you're real good at pushing my buttons."

"Real good?" Bucky teases. "I think Brooklyn is startin' to rub off on you."

"You know what I think?" Your chest starts to heave with the anger and frustration you feel towards Bucky Barnes. "I think that you're the last person I would ever let rub off on me. I think that you're an arrogant smart ass that likes to spend his day running his mouth."

"And I think you're a repressed priss that couldn't take what she wanted 'less it's handed to her on a silver platter."

"You wouldn't know a damn thing about what I want."

"You wanna know what I think..." He leans closer, lowering himself to your eye level. "I think that you're pissed off because you know deep down those punk ass rich boys will never make ya happy, I think you're pissed off 'cause you're bored, and I think you're pissed off 'cause you want me - even if you'll never admit it."

You don't have a response to that. There's not a single word that comes to mind. You don't think you've ever been this mad before.

And because you can't think of a single word to assuage your heaving chest and boiling blood, you do something that a polite, good girl like you would never even dreaming of doing. Before you can think, you find your hand opening and winding back.

Before you can even make contact with his cheek, he catches your hand, gripping your wrist between his warm, calloused hand. He hauls you forward until you stumble into his chest.

For a moment, you can almost hear a pin drop. The tension is so thick the only air in the room Bucky's breath dancing across your lips. "I think I'm gonna kiss you."

A soft breath stutters from your lips. "And I think I'm gonna let you."

You weren't sure what it was, but after that first kiss, you couldn't get enough of your Brooklyn boy. Even after your friend and Steve had mostly fizzled out, you couldn't get enough of him.

You waited for the moment that they all talked about, the moment when you had your fill of the boy from the wrong side of tracks, when your wild oats were sufficiently sowed, but it never came.

Every time you laid eyes on him, the seal on your fate only solidified more and more. The more you saw him, the more you wanted him. And the more sure you were that you would never be able to let him go.

You weren't a stranger to the boredom and monotony of your upper echelon life, but this was different. This wasn't boredom, he wasn't a distraction. From the moment you met Bucky, you lost all interest in the upper echelon of it all.

Suddenly, you don't care what your friends think, what your parents would think. Suddenly, you were throughly repulsed by the thought of marrying one of those repressed, trust fund babies that littered your street.

And even your friends, the same ones that lived off their fleeting attention, didn't understand.

Your friend rolls her eyes again, a sigh of irritation leaving her lips as you ready to go meet Bucky, "Are you really going back up there?"

"You're the reason I met him in the first place!"

"I know. I know," she groans, clearly disappointed that you hadn't lost interest in Bucky like she had with Steve. "And I'm happy for you! I am! I just I want to make sure..."

Her tone finally gets your full attention. You put your bag down on the table, your eyebrow pulled together, "Make sure what?"

"You're just sowing wild oats, right?"

Your entire face puckers with distaste, "What?"

"That sounded bad," she backtracks, a guilty look painting her face. She takes a deep breath, resting a condescending hand on your shoulder. "You just - you know your future isn't with Bucky, right?"

You shake her hand off your shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"He's from a different world than we are. You know that."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," you scoff. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Come on, he's not exactly the sort of guy you can bring home to your parents."

You snort, turning away from her, "I have to go."

"You know I'm right!" she calls after you.

You didn't know that. In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you saw why he was exactly the right person to bring home to your parents. He was everything you could ever bring yourself to hope for and more. Sure, he was different than you and your family, but he was a good man. He was perfect for you.

Surely, your parents could see that. Surely, they could see how good he was for you.

So that's exactly what you were going to do.

Bucky sighs against your lips, "I missed ya."

You don't know when that happened, but you've come to find a comfort in the scent of the faded leather of his jacket, in the feeling of his calloused fingertips trailing dangerously high on your upper thigh.

In the backseat of his beloved car, you curl closer into his side, resting your head on his chest, "Me too."

He kisses the top of your head, watching as you stare off into the distance, "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

You pull back slightly, lifting your head off his chest. With a furrowed brow, you ask him, "How serious are you about me?"

"Dead serious," he replies in an instant.

You lightly swat his chest. "Quit playing."

"'M not playin'," he swears. He does an 'x' over his heart, "Cross my heart."

His answer gives you all the reassurance you need. All there was to do was ask him. Still, there was a hesitancy. You worry that this will just make him realize that you two might just be insurmountably, irreconcilably different. You decide that the best way to ask is just ask. "Then what would you say about meeting my parents?"

"I'd love to," Bucky coolly answers.

You can't help the way your face lights up with hope. "Really?"

"Of course. Anything for my girl."

You really like the way that sounds. His girl. You could get used to being his girl.

The look on your face is worth it all to Bucky. He only hopes you don't see the anxiety in his expression.

He wasn't oblivious to how different your worlds were. He knew there was a good chance that this wouldn't last forever. It didn't really matter what he wanted or how much he was willing to fight for you, he knew the reality of it all.

He couldn't offer you half of what someone in your neighborhood could. Your worlds couldn't be more different.

And he's never been more aware of it than on the eve of meeting your parents.

Steve smirks at Bucky as he fiddles with his tie again. "You're really seein' this through, aren't you?"

Bucky smacks Steve upside his head. "Don't be a jerk."

"I'm just sayin'," Steve shrugs, settled into the couch of Bucky's family home. "I'm happy for ya, Buck. You really like this girl."

"I wouldn't be dressed like this for anyone else. Are you sure this is right?" Bucky tugs at his tie again. Maybe it was that the suit hadn't seen the light of day in a few years and was a little more snug than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that he'd only dressed like this for funerals and weddings, but everything about his getup today made him feel like a fraud. He was sure if your parents saw him like this, they'd see right through him. "I feel like I'm goin' to a school dance."

"Where does she live again?"

Bucky tries his best to hide his wince. He'd never been to your side of town, but he'd heard stories. Sure, most of them were made up, but there had to be some truth buried in the tall tales. "Upper West Side."

Steve pats his shoulder. "Stick with the tie, Buck."

He listens to Steve's advice and sticks with the tie. As he walks through your neighborhood, seeing houses bigger than entire apartment buildings on his block that line your street, he's pretty confident in trusting Steve up until the moment he sees you.

Your smile stutters as you see him waiting outside the gate of your home. It was just his luck that your house was one of the biggest on the block. Your eyes trail up and down Bucky's uncharacteristic attire. "What are you wearing?"

His heart sinks. He looks down, patting his blazer and tie. "Am I - Am I not this thing right? I knew it - I told Steve -"

"No, no," you quickly interject. "You look great! I've just never seen you... like this."

"What's wrong with this?" Bucky hedges.

Your soft smile up at him is the only thing soothing his knotted stomach. "Nothing, I - I just wanted them to meet you, to meet the Bucky that I know and - and I want them to know you. Not whoever this is."

"I - I didn't think they would like that Bucky very much," Bucky confesses.

It doesn't escape you that he's nervous, especially as he fiddles with this tie over and over again. You're well aware of how intimidating this all is. Even as someone who grew up in this social circle, in the thick of the upper echelon, you still found yourself scared of doing and saying the wrong thing.

You knew he was only trying to fit in as best as he could. Still, you missed the smell of his leather jacket, the waft of motor oil that often clung to his skin. "Well, I like you the way you are. Greaser and all."

"Thanks." It's comforting to him. Still, as his eyes rove over your house, he can't help but be glad he listened to both Steve and his mother. He holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "My Ma told me to bring these for your Ma."

An endeared smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He was really trying to win over your parents. He really was serious about this - about you. "My mother will love this."

"Your mother," Bucky corrects himself, doing his best to tame his Brooklyn twang.

"Just be yourself," you assure him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you make your way up the long driveway. "No one else, just you."

"Any other tips?"

"If you run out of things to talk about ask my father about his cars. He collects them."

It takes everything in Bucky not to gape like a fish out of water. "He collects... cars?"

You ignore his question, continuing to fill Bucky in on your parents, "And my mother, well, she's a terrible gossip. If you can get her talking about her friends, you've won her over."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Just relax. They'll love you."

As he walks into your home, greeted by a man wearing a nicer suit than he is who offered to take his coat from him, Bucky's not quite sure he believes you.

Your heels click against the sleek marble flooring as you guide him through your home. He holds on tight to your hand, half afraid that you'll let go and he'll get lost in the labyrinth of pristine beige hallways.

Your father is the first to greet Bucky in your living room. He extends a hand out to Bucky. "You must be the boy we've heard so much about."

"It's nice to meet you both," Bucky returns the firm handshake before turning to your mother with the warmest smile he can muster through his anxiety. "You have a lovely home, ma'am. I brought these for you."

She takes the bouquet from Bucky's hand. "Oh, that's very kind of you..."

"Oh, it's Bucky," he supplies.

"Bucky?" your mother dubiously repeats. "How unique..."

"It's James, actually," Bucky corrects himself, already feeling himself getting flustered. "James Buchanan Barnes. 's where Bucky comes from."

Your mother nods, offering a tight smile, "How lovely."

As your mother hands off the flowers to one of the wait staff, he can't help but already feel like he's already made that dreaded bad first impression.

As though you can see the despair forming in the pit of his stomach and dampening the glimmer in his blue eyes, you give his hand a squeeze along with a smile.

"Dinner is ready," your mother announces. "Why don't we make our way to the dining room?"

"That sounds wonderful," you beam, leading Bucky into the next room. You stutter to a stop just before the dining table. You look at the table as you take your seat, your eyebrows furrowed at something that Bucky hasn't quite caught on to. "Mother? I thought we agreed on a more simple menu tonight."

As you speak you reach under the table, giving Bucky's hand an apologetic squeeze. Just from your inflection, Bucky can tell what awaits him will not be pleasant.

"Nonsense." She dismissively waves you off. "We have a guest."

"We talked about this," you admonish. "You promised."

"Bucky?" your mother calls. "Do you mind having a more formal dinner? I know it might be a tad unusual for you."

"Mother," you sharply warn.

"Um, no, ma'am," Bucky awkwardly lilts. "That sounds lovely."

A self satisfied smirk settles on your mother's face. "See? It's fine."

"Why are there so many forks?" Bucky whispers under his breath.

"Just work your way in," you reply as quietly as you can.

"Do you change forks every bite or somethin'?" It's half an attempt at a joke, half an honest question.

"In between courses."

"Courses?"

Before you can answer Bucky's question, your mother is already beginning her interrogation. "So, James, tell us about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," Bucky replies. "I was born and raised down in Brooklyn."

Your father snorts, "Really?"

You're not quite sure if Bucky catches the sarcastic lilt to your father's question or if he really does just try to rise above it. It's hard to tell with how he rolls with the punches. "Yes, sir."

"Any siblings?" your mother asks.

"I'm the oldest of four, ma'am."

"Any plans for your life?" your father finally pipes in.

"Dad," you hiss.

Your father shrugs, "It's an honest question."

Once again, it rolls off of Bucky's back. "Well, I'm workin' at a garage right now. Me and my friend, Steve, we're hopin' to buy it out. We've just about saved enough between the two of us to buy it from the ol' man when he's ready to retire."

"A man with a plan. I like that."

"Thank you, sir." You're sure that you hear Bucky's sigh of relief as he finds his footing. You can practically see his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your daughter tells me that you have an impressive collection yourself."

You weren't entirely sure how he pulled it off, but by the end of the night, Bucky is talking to your parents like they're old friends.

You're not even sure why you're that surprised, you hated him up until the moment you succumbed to his charm.

As the evening comes to a close, he stands in the doorway, shaking your father's hand again, offering your mother that charming grin once more, "Thank you for dinner. Everything was delicious."

"You're welcome back anytime, James."

"Thank you." You're almost shocked at your mother's open invitation. He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. "I'll see ya later."

The three of you stand in the foyer of your house as Bucky walks down the steps and down the driveway with his hands shoved in his pockets. You look up to your father, face filled with hope. "So?"

"He's a nice boy."

You're not sure your grin can get any bigger. "I really like him."

"You'll grow out of it."

Your heart sinks the moment the words leave your father's mouth. "What?"

"It can't come soon enough," your mother groans. "You're far too good for him."

"You don't know him."

"We know his type, dear," your mother condescendingly sighs. "And good girls like you don't belong with boys like that, but I do think it was sweet of you to invite your little infatuation to dinner."

You feel like all the air has been knocked out of you. For a moment tonight, you really thought they were coming around. You truly thought it would all work out for the best. "Infatuation?"

"That's what this is, right?" your father asks, concern painting his expression when he sees the furiously determined look in your face. "You're just... rebelling?"

You look up at your father, shaking your head. "No, no, I'm not just rebelling."

You fought with them the whole night before you went to find him the very next day. They threatened you with everything they could think of. When that didn't work, they bribed you with everything they could think of. You didn't care for any of it.

The moment you see him, you know he knows. You're not sure if he realized it the moment he walked out of your door or if it took him a quick recollection of the night to realize it, but he knows all the same. It looks like he hasn't slept a wink. A deep frown replaces his usual grin. He looks entirely and totally distraught.

He notices you the moment you walk up to his garage just like you did all those times before.

This time, it's obvious is different. There aren't barbed words or verbal jabs. You don't bound into his arms. Even Steve offers you a sad twitch of his lips.

Bucky watches you for a long moment before you break the silence. He reaches into his pocket, lighting a cigarette in between his fingers. "Hi."

"They hated me, right?" He doesn't waste words. Your lips press together in a tight line. He takes a large drag from his cigarette. You can't remember the last time you saw him smoking. He shakes his head, hissing under his breath, "Damn it..."

"Bucky?"

He takes another large pull from his cigarette. Even from feet away, you can smell the nicotine in the air. "Just do it. I understand."

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? Just get it over with."

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't understand."

"I'm not an idiot, alright?" he spits. "I know I didn't pass their little test, so just call it already."

"Is that really what you thought last night was?"

"What else would you call last night? 'Cause I think I was the butt of the joke from beginnin' to end."

"You were not the butt of the joke, Bucky."

"Oh, please, I fell face first into their punchline."

You suck in a shaky breath, both your own hurt and the cloud of smoke around Bucky burning at your throat, "Is that what you think of me? That I was tryin' to set you up?"

"Yes! No- No! I just - I - Don't you see it?"

"See what?" you demand.

"That I'm not good enough for you!" he desperately exclaims, tossing his cigarette on the pavement. "And everyone else already knows it! Last night proved that!"

"My parents are assholes, Bucky. I came here to apologize for them, to tell you that I don't care what they think."

His voice quiets, the anger melts off his words until all that's left is a heartbreaking sincerity, "You should. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"They don't know you, but I do." You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "And I think you've got everything I want. I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."

"Do you mean that?"

"Every word."

"What did I do to deserve you? My perfect girl." He kisses the back of the hand he hods, using it to tug you closer to him. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him. "What?"

You wrinkle your nose at him. "I hate the smell of smoke."

"I'll quit," he immediately replies.

"You'll quit smoking? Just like that?"

"That surprise you?"

"It's just - Maybe you Brooklyn boys aren't as tough as you think you are," you tease.

He smirks. "Maybe we're not. Maybe I'm not - but I think it's because I'm in love with an Uptown girl."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky

#anonymityisfunwriter #anonymityisfun #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #reader insert #x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

[jokingmisfit]

Imagine (Will You?)

Imagine being a villain. Imagine flirting specifically with Nightwing and Red Hood. Imagine they become obsessive, but you don't notice. Imagine you get away with your next few crime sprees as the news covers the two brother in henious combat. Imagine waking up in a strange place with your two favorite vigilanties. Imagine feeling sick and out of it. Imagine questioning them angrily. Imagine they explain sweetly how they saved your life. Imagine their "concerned" faces as you tell them you don't remember that. Imagine as they keep you company while you work on "recovering", but you never seem to get better. Imagine crying to the masked men and telling them you miss feeling good. Imagine telling them how much you appreaciate their presence that you still don't feel like you know them. Imagine they take off the masks. Imagine you officially meet Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. Imagine af you grow closer to the two men. Imagine your connection to them making you rethink your life of crime. Imagine their loving pampering changing your mind. Imagine telling them once you get better you want to live a fairly normal life. Imagine they make you a deal that when you feel better you can live with them and they'll help you get on the right path. Imagine accepting. Imagine in the next few weeks you start feeling better. Imagine you move in with the two leather clad men. Imagine within a few months the three of you start dating. Imagine the most perfect relationship.

Now, imagine, you wake up late without either of the men in your three's apartment. Imagine you get bored waiting for them to come home so you go snooping, you used to be a villain after all and doing things you weren't supposed to was in your nature. Imagine going into the only room the two told you to leave alone. Imagine the horror as you realize what you've walked in on. Imagine the live video feeds of your home. Imagine seeing a medical monitor in the corner with your name on it. Imagine evidence of old criminals who you were friends with that were now dead. Imagine the panic as you go to leave your home for the first time, alone, in a very long time. Imagine the dread as the door deadbolts itself after you initially unlock it. Imagine the panic as you hear Dick's bubbly voice behind you hiding a sinister tone while he asks where you were going. Imagine the anger and bitterness in Jason's voice as he reminds you how you weren't supposed to go into that room for your own good. Imagine a heavy fight against the two, you used to be a villain after all. Imagine they win. Imagine being tied to a bed as the men scold and coddle you in attempts to soothe your anger and anxiety. Imagine now knowing you'll never have a moment to yourself ever again.

#yandere batfam #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere red hood #yandere nightwing #nightwing x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #yandere nightwing x reader #yandere red hood x reader #jason todd #red hood #nightwing #dick grayson

[thoughtidtry]

Mr. Perfectly Fine - MV CL

SUMMARY: Angst: After your break up you take time to reflect on the man you once thought hung the stars. Who knew another would help you find the beauty in the stars as they fell. PAIRING: Ex!Max Verstappen X fem!reader, Charles Leclerc x reader at the end. A/N: Inspired by Mr. Perfectly Fine by Taylor Swift. Experimenting with formatting so please let me know if it helps with reading! 2.8k+ words... I apparently can't write anything smaller let me know if you all would rather have it in thousand-word parts instead of one long post!

"Mr. "Perfect Face" Mr. "Here to stay""

"You're so beautiful liefje"

Max hummed in the crook of your neck as you lay back on his chest while watching a movie. These moments were your favorite, the quiet murmurs, and gentle touches while enjoying each other company. The times when you had him all to yourself with no cameras or teammates looking at you both.

"Look who's talking pretty boy"

You responded back with a playful smirk knowing he hated being called pretty.

"Only pretty liefde really. I'm offended"

All you could do was giggle before looking back at your boyfriend to find him clutching his chest like you would imagine an old lady clutching her pearls.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't know being pretty was a bad thing now"

Faking an innocent look as you apologized for your disrespectful comment. You wanted to see how far you could tease before he reacted. Already he looked like he was mulling over whether or not to accept you heartfelt apology.

"Of course pretty could never fully articulate how a face as perfect as your looks. I again am so sorry for the offen-"

"Oh that's it!"

You were interrupted by being picked up and tossed on the couch beside him before he was on top of you looking done. With a smug smirk on his face, he pinned your hands above your head with one hand before starting to tickle you with the other.

"You gonna really apologize now"

You couldn't help but laugh as he poked and squeezed your sides till you were gasping for breath. His laughter echoed in your ears as he continued to torture you.

"I-I'm sorry p-please max"

You finally gasped out and he stopped still chuckling before leaning down to peck your lip quickly.

"That's what I thought"

He declared with a look of triumph on if face. You study his face for a moment with a soft smile before you glance over to see you already looking at him.

"What, liefde?"

Max questioned, his eyes filled with curiosity. You shrugged before answer as if it was the most common phrase ever spoke.

"I just wish we could stay like this forever. Here. Just the two of us."

He softly smiled back at you taking in how relaxed and angelic you looked in the soft glow of the TV.

"Well, I don't plan on going anywhere without you. I'm here to stay as long as you'll have me."

"Mr. "Change of heart" Mr. "Leaves me all alone""

You had never minded Max having to travel to races it was a part of his job. He used to love you tagging along with him to the races, being in the paddock with all the other girlfriends and wives of the other racers, and going back to the hotel with him after to help him relax after a long day. It made sense that you wouldn't be at every race but recently it seemed like he didn't want you there at all.

There was always some last-minute reason he needed to be at the track days before free practice started and you couldn't get off work in time before he had to leave. Trips started to become longer and longer to the point he was never home. You tried your best to understand but you missed him.

You talk on the phone when possible but they were always short. He always had an excuse why he had to go. The engineers needed to talk to him about the car, Checo was waiting on him for a video, or he had made plans to hang out with one of the other drivers.

"Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy""

At some point, you stopped trying to call him and just resorted to texting him. His responses were few and hours apart with a made-up reason why he hadn't answered. You were beginning to lose hope when your phone rang one day. The excitement in your voice was evident when answering the call.

"Hey Max, how's the race going?" He sighed in annoyance that you even asked. "Yeah it's fine, look we need to talk" You took a step back at his tone. He was cold or maybe even angry. This wasn't like him at all at least not the side of him you knew. "O-okay yeah. What's up? Everything alright?" You were panicking a little worried something bad had happened. Was he hurt? Did something happen at the track? "Look I just don't think this is really working out. I think we should end things." You froze in shock, this had to be a joke right? He did just say that. All you could get out was a whisper like your voice had been stolen and tears started to well up in your eyes. "W-What?" Another sigh came from his side of the phone. As if this was becoming a more tedious conversation than he had planned. "We just aren't the same anymore you know. I'm sorry, I need someone less clingy, someone who understands what I do for a living." There was a pause as you heard another voice before he continued "I got to go, Christian wants to talk about something. I'll send you any stuff you left in my apartment when I get back. Bye."

"Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl. I've been picking up my heart, he's been picking up her"

The last few weeks had been nothing but painful. Ever since the break up you've had several people calling and texting you. From the girlfriends and wives you used to spend time with in the paddock check to see if you're okay to random acquaintances wanting to hear all the dirty details. It made you sick thinking about that call, you thought that would be the worst of it until you got a text from Charles Leclerc.

At first, you thought he was just another person trying to figure out what had happened. You had spoken to him multiple times and were able to joke around with each other before everything happened but you weren't surprised. At least you weren't until you opened up the messages.

Hey, I know you probably want to be left alone, but I don't want you to get blindsided by seeing later. Max is seeing someone else. None of us knew until yesterday when he brought her to the paddock and started introducing her to everyone. I just wanted to let you know instead of you finding out through the media.

All the healing you thought you had done crumbled like a house of cards. The tears started to fall before you even got to read the last message. It hadn't even been a full month. How could he have moved on so fast? Through tear-blurred gaze you decided to respond to Charles.

Thank you for letting me know.... I appreciate your honesty. You're right I would like to be left alone. I'm glad to have met you and everyone else, but I can't keep talking to you all. It hurts too much, too many memories. Hope you have a great race, Charles..... Thank you again.

Charles felt a pang of guilt reading those messages. You had always been kind to him and seemed to care a lot about everyone you came in contact with. He felt angry at Max on your behalf and wanted to help you in any way possible.

You are an amazing person chérie. I know you want to be alone but I can't abide by your wishes. Please let me be there for you. We don't have to talk about anything in particular, just tell me about your day or we can talk about our hobbies. Just let me be here for you, please?

It took you a moment before responding to the process. Charles wasn't a bad guy from what you knew of him. You had been isolating yourself from everyone the last couple of weeks not wanting to talk about everything. Maybe having someone to talk to about normal life would be nice? A sigh of defeat left as you messaged him back.

okay.... so what do like to do in your free time?

Charles softly smiles at your message. It was a start and he'll take it. He responded back quickly telling you about how he likes playing the piano and how he had released a few songs. This was a pleasant surprise for you and you told him you listen to them.

"Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins" So far above me in every sense."

The end of the racing season came quicker than you could have imagined. You and Charles had become closer than you had ever expected. He was there for you to cry to and laugh with and as your heart mended he filled in the cracks still seeping sorrow with his own love and compassion.

Sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he tried to cook you dinner, you couldn't help teasing him for his terrible cooking skills. He mocked you back at how inept you were when it came to baking. The conversation lulled as he began to focus on not burning the food before he hesitantly brought up the award ceremony. "If it's too soon I understand, but I would love for you to be my date."

You took a moment to consider the proposition. As long as you were in Charles' life Max would be in yours. You knew you would have to see him sooner or later, so why not now? With your decision made you smiled a bit.

"I would love to be your date, Charles. This is your night to celebrate a great season. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The night arrived sooner than you had anticipated and there you were walking on Charles' arm in a velvet red dress looking in his words like an angel. You held the compliment close as you made your entrance together.

Friends and acquaintances were rightfully shocked at your attendance. They quickly came to hug you and let you know how happy they were to see you before you all were seated for the ceremony. It felt good to be around everyone again, you had missed them. Missed the funny moments and heartfelt chats. The night seemed to be shaping up to a great time.

Max made a speech when accepting his WDC trophy. He made sure to thank a woman named Kelly, who you assumed was his girlfriend, along with the normal thank you to his team.

He seemed so calm, relaxed, and perfectly fine. It had only been a few months, how could you still be recovering while he was at ease. You felt so small and lowly at that moment, looking up at him at the top of his career.

Charles, of course, noticed like he always did and grabbed your hand in his with a soft squeeze before running his thumb across your knuckles. Once the ceremony ended, the people who had not noticed you before came to say hello while others said their goodbyes.

"Now I'm Ms. "Gonna be alright someday" and someday, maybe you'll miss me. But by then, you’ll be Mr. “Too late”."

Max stood near the front smiling as he talked to some of the other racers. He was dressed in a simple black suit with a bow tie to match and a beautiful woman on his arm. You could see why he liked her, she was gorgeous and seemed to fit perfectly beside him. As the commotion around your appearance began to reach an all-time high, he looked to see who it was about.

Never did he expect to see you, in a criminally perfect red dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, hanging on to none other than Charles Leclerc. He couldn't have stopped himself from staring if he wanted to. You looked amazing and he could tell you smile was genuine.

The sharp sting of past memories hit him as he studied your body language. So open, warm, and cheerful as you spoke you Lily, he realized how much he had missed you. Once your eyes locked it was over, your grip on Charles' arms tightened as Max strides forward completely leaving his girlfriend behind.

Charles noticed your discomfort, immediately following your gaze. He thought something might happen, Max would never just let you attend without having something to say. Looking down while shaking his head, he swore so quietly you barely heard before leaning close to your ear.

"Let me know if you want to leave. It's okay if you don't wanna talk to him."

Looking up at him, you softly smiled at how empathetic he was about your feelings. The worry in his eyes was evident but you had prepared for this. Resting a hand on his chest you shook your head.

"No, it's okay. Let's just get it over with and have a great night."

“Goodbye, Mr. “Casually Cruel”, Mr. “Everything revolves around you”.”

Max's blood boiled as he watched you touching Charles. How did you even know him? You had barely spoken to the Ferrari driver during your relationship. When did you get so close to him? He would find out soon enough as he drew closer.

"Charles" He nodded to the driver after coming to a stop in front of the pair before glancing over at you.

"What are you doing here Leifde"

He hadn't meant for that to come out but it still felt natural to call you that even after all this time. It sent a surge of anger through you to have him call you that again.

"I'm not your Leifde anymore Max. You lost the right to call me that. Would hate for your girlfriend to hear you."

You sneered back like venom making it clear you did not appreciate the name. He smirks at your reaction, loving that he still has an effect on you. Turning to look back at Charles he decided to try and get a raise out of him. After all, he's the reason your here right.

"What couldn't find your own date so you settled for my ex?"

Charles' composure snapped at that. How dare Max speak about you in such a disrespectful manner. You, even on your worst nights, couldn't say a negative comment about this man and here he was acting like you were damaged goods. He went to step forward and get in Max's face when you held him back getting in between the two placing both hands on his chest. Looking up at him, hoping he would understand what you were planning to do.

"He's not worth it, amour."

You loudly spoke the last word to get Charles' attention. He snapped his head down to you at the sound of his native language on your tongue. With a cheeky smirk on your face, you lean up to whisper in his ear.

"Please just play along."

There was a hint of mischief he caught in your eye as you moved one hand slowly up to the back of his neck.

"Mon chéri, let's just go home. I wanna slip into something more...comfortable"

Not only did this make the Dutchman scoff from behind you but also stormed off mumbling something under his breath. Charles can’t take his eyes off you, not when had just hinted at being a couple to get Max to leave. He didn’t mind it. If he was honest, he had actually enjoyed the way it felt to have you holding on to him all night. You let out a sigh of relief once he was gonna looking back up at Charles. Taking a small step away you started to apologize before being cut off.

“Come on ma belle fille, let’s get you home.”

Charles smiled a sweet smile grabbing your hand to usher you out of the room.

“Goodbye, Mr. “Perfectly Fine”.”

As you and Charles arrived at your house, he broke the comfortable silence of the driver. He looked like at scolded puppy as he began to talk.

“I’m glad you came with me tonight. Sorry I almost lost my cool at the end there.”

You snicker a bit before hanging him a half shrug.

“Honestly, it felt great to put Max in his place so thank you.”

He chuckled a bit in response while shaking his head slightly. Max was an idiot for losing you and Charles wasn’t gonna make the same mistake.

“Glad you had a good night Cheri. I know this might be too soon but could I possibly take you on a date? “

He pause hesitantly before continuing to ramble on

“If it’s too soon I completely understand but I couldn’t let my chance to show you how much I liked you pass without at least-“

You cut him off by grabbing his face, pulling him in for a kiss. At first, the shock of you kissing him caused him to freeze but he quickly recovered, kissing you back with so much passion that you were left speechless. Smiling as you both pulled apart, he had to be certain.

“So, is that a yes?”

You threw you head back laughing before confirming.

“Yes Charles, I would love to go on a date with you.”

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #light angst #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #breakup #formula 1 #formula one

[miley1442111]

Hi sorry to bother you but can you make a spencer reid x reader with the mute!reader and he helping her with everything.

Thank you so much sorry to bother you.

this is so cute! I did some research but I am nowhere near well-versed enough to know everything so please someone tell me if i've made a mistake !!!

mutism- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how you and spencer met, the first time spencer heard you speak, and a look into your life together :)

pairing: spencer reid x mute! reader

warnings: none

You were mute. You knew sign language and could talk to specific people on very specific occasions. You’d had it since you were diagnosed at 4 years old and it truthfully wasn’t the end of the world, but it did suck to not have had a date at the age of 22. Not that you weren’t beautiful, not that people hadn’t tried, you just… didn’t speak. 

But, CalTech was amazing, you were a biology student and you loved it. You could just lock in, ignoring the world around you and spend time in the lab for hours on end. Though, you couldn’t exactly investigate the growth rate of organisms in a crowded college bar. 

“I’m getting another drink!” Your very drunk friend shouted over the voices in the bar. You nodded your head, staring down at your half-empty drink as you sighed. You wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t here, at this stupid bar. Your friend, Maria, was a party-animal. You two had been dorm mates for the last 3 years and she had started learning sign language from the first week. She’d brought you into her friend group, allowing you a group of about 7 girls who all had your back. 

Well, they usually had your back, just not while they were all drunk and hooking up with their partners in the bathrooms or in their dorms, which is what all of them were doing right now. 

A tall and lanky boy sat beside you on your left and your body went rigid, silently begging him to not try and talk to you. 

“Spencer, come on!” One of his rowdy friends shouted. Spencer. Spencer was very cute. He had long-enough hair, brown trousers with a tie and shirt on. He looked far too overdressed for a simple college bar and you smiled. 

He was more than cute, he was gorgeous. You were shocked you’d never seen him modelling.

“No, I’m tired,” he laughed at his friend. “Go dance without me!” His friend gave up, walking off to a group of equally lanky and nerdy boys, all attempting to dance. 

Another man sat on your right, the seat where Maria had sat and you were instantly filled with anxiety again. Maria was nowhere to be seen and there were two men beside you, either of them could easily start trying to talk to you and what would you do? Just write it down on a napkin? On your phone? 

You hadn’t had this problem in a very long time. 

“So, you come here often?” The guy on your right asked, a soft smile on his face. He seemed to be the typical frat boy, kind of asshole-y but nicer than others you’d met. You tried to ignore him, pulling out your phone and texting Maria, saying you were going home instead of staying out longer, but he persisted. “What’s your name?”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Spencer had been attempting to make conversation with you all year. He knew you were the smartest in your class, since he and your professor were friends and he often read over your papers. He thought you had the most beautiful mind, he didn’t even care what you looked like, he just wanted to know you. 

But, he had found out what you looked like from your photo online and he fell harder. You were gorgeous, smart, and interesting. He also knew you were mute. Back in your first year at college most people had just assumed that you were rude or too prideful to speak to certain people, and that you were getting special treatment from teachers by them letting you not present your projects. This meant your facilitators had to make an announcement to most of your classes, explaining why you didn’t speak. He saw your face one day as your professor explained to the class that you were mute, you looked so embarrassed and ashamed and he felt his heartbreak. He'd been embarrassed of his intelligence his whole life (but trust me, he knew that these were VERY different things) and he felt an uncertain connection to you. 

“She’s my girlfriend,” he tried to sound intimidating to the guy but he knew he wasn’t exactly a beefy 6 '2 frat boy.

The frat boy got the message. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You felt sick, Spencer was speaking for you and all of it could’ve gone to shit if that frat boy hadn’t gotten the hint. You quickly got up, looked at Spencer and signed ‘thank you’ and practically ran through the door, just wanting to get back to your dorm, 

“Umm, wait!” Spencer followed you out to the car park and you turned to face him, feeling hot under his gaze despite the cold, dark night around you both. “I’m S-Spencer, sorry if that was really weird but I wanted him to l-leave you alone, I-I know who you are a-and… yeah.”

He knew who you were? You looked at him confused. 

“Professor Monk! I help with his corrections sometimes, I’ve read your papers, they’re really good,” he smiled. “C-can I get your number or something?” Something like panic flashed over his features, clearly shocked at his own words. 

You took out your phone and wrote out “I seriously doubt I’d be much fun, I don’t talk,” you showed it to him, and he chuckled. 

“I know sign language,” He smiled and your heart swelled. You didn’t know it now, but on your wedding day, he would admit that it was a very big lie. 

You held out your hand for his phone and he handed it over, you punched in your number and that was the start of your beautiful love story. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Through your life together, Spencer was always there for you, there to calm you down, speak for you, be there for you, and to love you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first night he heard you speak was a year and half into your relationship, it was purely accidental on your part, genuinely comfortable enough to just speak and you did. 

“You’re so funny,” you quietly said between his and your own laughter. His own smile grew, while your face heated. 

“You spoke,” he observed, holding you from behind, his taller figure engulfing yours. “You have a nice voice.”

You whispered a meek “thank you” and he could’ve sworn that his heart grew three sizes. He didn’t want to push you, he just kissed you on the cheek and continued on with his cooking while he internally freaked out. Despite being together so long, you still found ways to fluster and surprise him. The majority of the time, he spent feeling like a schoolboy with how smitten he was with you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, you knew Spencer would always have your back, always love you, and always care.

He promised you so on your wedding day.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds spencer reid

[ynbabe]

for a request: american motogp rider or bullrider!reader whos from the south x logan sargeant. i’m picturing a male reader but it can be fem 🫶

I've chosen Bullrider! Reader but I don't know jack shit about it lmao 😭

Southern hospitality ୨୧ Logan Sargeant x Male!Reader

Miami GP was good luck for Logan. It was almost like the car and track knew it was his home, he felt faster, stronger, and better on that track but it might also have been the looming threat of losing his job. The constant questioning of his talent and hard work.

He was also totally ignoring the mess that was his personal life, not that he had much outside of F1.

"Knock Knock," Someone tapped his head and declared with a smile in his voice.

"Wh- Alex?" He looked up at his teammate who sheepishly but not apologetically smiled back, skin pink from the sun.

"What were you thinking about?" He asked stealing Logan's 'panic spot' behind the motor home where he was leaning on some old tyres, though any spot could be a panic spot if Logan walked in.

This time he was nudged out of his head, "You're doing it again," he stated, a soft look too close to pity for comfort in his eyes.

"Nah man nothing much, home race and all you know?" He lied and Alex looked least convinced but they were both interrupted by the door opening.

"Hey guys, we've got some PR stuff to do," someone from the team announced. Of course, he was definitely gonna have to skip lunch today as well.

He kept replying to Alex's chatting, still convinced the older man suspected he was lying. He was okay, why wouldn't he be?

"O-oh my god," Alex interrupted himself and pushed an arm in front of Logan, making the blonde boy stop in his tracks confused. "Is that a real-life cowboy?" He all but screamed making Logan look around till he spotted a tanned man with y/h/c hair wearing a leather cowboy hat.

As they reached closer they could hear the thick southern accent the man had, around him were a few of the mechanics, some taking photos and others staring intently at his face or rather his chiselled chest that could be seen through the half-open white shirt the man wore.

"What the fuck?" For the first time in a long time, Logan's mind was clear.

"Logan, stop drooling, I get it but we're in public," Alex chastised, laughing while he pushed the both of them ahead.

Now Logan prided himself on being a mature guy, even as a kid everyone told him so, so why was he pulling and jumping over Alex like a teenage boy trying to show off in front of this really really attractive stranger?

The stopped just as they reached you, Alex's Pr manager was standing there already, looking annoyed at the two for being late.

"Y/n," He called the man who excused himself and walked over to where they were standing, "Logan, Alex, this is Y/n L/n our celebrity guest for Miami,"

The man in front of him laughed, his y/e/c eyes crinkling as he did.

“Now I wouldn’t say celebrity, but thank you sir,” he commented and the older man nodded, a stricter nod was given to Logan and Alex but both chose to ignore that.

They walked towards a shaded area, Y/n leading them, “Now I would say y’all are the real celebrities, drivin’ those cars at a million miles,” his voice (the accent) raised the hair at the back of Logan’s neck.

“Hahaha, thank you so much, so what do you do?” Alex asked, which made Logan glare at man, that was such a rude question! He could be a nepo-baby, it’s America Alex!

“Oh, I’m a bull rider,” he answered and suddenly Logan was chocking on air, it’s not his fault his brain was disgusting! “You okay, Sargeant,” the man, the literal bull rider had placed a hand on his shoulder and was asking him- wait what the fuck? Logan was a grown man, why is he acting like a teenage girl with a crush?

He straightened up, trying to clear his throat, “bull rider, huh,” he pointed to the hat, making the man smile, a slight blush spreading across his features.

“All a part of the brand, stole it from a teammate and it stuck,” he made a pained expression, half joking.

“Do you know J.B. Mauney?” Alex asked, reminding Logan that he was still there.

"Oh Lord," Y/n laughed, "He's my teammate," now it was Alex's turn to swoon.

"Really? Oh my God, he's so cool! My for you page is filled with his edits!" Alex told the man in front of him and the second-hand embarrassment Logan felt could have killed him only Alex didn't seem embarrassed at all, in fact, he was doubling down on the simp parade.

"Between you an' I, I had a pretty darn big crush on that man too," he confessed, winking at Logan. "I think you boys need to get goin' now but how bout we catch lunch? I heard they don't feed you good round here," Logan turned around and saw someone call for them and missed the way Alex looked between the two men standing significantly closer together than needed.

"Unfortunately, I've got a little lunch date with Lily," Alex feigned sadness but smiled wide.

Y/n turned to the blonde, raising a brow to which Logan couldn't help but nod yes.

As they walked away, Logan still reeling from the butterflies he got in his stomach every time the other man spoke, Alex bumped into him, giggling, "You are so welcome, mate," he laughed and walked into the building.

y/n/l/nofficial

y/n/l/nofficial told him not to eat the wasabi 🤷‍♂️

username Is this a soft launch?

username Oh?

username IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MEEEEE

username Istg I've seen that blonde before

username ong that hoodie too

You knew you had forgotten to tag Logan but you never expected people to expect he was your boyfriend! That post wasn't even that suggestive, was it? Oh god, it was going to be so embarrassing!

"Hey, Y/n you good?" Your teammate asked you causing you to throw your phone at the man, who laughed at the comments.

"This is why we keep PR managers, cowboy," he threw it back to you, "Hey at least you got another bull outta it-" he teased making you throw your pillow at him which he laughed at rushing out the room.

Your hand trembled over Logan's chat. Should you invite him out again? The lunch invitation already had you sweating under your collar like a thief in church. Why was talking to that Floridian getting you so nervous? You balanced on live bulls for a damn living!

Okay, oh god why wasn't he responding. You really fucked this up, next time you went out you were going to let that bull throw you nine ways to Sunday and then some more.

Could you blame this on autocorrect? Yeah, of course, everyone knew what a nuisance that damn thing was.

In the middle of your spiral, you got a few notifications, hoping it was Logan you quickly checked your phone, almost dropping it in the process.

logansargeant

logansargeant Southern Hospitality 🫡

username sir? Bro? Pookie bear? Come back home the kids miss you 😭

username Forgive me I wasn't aware of your game

username Guys can't they just be friends???

alexalbon You're welcome 🥰

username GIRL- WHAT DO YOU KNOW????

username IS THAT @/y/n/l/noffical

username I'D KNOW THAT DAMN SMILE ANYWHERE Stgsiagdfki

Request 1/5- DONE!! Updates will be weekly as I wanna make sure I get the best quality of each fic but TRUST your ask will be answered cause most are abt Logan and we stan that American boy in this damn blog here 😤

As always pls do let me know how y'all like the fic!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

#f1 #formula 1 #logan sargeant #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x male reader #alex albon #f1 social media au #f1 smau #anon request #thank u anon #anon ask

[xiao-come-home]

I love reading your random Boothill thoughts 🥲. Especially the one where he is a dad. Do you think he is a girl dad or boy dad?

Ahhh thank you! Ik you sent it before his story was leaked but man was this spot on 🫠 here’s some dad!boothill hc with reader because im starving

Warning: mentions of pregnant reader and all that jazz, SPOILERS FOR BOOTHILLS STORY.

I FELT IN MY BONES he was a girl dad before it was revealed to be canon! Boothill gives so much girl dad vibes it’s immaculate. He’d love to pick out pink clothes for his daughter, pink shoes, ponies and other plushies! Or rather, he loved.

That’s until you happened to get pregnant shortly before he left for his surgery. He came back a few weeks later with his new body, but no one was home. A small gift bag sat on the table, waiting for him; Boothill opened the bag and grabbed a piece of long paper, a black and white picture. A small bean present in the middle; the back of the picture held a tiny caption, that read: “I’m only a few weeks old. I can’t wait to meet you, daddy.”

Even though the wound was still fresh and open, since not long has passed since the incident on his planet - Boothill began to feel bitter determination to give his baby the best life they could ever have; this time, a life that wouldn’t see its end so fast.

Boothill is very interested in your pregnancy! He’s sometimes unable to go to every appointment (whether be it the ipc who are hunting him, or the opposite), but he knows he can’t mess it up. Not again. He’s always holding your hand when you have an ultrasound scan, glaring at the doctor and making sure they don’t hurt you or the baby, and giving your tummy so. many. kisses. He assists you in the bath, just talking to you can keeping you company, since water, cords and a pregnant human aren’t a good combo. He wants you to tell him everything.

That’s when you finally tell Boothill that you’ll have a baby girl - his mechanic heart shatters and swells with love at the same time; it’s such a strange feeling, that makes the cowboy feel a little guilty. Both of you fall silent, until Boothill makes a move and closes the distance between you, smiling sadly at you and softly caressing your stomach with his hand, “I’ll treasure her forever.”

There are days when Boothill truly feels like the hole in his heart cannot be healed after your first daughter, but he knows she’d love to have a little sister. Yet he’s here, now a cyborg and the only memory of her is just one, lonely picture. He makes sure to never let her existence fade away by telling your round tummy that he’ll love them both until the end.

On a happier note, Boothill is just. Such a good dad, but also a chaotic one sometimes, especially if your daughter inherits her dad’s personality. They’re doing everything together - if she wants to have her hair braided, he does so, and lets her braid his (even if his hair gets so tangled at first, to the point he has to cut it 😭), good god! He loves her so much and always hugs her so tightly when she runs up to him after she notices her dad is back home.

Boothill just loves hearing her little giggles and always makes her laugh! Sometimes he tickles her so much she throws her plushies at him.

Boothill wants all her milestones to be forever preserved. He has tons of pictures of her, a few photo albums - it’s never enough. He’s so proud when she says her first word, when she takes her first steps by herself, her first drawing for him (even if she drew it on the fridge with a black marker), her first birthday. He wants to give her everything she could ever have.

Boothill might've cried the night when his little baby drew him a family portrait - with you, herself, her daddy and older sister. He's injected in her every possible good memory about her, and she never fails to appreciate her older sister even if she isn't there, knowing her dad still loves her just as much.

When Boothill’s little princess cancels the weekly tea party he’s always attended, it’s HIM who feels sad about and pouty about it.

Boothill buys his daughter tons of different hats! They’re always carefully picked and he makes sure she likes them waiting for her approval, but most of the time she wants to just wear his. She doesn’t care she’s drowning in it, it’s the best because it’s Boothill’s hat.

Even though Boothill never mentioned her anything about playing guitar, one day she started to play him a tiny bit of song she learned at school - although clumsily and due to stress, Boothill listened to her and threw her in the air in happiness when she finished - he knew it was your job and couldn’t be more thankful. Once again, he made yet another guitar in his life - this time to finally listen to his little one’s music and teach her many, many other songs they’d later play and sing together.

Oh god, when Boothill’s daughter announced her “boyfriend” she met at daycare, he just stared at her with wide eyes. This is also an instance where he cried that night and you had to calm him down. Later on he insisted to be the one to take her to daycare, and gently threatened the said toddler, “look, stinker. Don’t ya dare GET NEAR ma lil’ angel, or else.” This was his last visit without your supervision. And also, your daughter just laughed at him and left… so yeah, plan failed successfully, I guess?

Mandatory naps with daddy after daycare. Well, Boothill only pretends to sleep when she looks at him - but once she falls asleep on his chest, he looks at her with so much love, gently resting on his chest and stroking her hair, that was just like his and adoring her tiny face, that he thought was the most perfect mix of you and him. Boothill shushes you with his finger quietly, when you ungraciously enter your home. A content smile appears on his lips when you give him and your daughter an apologetic kiss on their foreheads, still hearing her snoozing tenderly.

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #.thirst

[tangledupinyellow]

A Hard Day's Night | Joel Miller X F!Reader

authors note: after a hell of a lot of internet problems, here's a little something that's been chilling in my drafts!

summary: You’ve been waiting all day for Joel to come home from work.

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak au, nicknames (darling, baby girl, good girl), oral (m receiving), praise kink, some face fucking, Joel finishing in readers mouth

word count: 1.8k

You knew that sound all too well, the sound of the front door creaking open, followed by a groan and a rustle of a jacket being taken off. Joel had gotten off late yet again from his shift, something you were used to by now.

You were still up, lying in bed while staring at the ceiling with your hands folded on your chest. You always had trouble sleeping without Joel by your side, which kept you awake while waiting for him to come home. Even after years of dating, you couldn’t sleep without knowing he wasn’t there next to you.

Joel groggily slipped off his shoes and went straight to the living room couch, just dying to sit down. He let out a satisfied groan, the feeling of sitting down on something comfortable being just what he needed.

He tiredly rubbed his face and eyes, trying to regain some energy. His body was sore, and his head was pounding. These late nights at work were starting to take a toll on him. 

Leaning back against the couch, he tried to relax, seeking any comfort he could from the soft cushions. He took his head out of his hands and ran them through his hair with a sigh. It was a relief to finally be back home.

You threw your legs off the bed and put your robe on, making your way out of the bedroom to go and check on him to see how his day was. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked over when he heard the bedroom door open.

“I thought you were asleep,” Joel mumbled. His voice made it easy to tell how tired he was. He sounded like he had just woken up and was still half asleep.

You shook your head, tying up your robe while walking over to him, “Can’t sleep without you. I wanted to wait ‘till you got home.” You offered him a smile before sitting beside him on the couch.

Joel sighed and shook his head, feeling guilty, “You don’t need to wait for me, darlin’. You need your sleep too, y’know.” He looked at you, dark circles forming underneath his eyes.

You put your hand on his head and shook your head once more, “Can’t fall asleep without you even if I tried,” you told him simply, “Besides, I like being up when you get home. I wanna hear about your day even if it’s nearly midnight.”

He chuckled at this before leaning back against the couch to try and relieve the soreness he felt all over his body, “Wasn’t all that excitin’. I was outside for most of the day, doin’ a lot of hands on work. God, I’m gettin’ too old for this.” He laughed.

You laughed softly with him and rubbed his knee, “Ready to climb into bed?”

Joel thought to himself for a moment before shaking his head, “Thought I’d stay up for a little bit longer, grab something to eat or watch some tv,” he shrugged, “Wanna enjoy myself for at least a little while before I gotta get back to work.”

You nodded understandingly and kept your eyes on him while he reached forward to grab the remote that was sitting on the coffee table. Leaning back in his seat, he pointed the remote to the television to turn it on.

Joel flipped through the channel, his eyes glued on the screen while the light illuminated his face. You, on the other hand, had your eyes glued to him.

You had missed him all day, and you hated to see him so exhausted and beat up from a long, hard day of work.

You squeezed his knee gently and sighed softly while you looked at him, wanting to do whatever you could to make him feel better. And you knew a few ways to instantly boost his mood, especially a few that you would enjoy.

With a slight smirk forming on the corner of your lips, you kissed his cheek before getting off the couch.

Joel looked back over at you with an unmistakable look of confusion on his face. But that look of confusion slowly turned into realization when he saw you get on your knees right in front of him. His eyes widened slightly, there was a faint blush on his cheeks, and his dick twitched in his pants, anticipating what was about to come.

You kept your eyes on him as you unzipped his pants with ease, licking your lips. You enjoyed this just as much as he did. You always loved to make him feel good, and this was one of your favorite ways.

And you knew that this would help him relax almost instantly after a long, long day.

“Darlin’, fuck..” Joel groaned as he watched you pull down his underwear, his cock standing straight up with the tip leaking out a little bit of pre cum.

“I want to help you relax.” You whispered, rubbing his thighs slowly, glancing between his dick and his lust-filled eyes.

Joel bit his lower lip as he stared at you and let out another quiet groan before leaning back in his seat, his arms spread around the couch with his head resting on the cushion. He slowly closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully relax and focus on how you were making him feel.

With a gentle grip, you grabbed the base of his cock and gave it a couple of strokes, your mouth already watering at the sight. He twitched in your hand, and you loved making him wait just a little bit longer and seeing how badly he needed you.

While keeping your eyes on him, you slowly put his tip into your mouth, causing him to suck in a deep breath. He gripped onto the couch cushions while he stared at you, watching your every move. The feeling of his dick in your mouth was one of his most favorite feelings to experience. Each time, it only got better and better, and he could never get sick of it. It was like a drug for him.

You closed your eyes while keeping a tight grip on the base of his cock, easing up and down on the tip with your mouth. You licked over his tip, his pre cum all over your tongue. He moaned at the sensation and stared down at you, slowly moving one of his hands to tangle into your hair.

“Fuck, too damn good at this.” He already sounded out of breath as he spoke. And you’ve barely even started. You’ve just always had this effect on him.

You smirked slightly at his praise and started to take him a little deeper, keeping it gradual while you moved up and down his cock with your mouth.

His eyes were glued onto you, unable to look away. He was mesmerized.

You moved your hand up and down along with your mouth, keeping a tight grip while you went in deeper, knowing precisely what he liked and what he wanted. A moan that left his lips confirmed that for you.

Spit drooled out from your mouth and onto your hand as you quickened up your pace, getting deeper with each time you went back down onto his dick. His breathing was getting hitched, and he tangled his fingers up in your hair, starting to guide you with his hand.

“Mmm yeah, just like that baby girl…” Joel groaned out as he guided your mouth up and down his dick with his hands in your hair.

You hummed against his cock in response and kept going, just like how he wanted.

He rubbed your head and kept his hand in your hair, leaning his head further back so that you could see the veins in his neck when you would glance up at him occasionally. 

Your hand moved at the same pace with your mouth, wanting to give him the most pleasure possible. You could feel yourself getting wet in your panties from all of the moans and quiet whimpers you heard from him. With each praise he gave you, you felt yourself getting even wetter. There was nothing better than making him feel like this.

“That’s it, fuck…” Joel moaned a little louder and gripped your hair, a slight growl leaving his throat, “Such a good girl on your knees for me like this…”

When you heard him, a little whimper came from your mouth as well. You could listen to him praise you for hours on end. It made this just as enjoyable and fun for you as it was for him.

You had to resist the urge to reach down to touch yourself, wanting to focus on just him and only him. You wanted to make him feel good, and for now, that was your main focus.

Joel’s lips were parted ever slightly as he stared at you through his eyelashes, his chest heaving up and down slowly. How you looked back up at him with such beautiful big eyes was just what he needed after a hard day of work. All he needed was you.

Spit drooled out from your mouth as you tried to go as deep as you possibly could while still keeping up with the quick pace. Each time, you went deeper than the last, and Joel would let out a moan each time you did.

You could feel that he was getting close by the way his dick twitched in your mouth, and his whimpers became more frequent. You knew this man like the back of your hand, and you knew just what you needed to do to help him finish.

You kept a tight grip and just focused on bringing him to his climax. His hands moved down from your hair onto your shoulders, digging his nails into your shirt. You could feel him shaking just slightly as he held you, signaling he was getting closer.

“Mmm, fuck… Fuck m’gonna cum baby girl…” Joel drew out as he kept his eyes on you, panted breaths leaving his parted lips.

You squeezed and scratched his naked thighs gently, almost as if giving him permission to finish. 

One hand gripped onto your shoulder while the other grabbed your hair as he leaned back with a loud moan, spurts of his come flooding into your mouth. You hummed quietly and closed your eyes as you took in every last drop, slowly pulling away and licking his tip cheekily while staring up at him.

Joel had his eyes on you the entire time. He chuckled quietly, letting out a sigh, “You sure do know how to make me feel better, don’t ya?” He laughed, his heart rate still beating rapidly.

You chuckled along with him and licked your lips before slowly sitting back on the couch with him, pecking his lips gently before responding with a grin, “I always do.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #18+ #female reader #writing #fiction #smut #joel miller smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut

[teastainedprose]

🔞Gash (Cooper Howard / The Ghoul x Reader)

You've been stabbed and The Ghoul means to patch you up, save for the problem of a metal shard lost in the wound. 1,435 words | This is smut if wound fingering counts. All about pain and looking at Cooper's stupid pretty face and PAIN and Cooper's finger in an open wound, pet names, wound cleaning, blood, more pain. No proofreading, take it raw bb. I blame @ghoulphile for egging me on.

Luck was with the man who managed to sheath his knife into your gut. Luck protected you as he missed puncturing anything important, only slicing meat and fat. Luck would have Cooper right there moments later putting a bullet through the bastard's brains as his luck promptly ran out. Lucky to have the old ghoul catch you before you crumpled to the ground.

Lady Luck was having a fucking field day. That bitch.

Your thoughts swirl, snagging on the present. You're trying to keep your mind set off to the side, away from your body. Away from the burning wet pain of your seeping wound, but it tugs you right back. Your body demands that you feel this, the gaping wound in your gut a wrongness your breakable mortal form insists you can't ignore.

Blood leaks down your hip as you groan from the press of Cooper's fingers around the gaping flesh of the gash in your side to take proper stock of it. Beside you on the table rests the knife you'd been stabbed with, save for the tip. That's currently buried in your guts. The blade is a rusty thing, old and brittle. The thought of that extra bit of metal swimming about inside you sits ill. Your vision blurs, a queasiness rolling over as your head rolls to the side.

Cooper notices your far away gaze, pausing in his inspection to clasp your chin in his glove covered fingers. The ones that are thankfully not covered in your blood. The other hand prodding at your flesh has bare fingers, calloused texture a distant pleasantry. He'd yanked that glove off with his teeth. Skin to bloody skin now. How intimate. 

"Now, dove." The words are a soft puff of breath against your cheek as you refocus. "Keep them pretty eyes open for me now." His attention shifts back to your wound while do as commanded.

"Stuck you real good, girlie." Cooper murmurs, eyes hooded from your inspection at this angle. He continues to mind your wound, bare fingers tracing your abdomen as if to feel from the outside where the rusty intrusion is. "Gonna hav'ta clean it proper. Needin' to dig the tip out."

All you can do is nod absently, drinking in every detail of his face. His black-as-night lashes are clearly visible this close, looking as pretty as can be. They add extra shadow to the sunken hollow about his eyes. He glances up, the swirling deep forest green and brown of his gaze catching you. You suck in a breath as Cooper's nail catches on the cut.

Teeth snap shut with a click as you bare them at Cooper. He smirks right back at you. He knows it hurts, but there's no helping it. All you can do is grimace and bear it while trying to divert your attention from the throbbing in your abdomen.

Your study of him is your current distraction. It's working well enough, mind content to catalogue the sharp lines of his face as you sit there panting quietly. There's the detached burn of alcohol as he dabs your wound with a soaked cloth, pulling a shiver across your skin in response.

Focus. Focus on the face of The Ghoul intently working. How there's the rough texture of his ravaged skin before your eyes. His skin is rusty in color, an earthy shade. It reminds you of the red clay from your long-abandoned home. His skin is just as baked and cracked as that dirt was. A delicious contrast to the richer red of his lips. Funny how he looks all sorts of dried up, but you know those lips to be softer than expected. Soft and pliant when pressed against your own with the wet press of his tongue darting out and-

You curse as your thoughts shatter into sharp glass, body instinctively lurching away from what hurts you. Cooper snatches your thigh, fingers digging in as he holds you steady.

"Now, now. Easy there, dove." His eyes flick to your face again. He's got a finger crooked into the gash. It feels wrong. "Told you I need to get that piece out. Breath, nice and easy."

You inhale. His head cants to the side as he waits. You exhale. Cooper nods as his finger digs deeper into the wound, feeling about. You swear he just brushed viscera with a fingertip.

It makes you dizzy, feeling his finger rooting around in the open wound as he tries to nudge out the knife bit. Forceps would have been a good idea, maybe some pliers? Something thinner than Cooper's gnarled fingers. You've memorized those digits intimately, but never expected to know them here. In your fucking guts.

It hurts. Of course it fucking does, but it's a wrong sort of pain. The sensation keeps flipping your stomach over and over. You want to empty the contents of it, but know that'll hurt worse with the state you're in.  Your eyes lose focus as Cooper clicks his tongue. 

"Focus. Eyes on me like I said, darlin'." He waits a beat as you blink, refocus. "Attagirl," his tone is even and coaxing, trying to keep you calm as if you're a startled brahmin. His finger continues to root around in your open wound, feeling for that stray bit of metal.

There's a twisted sort of intimacy in having Cooper's fingers delving into the wound, a sick parody of what else he's buried in you on better days.

You moan, a low sound pulled deep from within you involuntarily. It hurts.

"Now dove... That ain't the sort of cooing you should be makin' right now,'' amusement laces his words as he studies your face. His finger goes still to let you settle. It takes a moment, adjusting to the intrusion because his finger has sunk deeper. Your body is trying to reject the invasion, nerves flaring up with clear alarm.

You huff in response, shooting Cooper a sour look as a tremor runs through your strained body. It's not your fault your pain sounds are similar to the ones you make when he's rutting into you. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as Cooper gets back to work.

"Can feel it at my fingertip, jus' let me-" The digging is a burning invasion now as he presses deeper, finger crooking. You can feel the tug of something else scraping your insides as you suck in a sudden breath. He catches that bit of rusty metal, tugs and then it's over.

Cooper holds up the metal shard in front of your face with a yellow grin. "Got it."

You promptly drop your forehead against his shoulder with a whine. Blood leaks sluggishly from the wound now.

"There, there. I gotcha, dove. Now, you let me clean you up proper." His gloved hand rubs your back briefly before he gently sets you upright. Cooper is quicker to clean out the wound, caring little for how the alcohol he pours directly on it burns as he flushes it out. It's almost a welcomed sensation after the nausea induced fingering he'd just been up to.

He pauses, considering a moment before Cooper pops the same bloody finger he'd just had inside of you into his mouth. You can only watch in a detached way, pain keeping you pacified as Cooper makes sure to lick his hand clean of your blood.

"Disgusting," you sigh. It's half-hearted. You've seen him ingest far worse. 

"What? I'm a ghoul, sweetheart," he smirks. "Figure only way I'm gonna get a taste of that."

"Can you please fucking get me that Stimpak already?"

He tuts while wiping his hand clean of your blood on a spare rag before obliging. Cooper smoothly jabs the needle directly above your wound without warning, earning a hiss from you but your resentment instantly melts away.

This time you moan in pleasure, soothed as the endorphins rush your system in a cooling wave of comfort. A detached floaty feeling settles over you instantly as you relax, eyes drifting shut. A content smile settles on your lips while Cooper busies himself properly bandaging up your wound and wiping away the excess blood. His fingers linger, the bare ones ghosting up your side as a tremor runs through you for a wholly different reason now.

Slowly, you open your eyes again as you once more slump into his warmth. The scent of leather, gunpowder and something uniquely him fill your nostrils as you inhale.

"Better, dove?"

"Mhhm," You hum in contentment.

"That's my girl," He purrs as he hooks an arm about your waist and gently tugs you closer. "Now how's about we see about thankin' me proper for saving your sorry ass?"

#Cooper Howard x Reader #The Ghoul x Reader #Fallout #Fallout fanfic #fallout writing #The Ghoul #Cooper Howard #it's gore gore gooreee #I still feel like I wrote smut tho!?!? #squint and this is actually about taking his HUGE GHOUL CO- / gets shot #He'd get off to this shit #I blame the Hannibal fandom for this idea #Ghoul pretty #Ghoul encoraging~ #x reader #drabble

[astralis-ortus]

game for two

✱ husband!bc × gn!reader

— guess who just got his old yearbook in the mail?

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff, married life!au, non-idol!chan warnings → minor cussing (light hearted context), chan referred to as chris

coming home from work, you’re usually greeted with one of the following­—an empty house, a soft reverberating beat from the small, cozy studio located at one end of your home, or a soft snore while some romance movie thickens its plot on the screen of your neatly mounted tv.

a view of your husband with a stack of books on his lap, however, was not exactly something you would ever have in your bingo card.

“whatcha up to?” became your follow up question after chris’ quick how-was-your-day debrief. it didn’t take you long before promptly securing the spot next to your husband, where he—judging from the way your ivory-colored couch emanates heat—had been hanging around on for quite some time now. “i don’t think i’ve seen those books before.”

“mm, just got them in the mail today,” chris hummed, an arm swiftly encaged your figure as he attempts wrap you in his warmth, “mum and dad found these in the attic while they were clearing out the house. thought would be better to keep these here than to fill up space in their new home.”

it only took you a second to realize what kind of book your husband has been flipping through when a familiar-yet-way-younger-looking dimpled smile came into view, eternally captured in the printed sheet. “oh! baby chris!”

“good lord,” a chuckle ignited from the depth of his chest, ones that always pair with the soft crinkles near his eyes and sometimes a nuzzle to your hair when he couldn’t stand the adoration bubbling in his heart, “i was an angsty, moody teenager there, not a baby.”

“sure, whatever you say, baby,” you teased, emphasizing the word as you stole the perfectly conditioned yearbook from his hands. you’ve seen countless of chris’ teenager years' pictures, sure, but what harm could it bring to have a peek at more?

chris comically let out a sigh as he rolled his eyes—a signature telltale of his attempt to ‘look’ annoyed. “you’d really be in a huge trouble if you call an angsty teenager a baby, you know.”

“i don’t, actually,” eyeing the faint playful glint in chris’ eyes, you decided to lure him into a game. after all, what’s a more fun way to spend your evening than to bicker with your husband? “what would this-” you pointed at his half-heartedly grinning self of the past, “-angsty teenager do if teenager me called him a baby?”

another set of chuckles escapes him—ones louder, which, more often than not, indicates his approval of the arena you’ve built.

he’s in the game.

“well, for starters,” chris tilted his head, quite obviously setting himself to get a full view of your reaction just by gauging the godawfully attractive smirk he got etched on his lips, “i’d probably…”

“…probably?”

his way of building suspense will one day definitely be the death of you. really. if you were honest to yourself, you would actually rather kiss that damned smirk off his face right now—but the game has just started, and you’d hate to lose to your husband on your own little trick.

only… would he even let you win?

“well…” shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, chris continued,

”i’d probably tell you to fuck off.”

the way your grin transformed into a face of utter disbelief was enough of a trigger to fill the room with echoes of chris’ laugh, filling the space with the kind of warmth you’ve only known after you met him. for now, however, you feel like you’ve been betrayed.

“that’s rude!” you huffed, incredulous. though arms are now completely folded in front of your chest, chris knew you’d still let him push more of your buttons; otherwise, why would you still melt into him?

“i’m your future wife! how could you tell me to fuck off?”

“in his defense, he didn’t know that!” he countered, wiping a stray tear which had involuntarily escaped while he was celebrating his first strike. "he was just a kid who thought the world in general was a mean ol' crone, so he just, you know, returned the energy."

"meeting you, however," setting his yearbooks aside, chris then took the chance to entrap you in his arms, "has changed my view about the world—for the better—and i owe you my life for that."

you've been speculating that there's something going on about chris' voice—is he a siren? or is he actually a highly skilled mage? how is it that his voice alone has never failed to untangle every single jumbled up knots under your skin?

or maybe, just maybe, the problem is you—because unknowingly, somewhere along the way, chris had long become your achilles heels.

"...shut up, christopher."

"aw- look at your ear! they're burning!"

"shut up!"

"heh- i love you too, baby."

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

#stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #chan x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #bang chan x you #skz x you #stray kids x you #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #skz au #stray kids au #bang chan au #isa's fics

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

˚˙⊹⁺. ⋆ ❝ 𝙬𝙚’𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 ❞ ⛆ ﾟ ˚˙⊹⁺.

↳ ❝ ¡love and deepspace headcannons for when you’re feeling down (because hot girls are chronically sad)! ❞

༄𓇢𓆸⋆°•☁︎

xavier

he notices you’ve been more down after missions, faking smiles, going straight home after missions instead of lingering about stirring up more trouble

he’s not sure how to approach, him personally if he was in a mood he wouldn’t want nobody talking to him

then he remembers that you and him are not the same, you two never were, you needed that check in

so after work he offers to walk with you back home, after all you two are neighbors

you were hesitant, you just wanted the time to yourself— you weren’t in the mood for making conversation

but he picks up on that and only offers a comfortable silence, you appreciate it

once you make it back he’s hesitant to just let you get off on your floor

so he lies

he mentions that there was some new information about the no hunt zone that would be useful in your journey

he feels bad when he sees you slightly perk up at his fib

so when you follow him up to his apartment waiting on the info, he tries to deflect

what better way to offer to make dinner?

suddenly all thoughts about that information disappears from your mind replaced with the concern that xavier might burn the entire complex down

you spend the evening begrudgingly helping out with dinner although you seem to be more at ease, more like your old self

before the two of you know it, you had a comforting meal in front of you

it was a comfortable silence between the two of you, you had made food that you probably wouldn’t have made if you had just gone back to your apartment and the complex was in one piece— you’d consider that a win

on the other side of the table, he eyes you with the intention to see what was on your mind

you definitely seemed to be in higher spirits but he was still undoubtedly worried about you

he wasn’t exactly sure how to approach

until you hear your message notification go off

“are u okay?”

you can’t help but look up at him, you literally were sitting across from him

another ding, another message

“i wasn’t sure if u were up for talking— figured this would be easier for u”

you couldn’t help but smile softly at his thoughtfulness

the two of you text back and forth, sneaking glances at one another after the other sent a message

it was easier to articulate your thoughts over text no matter how long it took you to form the words

and when you got stuck or frustrated with typing an explanation, he’d reach across the table putting a hand over yours

“it’s okay.”

he was still new to being a comforting presence in your life but little did he know that it would come easy to him

as the evening dwindled down, he insists he’ll do the dishes in the morning— right now he just wants to take care of you

so what did that entail? he had cheesy romantic movies from a multitude of decades at his disposal ready to sleep through watch with you

as you two get comfortable on the couch, he makes sure that you’re tucked into his side with an arm comfortably around you

as the movie goes on you’re definitely in higher spirits, sure your problems were still there but today they didn’t manage to consume you

and you had the big warm teddy bear of a man who was running his fingers through your hair like one pets a cat to thank

rafayel

he’s actually so insufferable LMAO

you’ve been in one of your moods for ages now and his constant whining and fits whenever you weren’t around was taxing for you

essentially you lowkey ghost him (and everyone else he’s not special lol)

it’s funny because he always complains about not knowing where you are like he doesn’t have your location (this man would LOVE life360)

he sees that you haven’t left your apartment in days and takes matters into his own hands

you wake up from your third (?) nap that day to some loud obnoxious knocking, you were not pleased considering that you had a gentle doorbell that was easier to sleep through

right when you open the door to tear whoever out there a new one, your angry eyes lock onto those beautiful familiar ones

he wanted to throw a fit right then and there about how you’ve constantly ignored his calls and texts and how you haven’t left your apartment but he sees it in your eyes

it was the last thing you needed

so he practically invites himself in with a bag of groceries in tow

you open your mouth to protest but he swiftly shuts you down

“you look terrible.”

you should curse him out, that’s what you’re feeling at the moment but you also know he doesn’t deserve that

you just give him a tired look

“thanks.”

he makes you go take a shower while he gets started on a seafood dinner (can we talk about this??? like this man is a CANNIBAL enjoying a whole seafood boil like THATS YO FRIENDS)

you come out the shower feeling a bit better so you go to the kitchen

he’s yapping to the poor crabs he had boiling in the pot

“she’s lucky she has me y’know? or else she would’ve just wasted away— i know right! even after she practically disappeared on me! okay… yeah i knew she was at home the entire time but i can’t help but worry!”

you clear your throat and he throws a cheeky smile your way

“just confiding with my counsel.”

you refrain from commenting on how he should let the poor crabs boil in peace

it isn’t long before he has a plentiful seafood spread, he keeps putting more food on your plate (not seafood but like the garnish stuff— he gives you all his potatoes lol)

you’re not exactly making conversation with him but that’s okay, he can talk enough for the both of you

especially when he’s complaining about how you left him alone

“what was i supposed to do with myself without my bodyguard— thomas just isn’t as efficient!”

somewhere, someplace thomas lets out a sneeze

the conversation gets exhausting at some point and he starts to catch on, when he notices that you’re practically done he kicks you out to the living room so he can clean up

you offer to help but he’s not having it

you opt for waiting for him on your couch, full of food and in an arguably better headspace than you were in before you start to nod off

“don’t tell me you’re falling asleep on me?”

your eyes snap open

he has no issue plopping down on the couch next to you

“seriously miss bodyguard, you’re killing me here— you’re supposed to be bringing your a game.”

his joking tone is quick to become serious as he takes your hand in his

“talk to me, please…?”

you let out a sigh and explain your depressive slump

saying it out loud made you feel even more pathetic but he’s quick to pick up the pieces cupping your face with the upmost care

“you deserve the world y’know that?”

you blink, his words not processing

“allow yourself grace pretty girl, nobody expects you to carry it all on your own— at least i don’t.”

his fingers lightly trace your features, he wears a gentle smile with you

it’s not often you’re on the receiving side of comfort with him, it felt nice

“oh you poor thing…”

you didn’t realize the tears slipping out until he was wiping them away with the pads of his thumb

he pulls your head into the warmth of his chest, his fingers gently combing through your hair as the sound of his heartbeat lulled you towards a peaceful sleep

“you’ll be okay.”

zanye

he hears about your injuries not from you or the agency— but from some idle chatter that the nurses were having

“those hunters who were sent up to the mountains, they took quite the beating last i heard.”

it didn’t take much for him to approach the nurses and coax them into giving him more information about what they heard

which leads him to send you texts and calls, but you weren’t answering

it seems like he was sent on a wild goose chase before finding you at the hunter agency’s practice grounds to his dismay

you’re bandaged up from your torso to your right shoulder, the tank top you sported aided in displaying you plentiful bruises

you were target practicing, your aim was sloppy, unfocused

he approaches you in caution, less he gets caught in the crossfire of your state

upon moving closer he can’t ignore the fatigue that was etched onto your face

one of your shots recoil causing you to stumble

he took this as an opportunity to get to your side and steady you

“you’re hardly effective in this state.”

his little quips about her lack of involvement in her own health sometimes were normal, so why did the air get frigid— more so than usual

“is that all i am? my worth tied to my usefulness, if i’m not effective i’m nothing.”

he did not mean to uncover this

but it was obvious, there was something deeper at play

“i did not wish to offend.”

you let out a sigh, of course he didn’t— you blew up on him with no grounds for doing so

you keep your head low, ready to aim another shot at one of the targets, your arm trembling

he puts his hand over yours, extending his arm as well, gently pushing down for you to lower your aim

“you’ll run yourself into the ground.”

“i have a job to do dr. zayne.”

“then you understand that i’m going to do mine.”

he practically drags you out of the training grounds, ready to scold and lecture you but he sees your defeated, tired look

it can wait

he takes you back to your apartment where he properly addresses your wounds and gathers what he needs to redo your bandages

but even after all that, he still sees your exhausted dejected look— he curses the fact that he can’t treat your worries and burdens

so he opts for the next best thing

he abandons the bandages for a moment and pulls you to your feet

you give him a tired, confused look

“come, i’ll run you a bath.”

he knows your apartment like the back of his hand as he guides you to your bathroom

he seats you on the toilet seat before undressing you carefully, you shiver slightly as the air hits your bare skin

had this been any other circumstance you would’ve protested and grown embarrassed at the intimacy

but you were just so tired

your thoughts are drowned out by the sound of the water filling the tub, the ambiance was calming until his voice snaps you out of it

he had been calling your name

he pulls you up, making sure you’re steady before helping you into the bathtub

you fret about the water you accidentally splashed out but he quiets you in an act of reassurance as he lowered you into the tub

“shh, it’s no matter— i’ll handle it later.”

you can’t help but sigh at his words, he always knew how to put you at ease

the hot water caused you to hiss as he lowered you in, immediately after relief filled your achy body

“careful now, i need you upright.”

his words were gentle as he steadied you, keeping you from sinking into the water

from there he bathed you with the upmost care, cautious of your wounds

you leaned into his touch as you closed your eyes

regardless of whether or not you admitted it out loud, he knew you needed this

he could tell you were starting to drift in and out of consciousness

but that just meant he had to hold on to you a little bit tighter

when you come to you’re no longer in the bathtub but rather in your bed, dressed in some loose pajamas that wouldn’t aggravate your freshly wrapped wounds

you try to shift around and make sense of your surroundings but the strong arms around your torso make those attempts futile

“lay still, i’ve got you.”

the voice rumbles right behind you as you relax, he was your safety net after all

and when you had fallen to one of your lows, he caught you

❀° ┄───╮

a/n: yall trying to put this out was like pulling teeth BAVDVDBSNENHEHS i hate uni so much why do i have to go to an academic institution im just a girl ☹️☹️☹️

the way i write headcannons/bullet point to avoid actually writing because im lazy el oh el

anywhozies i have more half baked ideas in the drafts its really a matter of when im not drained to write and finish them 😵‍💫

that’s it from me in the meantime love you all mwahhhhh 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

╰───┄ °❀

#Spotify #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne x reader #love and deepspace rafayel x reader #love and deepspace xavier x reader #love and deep space #zayne lads #xavier lads #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads x reader #rafayel lads #lads headcanons

[hypnotiiize]

𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥’𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: this is real old and angsty like not for fake. it’s short though. also i grew up catholic so u gotta bear w the lil references and shit. trigger warning religious talk kinda

She couldn’t remember much of the year if she was being honest. 

She could remember her best friends’ wedding.

She could remember Valentine’s day.

She could remember March and April breezing past her, a mixture of Easter and celebrating her friend’s birthday.

She could remember the drowsiness that overcame her in May. She could remember how it followed her well into June.

She could remember her friend’s baby being born, and she could remember smiling down at his tiny squished face.

And she was happy for them, she was. But, when she found herself in her newly quiet home at the end of the day, the reality remained that she was alone. Utterly alone. No one to turn to. No one to rely on. Alone. She felt that this was her fault. 

When her friend called and cried to her about new motherhood delivering a swift kick to her backside, she accepted the opportunity to stay with her friends for a few days, maybe even weeks— however long it would take for her friend to get back on her feet with a new addition to the household.

The record was three weeks. July was almost over. Amelie, ever-grateful, had even told her that she could go back home if she wanted. The woman, not wanting to overstay her welcome, accepted that as well.

She had been accepting a lot of things, it seemed. She would leave the following week, after the event that was planned meticulously for the baby.

It was when she was getting ready to go to sleep early— the baby had a habit of scream-crying at the break of dawn and she liked being up with him— that she received a knock at the guest bedroom door. Curious, she tip-toed across the room and found herself opening the door to reveal her tired friend whose smile grew as she rocked her fast-asleep son. [y/n] invited them in and grabbed the baby at once, sitting on the bed with his little body cradled in her arms. 

“Okay, I wanted to tell you so that you weren’t, like, bombarded with this,” Amelie began after a small chat about how the baby had just done something cute.

She involuntarily put pressure on her eyebrows, furrowing them together.

Amelie folded her hands in her lap. “You know his baptism is next week and you know you’re his Godmother, of course... I tried to talk Trent out of it, but he’s going to make you know who his Godfather.”

She could feel herself gasp at the mention of you know who. She definitely knew who. 

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I get it. And I get it if you’re not ready to see him. I can have someone else step in as his Godmother for the ceremony if you can’t do it. You don’t have to go to the party. What are you feeling?” Amelie asked.

She bit the skin of her bottom lip. She looked down at the almost two-month-old who looked so much like her friends that it was crazy. He was blinking up at her with his bottom lip poked out, looking scandalized. She laughed and rubbed the pad of her finger over his dark waves.

“I’m feeling a little overwhelmed… But I can do it. I don’t care about him. This is for my Godbaby. Right? This is for my Godson,” she cooed to the baby who half-smiled. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Sure. Yes. Yeah.” She was trying to convince herself more than anything and she knew it. “No one cares about that man, anyway. It’s just Rayan’s day..” The baby smiled as if he knew what they were talking about, and the women fussed over him a bit more. When the familiar weight pressed itself against her shoulders, She sighed. “I need a drink.”

“Go raid Trent’s cabinet, girl. You know he’s not shy about Don Julio,” her friend joked about her husband.

There was a painful twang in her chest at once. Her husband. Her friend was joking about her husband. A man who she shared a child, a home, and a life with.

She could taste iron. She would later realize that she had bit the inside of her cheek open. For now, she chopped the stinging sensation up to the of moths fumbling about in her stomach. 

Her friend took her Godson and she was left alone once more. She laid her head on the linen pillow and stared blankly at the room before her. Wistfully, she imagined Amelie and Trent embracing each other at the end of the very long day. She imagined them nuzzling against the other as they gazed down at their sleeping baby boy. Then, she imagined everything that could have been.

She fell into a slumber with remnants of saline tears on her cheeks, and she woke up days later wearing a crisp white blouse and her best earrings. Rayan’s baptism. 

He barely left his mother’s arms that day. He was tiny and it was a big day for him and he was wearing a long, pristine white dress that used to be his grandfather’s when he was that small. So Rayan slept, and she tried not to kick open the church doors and run as far as her legs could take her. 

She knew he was in the room. She could feel it. If she opened her mouth to speak, she could taste it. If she inhaled too deeply, she could smell it. His presence was the sustenance that her soul had been missing for far too long and she was being punished for it. Her hands were shaking. She slipped off to the bathroom three times before she realized that her issues could affect the day. Being unreliable or looking flaky was the last thing she’d wanted to do after making it so far through the day. When she sat back down in the pews, she crossed her hands extra tight in her lap and kept her neck arched high. She would shake it off. This was for Rayan. 

After some time she stood with her friends and made her way to the front of the church. She could feel him behind her. Then beside her. She willed herself not to look at him and focused solely on swearing to remain a key figure in the baby’s life.

For you, I’ll do my best. 

He made his pledges after her. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. He was so close to her. She could feel the echo of his baritone in her feet. She could taste iron, far more pronounced this time.

The baby was placed in her arms, and the metallic flavor dissipated at once. She secured her arm around his head and tugged his gown down. He whined, only to stop a second later when his mother kissed his hand. 

The priest asked the Godparents to move closer. She stepped forward and nodded when appropriate. The priest said something that she didn’t really catch. She had been too busy making sure Rayan was comfortable. Brown hands came forward and untied the loose strings around the baby’s neck. He pulled the baby’s hat off. She could hear the ocean in her head. 

She leaned forward and lowered her elbow an inch. The priest placed his hands in the tub of water before him and her. He poured water on the baby’s dark tufts of hair. One hand, then two, then another for good measure. Rayan let out a short cry from the temperature of the water.

“It’s okay, honey, you did great,” she whispered to her Godson when it was all over. She held him tighter, closer to her face.

“Maybe he’s cold,” the familiar voice said. “Here, let me put his hat back on.” Brown hands came into view and she watched him make the loose loop-the-loop. Rayan calmed down. 

Rayan’s parents came and uttered softly to their son. His mother fought tears. His father let them glide down his cheeks freely, rubbing the top of the baby’s bonnet with a thumb. 

“Hey,” the Godfather’s low voice was saying. He was not whispering. Anyone could have heard him. Though, when she thinks back on the moment, she can remember the soft, whispering tickle of his breath hitting her ear. She wanted him to be whispering. 

 She greeted him back weakly and she did not try to hide it. With everyone focused on Rayan, the awkward encounter would just be their own and she could not muster the strength to make it anything but. 

The corner of his mouth quirked up, weakly too, and he said, “You look really nice.”

All at once, she could hear the ocean. She could hear volcanoes erupting. She could feel the familiar sharp chill of ice, and she could smell the smoke of paper burning. 

She could not remember what her response was, or if she even responded at all. She could only remember the pain of living without the only man she had loved for months after being together for so long.

Through the fog, a voice prompted, “Let’s get a pic with the Godparents.”

She craned her head and found herself staring at a man that she had gone to school with. Kareem was known for being tall, charismatic, and a photographer. Therefore, she was not surprised that her friend had invited him to the gathering. Though she wished that someone would have filled him in on the current situation before he suggested such things. 

Rayan’s parents moved away. She took a half step closer to Rayan’s Godfather. Rayan’s Godfather took a half step closer to her.

For the first time in months, they were pressed against each other. 

Her chest felt hollow. Icy. It burned to inhale. It took too much effort to exhale. She lifted the baby so that he was perfectly between them. A brown hand fixed the baby’s dress. Fingertips grazed fingertips. She could taste iron pooling just behind her teeth, and then she smiled. 

Her first tear fell when the camera shuttered for the last time. The people were emotional, too. They spoke to the baby in whispers. The Godfather left her side to go gawk at his Godson. 

It was only her in the center of that stage. She was alone. There was no one in her corner anymore. 

She had no husband. No new baby to baptize. No boyfriend to envision her future with. 

She felt as if she was going to drown. She sucked in a burning breath. 

She tasted the iron.

#jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x oc #jude bellingham x you #x black fem reader #x black reader #trent alexander arnold x black reader #trent alexander arnold #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine

[laneywrld]

alienated | Lewis Hamilton

one shot

word count: 8.6k

warnings: angst

you've been on that spaceship all alone.

You and Lewis had been separated for three months, which, if you think about is very long when you compare it to the amount of time you spent apart when you were together. 

For four years, you and Lewis were inseparable, never spending more than a week apart. But that was then, and this is now, with three months of separation stretching out before you. 

The two of you separated for one straightforward reason: You were the only person present in the relationship. Between his silence and your overthinking, it became a mess in the end. 

Leaving Lewis was a heart-wrenching decision. The man you once believed would be your future husband, the man you were once engaged to, was now a distant memory.

As you reflect on the past, you realize how much you had been neglected. This realization strengthens your resolve and affirms your decision to leave, reminding you of your worth.

You weren’t sure if Lewis loved you. He didn't communicate with you, show you any affection, or pay you any attention. He didn't put time aside for you. It was hell being in a one-sided relationship.

It began to be exhausting putting in all the effort and trying to get him to see you because lately, you hadn't felt that. 

It was a painful realization. Lewis, the man you loved, was slowly but surely draining you. His presence no longer brought you joy or adoration; it made you miserable. You felt like a ghost, unseen and unappreciated. 

But even then, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He'd had a hard season, was constantly stressed, and life wasn't going as planned. So, one more try: you would halt your efforts for one week while he was away in Miami. 

It was a test, really, to see if he was still putting in the effort, a plan meant to expose whether he even thought about you or remotely cared. If he could go a week without you in any form, he didn't deserve you or appreciate you. That would be obvious. Or he would notice, and he'd get his act together. But a part of you lacked faith in the latter option. In the end, his actions would give you an answer to the question you've had for a while.

Would you want to stay with someone like that? Someone who's okay without you or, worse, doesn’t even notice your change?

May fifth, the day of the race, would mark your fourth anniversary, and while he would be away, you were still curious to see what he had planned or if he remembered at all. 

Lewis left on Wednesday. It wasn't like your old send-offs. There were no passionate moments in bed, him leaving you something to remember him by or even your classic bye-bye brunches. He rolled his bags from your shared home while you were still deep in your slumber.

You awoke to an empty, cold house. 

You spent that day alone, with Roscoe, of course. Spending the next two days cuddled up to your fur baby and taking him on exciting new adventures. You nearly slipped up and sent Lewis many pictures and videos of you and Roscoe plenty of times, only to remember your end goal and lock your phone with a sigh. 

When Friday came around, and Lewis still hadn't so much as sent you a single text, you had an inkling of what you'd have to do come Sunday.

It was almost as if Roscoe could sense your turmoil; in return, he was extra clingy. He followed you everywhere, lying at your feet on the couch, snuggled into your side in bed, and even sitting patiently at your feet as you sat on the toilet. You could only sigh as you revel in the time you had with him. He was your good boy, your first child. The thought of missing him was nearly enough for you to call off your intentions, but then your therapist's words rang through your mind like a harsh reminder.

"Sometimes, you have to sacrifice your relationship with another for the sake of one; I know it might be hard to think about losing your friends and your little guy if you do find it's time to leave him, but in the end, your job is to save yourself. Never feel guilty for thinking of yourself for once. You'll always love them, yeah? He'll remember how much you loved him, and you'll miss him; he'll miss you. But how long can you survive in that relationship?"

You remember spending that entire session crying over how much you'd miss Roscoe as you contemplated the cons of leaving your relationship. 

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

On Saturday, you stayed awake even when your eyes begged you to close them. You kept your phone tucked beside you, and your eyes dropped as the clock hit twelve.

Every year before that, Lewis celebrated your love immediately. For three hours, you waited for something as simple as a text or a post—something to acknowledge you. After a while, your exhaustion won, and you succumbed to your tiredness. 

You tried not to get your hopes up when you awoke in the morning, your anniversary day. You felt like an idiot as you turned over your phone, and there was nothing from Lewis. Your expectations were still very much high, which is why you scrambled from the bed and rushed to the front door. Your intent to see if there were any florals delivered to your doorstep proved pointless as you swung open the door, and the only delivery had been your Amazon package.

With a disappointing sigh, you snatched it from the porch and called for Roscoe. You slipped on your Birkenstocks, leading him outside to relieve himself. You sat on the patio, bonnet on and nightgown pooling around you as you watched Roscoe run around in the yard. 

It was becoming real then. 

You stayed outside for an hour, playing around with Roscoe, chasing him, him chasing you, and even tossing his ball until you decided it was time to take action.

You hauled Roscoe into the home, giving him fresh water and food as you connected to the speaker and blasted your music.

Your impending decision wasn't so much impending anymore. You knew what you needed to do; sooner was better than later.

It was one in the afternoon, and if he hadn't shown any signs of acknowledgment at that time, you knew it wouldn't come. 

A small portion of you wanted to cry, burst into tears, and scream because of how hurt you were. But the dominant part of you was just angry. Lewis would learn his lesson; he'd miss you, and you'd make sure he felt it. 

You wanted him to miss you like you missed him. He'd find himself craving your random calls and appreciating your silly texts. He'd crave your warm embrace again, and he'd want to die without your unique smile and your loving eyes.

He'd want everything he had taken for granted because that is precisely what he had done. He made you feel alone, even when he was there. You were the shadow lurking in your home — the distant body in your shared bed.

You deserved someone who always told you he loved you, always hugged you, and never left without a kiss. You deserve a man who talks to you about everything, who cares about how your day went and how you feel. You shouldn't give everything and get nothing; you don't deserve that.

You've been nothing but superb to him. You always showed up for him when it mattered, embraced him when he was down or even when he was happy, cooked meals for him when he was home and made every dinner special for him. You asked him about his day every day, and you listened.

Lewis couldn't say the same, and he wouldn't be able to. And that was the straw on the camel's back. You refused to give that level of love to a man who wouldn't reciprocate it. You didn't care how much you loved him; that was a level of disrespect and negligence you weren't willing to tolerate. 

You weren't raised to accept the bare minimum, which was precisely what he gave you.

That was your moment of realization as you packed your bags. Lewis was due back Tuesday night, so you had the remainder of Sunday and Monday to gather your belongings and make your furtive exit. 

Lewis made P7; you knew this because as you separated your belongings from his, you had the race streaming on the TV mounted in your room. 

On Twitter, you saw him later that night out partying, and that only angered you for approximately ten minutes before you were only feeling disappointed in the man. You'd never been good at the art of detachment until then.

Suddenly, you weren't angry or furious with Lewis anymore; you felt content with your decision as you zipped up your last suitcase and taped up the last of your boxes.

As night fell and night arrived, you lay in your shared bed for the last time, Roscoe's head on your tummy as he snored. Your hand caressed his head in gentle rubs, and you sigh. 

When the clock hits twelve and your anniversary officially passes, you feel like an idiot for even having faith in the man.

First thing in the morning, the driveway was filled with moving trucks and workers. You sat patiently on the couch as you waited for Anthony to arrive. When the sun begins to set, and the loading is done, you see headlights beam through the windows. 

The door opens and closes softly, and there they stand, Anthony and Nicholas with glum faces. 

"Are you sure, love?" Anthony whispers as he approaches you. He looks so distressed that you can only nod back at him. He sits beside you, taking one of your hands in his. 

"As long as you are sure." And you break down into a fit of tears as Lewis' father comforts you, even as you leave his son. Nicholas takes the spot beside you, his hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you.

"You gave him time and chances," Anthony hums, his free hand rubbing circles on your back. "I love my son, and I love you just as much; we will always love you."

Nicholas hums in agreement. "Still going to be our family."

You know you must leave before you allow your love for his family to deter you. So you take one last shaky breath, standing to your feet, where Roscoe waits patiently. You squat down, tears falling from your eyes and soaking into his fur. 

"I love you, buddy. So much, you're my good boy." You whisper, kissing his head over and over.

You stand again, looking at Anthony and Nicholas one last time and pulling them into separate hugs. "Thank you." You whisper out and pass the keys over and instructions on properly caring for Roscoe, even if they will only have him for less than a day.

"I'll be waiting to talk to you again," Anthony announces, and you nod. 

"Don't tell him?" you request. I've left him a letter upstairs; I'd like him to find out on my terms.

They nod, and you trek through the house and out of the front doors to what used to be the home you planned on spending the rest of your life in.

As you close the door, you hear Roscoe's incessant whines and scratches against it, and you sob all over again as you continue your journey to your car. 

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

You weren't selfish for choosing yourself, especially over a person whose life you're choosing to walk out of because you didn't feel as if you belonged in it anymore. You didn't belong in that house anymore, in that relationship. You didn't belong with Lewis. It was a harsh and painful reality. But change is unbearable, and from change comes growth. And that growth can also be painful. But nothing would ever compare to the pain of staying stuck somewhere you don't belong. Nothing would ever hurt you more than loving a man more than he loved you.

You always preached about "when you know, you know." You've always felt it, that gut feeling that it was time for something new. You were great at knowing when to move on and let go and acknowledging when those shifts needed to be addressed. You loved to say out with the old and in with the new. The point is that you never struggled with trusting the process of life until life told you that you weren't meant for Lewis. 

This was the first time that you doubted the imminent change. This change meant that you were fleeing from your love. As you backed out of the driveway, your vision blurred by burning tears; you could only cry as you mourned the love you once had. But this was all for a greater purpose, the purpose of you finding joy in life again because you sure have felt drained of it.

-

Tuesday came and went, and as night fell, Lewis pulled into the driveway. Given the closed four-car garage, he did not find it suspicious that your car was missing. He grunted as he pulled his suitcase from the trunk and eased up the steps and into his foyer.

He isn't immediately greeted by Roscoe or your arms wrapping around him, and he squints when he sees how dark and cold it is inside the home.

That put him on edge.

You always liked a warm glow emitting through the home, so a dim lamp was always on to illuminate the open floor plan. At night, you liked the home to be slightly warm, like a spring breeze, yet there was an icy chill running through it.

He calls out your name as he settles his bags by the door. He even calls Roscoe, and when he hears nothing, he sets a fast pace up the stairs.

"Babe!"

No response.

When Lewis reaches the second level, he immediately heads to your guys' room. When he hits the light switch, he suddenly becomes aware of how cold and barren the room looks and feels. 

You're not snuggled into the middle of the bed like he usually finds you; his pillow isn't locked in your arms and held to your chest. You're not there.

Your small trinkets are no longer scattered around the room, and he rushes to the closet; none of your belongings are there. Lewis feels his heart rate accelerate as fear creeps into his body.

He turns to face the bed again, and when he sees your nightstand, he rushes over; your ring sits in the same velvet box he proposed to you with, and a piece of paper is lying underneath it. He snatches them both up, his mind reeling, and suddenly, he feels like he could throw up.

I've made a decision that was hard for me in the beginning and became clearer as the days went on. I've gotten comfortable with the bare minimum. It's been my normal for a while. I'm choosing to evolve, grow, and learn to accept what I deserve. It'd be more challenging for me to stay with you than it would be for me to leave you. I've realized that. I couldn't handle it anymore. It was the same routine; you never noticed me or acknowledged me. I've tried to address this issue, and it's done nothing; you've done nothing but give me baseless promises. I can no longer stick around for a relationship where I've been the only one present. No matter how much I love you. And I really did love you, with everything in me. I should’ve never allowed myself to get comfortable with how you neglected and fell out of love with me. I've chosen you repeatedly, but this time, I must choose me; I have to, Lewis. Happy anniversary. 

Your dad has Roscoe.

Lewis squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his chest with a firm grip. His body quivers as he slumps onto the ground, his back against the bed frame. Lewis wasn't new to panic attacks, especially with all of the stress he took on from his job. But this was his first time having to suffer through one without you.

The world seemed to close in on Lewis, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest as his heart raced uncontrollably. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the invisible hands that seemed to be squeezing the air from his lungs.

His vision blurred, the edges of his sight becoming hazy and indistinct as panic tightened its grip. Thoughts raced through his mind like a whirlwind, a cacophony of fears and anxieties swirling around him, threatening to engulf him in their dark embrace.

Desperately, he tried to ground himself, to find some semblance of stability amidst the chaos. He focused on his breath, trying to slow the frantic rhythm of his heart. But each attempt felt like grasping at smoke, his efforts slipping through his fingers like sand.

His body trembled with the intensity of his panic, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin as waves of nausea washed over him. It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape, a relentless onslaught of terror that threatened to consume him whole.

And yet, somewhere deep within him, a flicker of resilience remained. Despite the overwhelming darkness that threatened to engulf him, he clung to the hope that this too shall pass, that he would emerge from the storm-battered but unbowed. But this hope came to him as visions of you.

In the midst of the chaos swirling around him, Lewis found himself grasping desperately for something, anything, to anchor him to reality. And amidst the turmoil, your memories came flooding back like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warmth of those memories. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind, a melody that calmed the frantic rhythm of his heart. He remembered the way your smile could light up even the darkest of days, the way your touch could banish the shadows of doubt and fear.

With each breath, he summoned forth another memory, another moment shared between you two. The way you would lose yourselves in the conversation for hours on end, the way you would always know just what to say to ease his troubled mind.

It was as if you were there with him, a comforting presence in the midst of the storm. And with each memory, each recollection of your time together, the panic began to recede, like a tide slowly ebbing away from the shore.

In those moments, surrounded by the echoes of your love, Lewis found the strength to carry on and learn to breathe again. Though you were no longer by his side, your memory was a lifeline, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love endures. And with that realization, he took a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting ever so slightly from his shoulders as he found solace in the embrace of their shared past.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the tide began to recede. His breaths grew steadier, the racing of his heart gradually slowing to a more manageable pace. The world around him began to regain its focus, the blurred edges sharpening into clarity once more.

As Lewis rereads your letter, a torrent of emotions overwhelms him, but solace is elusive. Instead, a heavyweight settles in his chest, burdened with the weight of misery and guilt.

Your words, filled with love and longing, only serve to magnify his pain. With each sentence, the guilt gnaws at him, a relentless voice whispering accusations in his ear. He replays the moments leading up to your departure, dissecting his actions and words, searching for where he went wrong.

The memories of your time together, once a source of comfort, now feel like daggers piercing his heart. Each moment of happiness is tainted by the knowledge of your absence, a constant reminder of his failure to hold onto what he cherished most.

As tears blur his vision, Lewis finds himself consumed by remorse. He wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script, and undo the mistakes that led to this moment. But the past is immutable, and he is left to grapple with the consequences of his actions.

In the depths of his misery, Lewis feels utterly alone, adrift in a sea of regret and self-recrimination. He longs for a reprieve from the agony that threatens to consume him, but it remains elusive, just out of reach.

And yet, amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope remains. Deep down, Lewis knows that redemption is possible and that forgiveness can be found even in the darkest of times. But for now, he must navigate the storm of his emotions, clinging to the hope that one day, he will find peace once more. That you loved him enough to give him one more chance.

-

In the quiet moments of the day, when the hustle and bustle of life subsides, you find yourself grappling with a sense of emptiness that lingers despite your efforts to embrace change. Three months have passed since you made the difficult decision to leave Lewis behind, and while you've tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, a part of you still aches for what was lost.

Life has moved on, as it always does, and you've thrown yourself into new experiences and opportunities, hoping to fill the void left by Lewis' absence. But no matter how hard you try, there's a lingering sense of incompleteness that tugs at your heartstrings, a yearning for the familiarity and comfort of what once was.

In the midst of laughter and celebration, there are moments when you find yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering back to the memories you shared with Lewis. The sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace – they haunt you like ghosts, reminders of a love that once burned bright but has since faded into the recesses of memory.

You've tried to convince yourself that you've moved on, that you're better off without him, but deep down, you know the truth. Life may be different now, but it's not necessarily better. There's a void within you that no amount of change or distraction can fill, a longing for something – or someone – that you can't quite shake.

And so, as you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you're left to confront the uncomfortable truth that sometimes, embracing change isn't enough to heal the wounds of the past. Despite your best efforts to move forward, a part of you will always be tethered to the love you left behind.

In the wake of leaving Lewis and embarking on a new chapter of life, there's a profound sense of loss that lingers within you. While you navigate the complexities of change and try to come to terms with the absence of Lewis, there's another absence that weighs heavily on your heart – the absence of your beloved canine companion, Roscoe.

Roscoe was more than just a pet; he was a faithful friend, a source of unconditional love and companionship through the highs and lows of life. His wagging behind and eager eyes greeted you each day, offering comfort and solace in moments of joy and sorrow alike.

In the quiet moments when the world slows down, and the noise fades away, you find yourself missing Roscoe more than ever. The memory of his warm presence, the feel of his fur beneath your fingertips, it all comes flooding back with a bittersweet intensity that catches you off guard.

You long to hear the sound of his paws padding across the floor, to feel the weight of his body nestled against yours as you curl up on the couch together. The emptiness left by his absence is palpable, a silent reminder of the void that he once filled in your life.

And yet, despite the pain of separation, there's a deep sense of gratitude for the time you shared with Roscoe. The memories you created together are a testament to the bond you shared, a bond that transcends time and distance.

As you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you find yourself missing your tiny makeshift family, his family included. 

Losing Lewis also meant losing the connection you had with his family, a connection that had become a source of warmth and acceptance in your life, especially given the complexities of your own family dynamics.

Growing up, your relationship with your family had always been strained, marked by misunderstandings and distance. But with Lewis' family, you found a sense of belonging that had eluded you for so long. Their laughter filled the air with joy, a stark contrast to the somber silence that often hung over your own family gatherings.

They embraced you as one of their own, welcoming you into their home and their hearts. Losing them in the separation felt like losing a piece of yourself, a painful reminder of the fragility of the connections we forge in life.

In the quiet moments when the ache of separation threatened to overwhelm you, you found yourself yearning for the familiar comforts of their presence. Their voices, their hugs – they were precious memories that you held onto tightly, like fragile treasures in the depths of your soul.

As you navigated the aftermath of the separation, you couldn't help but mourn the loss of not only Lewis but also his family. Their absence left a void in your heart, a sense of loss that weighed heavily on your spirit.

Leaving Lewis meant that you lost everything. 

As you reflect on your decision to leave Lewis, the memories of his distance weigh heavily on your heart. It felt like you were carrying the weight of the relationship alone, like a lone traveler traversing a vast expanse of loneliness.

The moments of connection that once filled your days together had become increasingly rare, replaced by silence and a growing sense of isolation. It seemed as though you were the only one putting in the effort to keep the relationship alive while Lewis drifted further and further away, lost in his own thoughts and concerns.

You longed for the closeness and intimacy that had once defined your relationship, but it felt like an impossible dream, a mirage shimmering on the horizon, always just out of reach. No matter how hard you tried to bridge the gap between you, it seemed to widen with each passing day until it felt like you were living in two separate worlds.

In the end, you made the difficult decision to walk away, not because you stopped loving Lewis but because you couldn't bear the loneliness of being the only one fighting for the relationship. It was a choice born out of self-preservation, a refusal to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for the sake of a love that had long since grown cold.

And now, as you navigate the aftermath of the separation, you can't help but wonder if things could have been different if there was anything you could have done to save what was lost. But deep down, you know that sometimes, letting go is the only way to find the happiness and fulfillment you deserve. So you go about your day, cozied up on the couch in your cozy apartment, still missing Lewis but very much understanding of your decision.

-

As Lewis sits alone in his room, his phone is clutched tightly in his hand, and he can't shake the feeling of desperation that washes over him. He's tried everything – calling, texting, even reaching out through social media – but all his attempts to contact you have been met with silence.

Each unanswered call and unanswered message feels like a dagger to his heart, a painful reminder of your absence and the uncertainty that now looms over his life. He wonders what he could have done differently to prevent this rift from forming between you.

His mind races with questions, each one more torturous than the last. Was there someone else, or was it simply a case of drifting apart, with two souls heading in different directions? He refused to believe that because he loved you more than life, he still does. 

The lack of closure gnaws at him, a relentless ache that refuses to be quelled. He longs to hear your voice, to see your face, to have just a moment of connection with you again. But no matter how hard he tries, you remain elusive, like a ghost slipping through his fingers.

In the depths of his despair, Lewis clings to the hope that someday, somehow, he'll find a way to reach you, to break through the walls that separate you and bridge the chasm that now divides your lives. 

-

As you step out for your first date since leaving Lewis, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles within you. It feels like a tentative step forward, a chance to explore new possibilities and rediscover a sense of joy and companionship. Chris seemed nice, and he was attentive to you, something you hadn’t felt in a while.

But as you arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere suddenly shifts, a sense of unease settling over you like a heavy cloak. The flash of cameras blinds you momentarily as paparazzi swarm around, their lenses trained on you like predators stalking their prey.

Caught off guard, you freeze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. How did they find you? And more importantly, how will Lewis react when he sees the headlines splashed across the tabloids?

The date itself fades into the background as you're engulfed by a whirlwind of anxiety and fear. Thoughts race through your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Will Lewis think you've moved on too quickly? Will he feel betrayed by your decision to start dating again?

As the paparazzi continue to snap away, you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if your every move is being scrutinized and judged by the world at large. It's a stark reminder of the price of fame, the invasive nature of public scrutiny that leaves you feeling like a prisoner in your own life.

But still, your biggest concern was how Lewis would handle it.

-

He wasn't okay.

As Lewis catches wind of your date through the relentless paparazzi coverage, a storm of emotions rages within him. Jealousy, misery, and anger collide in a tumultuous whirlwind, threatening to engulf him in their tempestuous embrace.

The thought of you with another man fills him with a sense of unbearable longing and regret. He's missed you, more than he ever thought possible, and the idea of you moving on without him cuts him to the core. How could you be okay living without him, when every moment without you feels like a lifetime of emptiness?

In his mind, he replays the memories of your time together, each one a painful reminder of what he's lost. He wonders if he could have done things differently or if he could have been the partner you needed him to be. But now, it feels like too little, too late, as he watches helplessly from the sidelines as you move on with your life.

The bitterness of jealousy twists in his gut, fueling his anger and resentment. He wants to lash out, scream, and shout and make you understand the depth of his pain. But beneath the anger lies a deeper sadness, a profound sense of loss that threatens to consume him whole.

As Lewis grapples with his conflicting emotions, he's left to confront the harsh reality of your absence and the painful realization that he may have lost you forever. But he refuses to give up on you.

As Lewis observes the subtle ways you've been avoiding him, a mix of frustration and longing wells up within him. It's become increasingly clear that you're actively steering clear of any situation where you might cross paths, and while part of him understands, another part can't help but feel hurt by your apparent avoidance.

He's noticed your absence at mutual friend gatherings, the empty space where you used to stand, and it feels like a painful reminder of the void left by your departure. Each missed opportunity to reconnect only serves to deepen his sense of loss, leaving him to wonder if you'll ever be willing to face him again.

But amidst the disappointment, there's a glimmer of hope – your unwavering commitment to attending his brother's birthday celebration. It's a small gesture, but one that speaks volumes to Lewis. Despite the distance between you, despite the pain of separation, you're still willing to show up for his family, to be there for them in their moments of celebration.

In that realization, Lewis finds a sense of solace, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for reconciliation. He knows that healing takes time and that wounds need time to mend, but seeing you make an effort to be there for his family gives him hope that maybe, someday, you'll find a way to bridge the gap between you and find your way back to each other.

"She's going to be here?"

Nicholas nods cautiously, "Yeah, but Lewis, you have to let her be, okay?"

"What are you talking about? She's my fiance?"

"But she's not." Nicholas interrupts.

"And she hasn't been for half a year."

The words dawn on Lewis, and they make his heartache in a festering way, yet he can't help but feel comfort in knowing that for the first time, he'd be able to see you again, face to face. 

As you step into Nicholas' birthday party, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a tangible manifestation of the nervousness that courses through your veins. You know Lewis will be there, and the thought of facing him again fills you with a sense of apprehension and uncertainty.

Your heart races as you scan the crowded room, searching for any sign of him. Each familiar face you encounter sends a jolt of anxiety coursing through you, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the way you've been avoiding him.

Determined to keep your distance, you slip through the crowd like a ghost, carefully avoiding any areas where you suspect Lewis might be lurking. You plaster on a smile and engage in polite conversation with the other partygoers, but your mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of the man you're desperately trying to avoid.

As the night wears on, the tension in the air becomes palpable, a silent undercurrent that threatens to pull you under. You steal furtive glances around the room, half-hoping to catch sight of Lewis and half-dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits.

But as the hours pass and the party begins to wind down, you realize with a sense of relief that you've managed to make it through most of the evening without crossing paths with him. 

The knot in your stomach loosens ever so slightly, and you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

That is, until you see him.

As Lewis scans the room, his gaze inevitably falls upon you, blending seamlessly into the crowd. There's a longing in his eyes as he watches you from afar, a silent ache that tugs at his heartstrings with each passing moment.

He can't help but notice the way you move with a grace that belies the nervousness he knows must be churning within you. Despite your attempts to blend in, there's an undeniable magnetism about you that draws his gaze like a moth to a flame.

Memories of your time together flood his mind, a montage of moments both joyous and bittersweet. He recalls the way your laughter filled the room, the warmth of your smile, and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you were up to no good.

But beneath the surface, there's a sense of sadness, a yearning for the connection that once bound them together. He longs to reach out to you, to bridge the gap that now separates you, but he knows that now is not the time nor the place.

With a heavy heart, Lewis watches from a distance, his eyes lingering on you like a silent prayer. He knows that healing takes time, that wounds need time to mend, but deep down, he can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for reconciliation, an opportunity to find your way back to each other once more.

As your eyes lock with Lewis's across the pulsating dance floor, a surge of panic propels you into action. Without a second thought, you pivot on your heel and dart through the crowd, your heart hammering in your chest like a wild drumbeat.

Every fiber of your being screams for escape as you push your way toward the exit, the urgency of your flight drowning out the thumping bass of the music. But even amidst the chaos, you can feel Lewis's gaze burning into your back, his presence a heavy weight that follows you like a shadow.

With each step, your pace quickens, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you try to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the man you once loved. But no matter how fast you run, you can't outrun the memories that haunt you or the longing that lingers in your heart.

And then, just as you reach the sanctuary of the exit, you feel a hand grasp your arm, pulling you to a sudden stop. You turn to face Lewis, his eyes searching yours with a desperate intensity that leaves you reeling.

In that moment, you're paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the desire to confront the emotions that swirl between you. But before you can make a decision, Lewis's voice breaks through the chaos, a whisper of longing that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a sense of inevitability, you realize that there's no escaping the truth – no matter how hard you try to run, the bond between you and Lewis refuses to be broken. And as he reaches out to you, his desperation palpable, you know that you can't ignore the pull of fate any longer.

"Baby, please, let me talk to you."

As you finally turn to face Lewis, the sight of him stops you dead in your tracks. His eyes, usually so full of life and vitality, now seem dulled with a sorrow that cuts you to the core. They glisten with unshed tears, twinkling in the dim light of the club, and his fluttery eyelashes betray the vulnerability that lies beneath his stoic exterior.

At that moment, he looks like a kicked puppy, abandoned and alone, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the pain you've caused him. His expression is a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness, and it tugs at your heartstrings with a force you can't ignore.

Despite your best efforts to steel yourself against his gaze, you find yourself crumbling under the weight of his sorrow. The walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble, and all you can see is the hurt reflected in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out to him, your fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek. In that moment, you realize that you can't bear to see him hurting like this, that despite the pain of the past, your love for him still lingers like a ghost, refusing to be silenced.

You turn, allowing his grip on your arm to remain as you continue out the door. You are in a dark alley, he's still looking at you with that same miserable pout lodged onto his face.

"You left me," He whispers.

As Lewis's voice trembles with emotion, his words pierce through the barrier you've erected around your heart. The sincerity in his apology is palpable, each syllable weighted with the regret of past mistakes. You can't help but feel a tug at your own heartstrings, a flicker of empathy for the pain he's endured.

"And I don't blame you, I was shit to you. I've been struggling more than I care to admit," Lewis confesses, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. 

"The season has been relentless, and the constant setbacks with my car... it's been a mental battle I haven't been winning."

He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his anguish. "I know I haven't been myself lately, and I've taken that out on you. I'm sorry, truly. I never meant to hurt you, but I let my frustrations get the best of me."

There's a vulnerability in his voice as he lays bare his struggles, a raw honesty that cuts through the silence between you. "I see now how my actions have affected you, and it breaks my heart. You didn't deserve to bear the brunt of my pain, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me."

His gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I'm trying to work through this, to find my way back to myself so that I can be better for you. I want to be better for you." 

His admission hits you like a wave, washing away the bitterness and resentment that had taken root within you. It's as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, the burden of hurt and anger finally dissipating in the face of his vulnerability.

With a heavy sigh, you meet his gaze, seeing the turmoil reflected in his eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the pain of the past, the love you once shared still lingers between you, a flicker of hope in the darkness of your regrets.

And as Lewis continues to pour out his heart, expressing his remorse for the loneliness you felt in the relationship, you find yourself nodding in understanding. You know all too well the toll that suffering in silence can take, and you can't fault him for wanting to shield you from his own pain.

In the quiet of the moment, you find solace in the shared acknowledgment of your struggles, a silent understanding that binds you together even as you stand on opposite sides of the divide. And as you reach out to him, offering a tentative embrace, he physically brightens as if you have taken the sun and held it right above him.

"I need you to know," Lewis begins, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability, "how miserable I've been without you. Your absence... it's been like a gaping hole in my chest, a constant reminder of what I've lost."

His words tremble with the weight of his emotions as he continues, "I've missed you more than I ever thought possible. Every moment without you felt like an eternity, and the emptiness of your absence was impossible to ignore."

"I know I've made mistakes, pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer," he admits, his voice thick with regret. "But please understand, it was never because I stopped loving you. If anything, it was because I loved you too much and didn't know how to cope with the pain of making you feel as miserable as I was, but in the end, that is exactly what I ended up doing."

Lewis's gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me, how lost I am without you by my side."

As Lewis pours his heart out, his words piercing through the walls you've built around your own heart, you feel a lump form in your throat. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek as you struggle to contain the flood of emotions welling up inside you.

His vulnerability is a mirror to your own, and in that moment, you realize just how much you've missed him, how much you've longed to hear those words spoken from his lips. With a trembling breath, you close the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean in to kiss him.

The touch of his lips against yours is like coming home, a familiar warmth that envelops you in a cocoon of love and longing. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away – the pain of the past, the uncertainty of the future – leaving only the two of you reunited at last in a tender embrace.

As you melt into each other, the weight of the world falls away, replaced by the sweet promise of a new beginning. And as you pull back, breathless and teary-eyed, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

"Lewis," you begin, your voice soft but firm, "I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise that you'll open up to me next time, that you won't keep your struggles bottled up inside."

Tears still glisten in your eyes as you speak, but there's a determination in your voice that wasn't there before. 

"That's how it works in relationships, you know? We're supposed to be there for each other through the good times and the bad. And I want to be there for you, always."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, offering a reassuring squeeze. 

"I love you, Lewis, and I care about how you feel. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to internalize your emotions like you have to suffer alone. I want to walk through them with you, hand in hand."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue, "If we're going to make this work if we're going to have a future together, that has to change. We have to be able to lean on each other, share our burdens, and lighten each other's load. Can you promise me that, Lewis? Can you promise to let me in?"

"I promise I'll try," Lewis responds, his voice tinged with sincerity and determination. "I know I haven't been the best at opening up, at letting you in, but I want to change that. I want to be more vulnerable with you, to share my struggles and my fears."

He reaches out, gently wiping away the tears that still linger on your cheeks. 

"I love you more than anything, and I don't want to lose you again. If that means being more open and honest about how I'm feeling, then I'll do whatever it takes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he continues, "You've always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. And I want to be there for you, too, to be the partner you deserve."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "Together, we can get through anything. I believe that with all my heart."

As Lewis holds your hand, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns over your skin, he can't help but notice the absence of the familiar weight of your ring. His heart clenches painfully in his chest at the realization, a sharp pang of regret shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't help but notice... your finger, it's bare." The words catch in his throat, choked with the weight of his own guilt and remorse.

His grip tightens ever so slightly as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away. "It pains me to see you without it," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I'm the reason you took it off, and I hate myself for it."

Tears gather in his eyes as he meets your gaze, his own filled with a mix of sorrow and longing. "I miss the way it sparkled on your finger, a constant reminder of the love we shared. I miss us, and I'm so sorry for everything."

With a gentle squeeze of Lewis's hand, you offer him a reassuring smile, your eyes soft with affection. "I missed you too, Lewis," you admit, your voice tinged with sincerity. "And I still love you, all the same."

You can feel the tension in his grip ease slightly at your words, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "As for the ring," you continue, a playful twinkle dancing in your gaze, "I suppose you'll have to put it back on my finger when we get home, won't you? Can't have everyone thinking I'm single, now can we?"

The corners of Lewis's lips quirk up into a hesitant smile at your jest, the heaviness in his heart beginning to lift. "I'd like that," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'd like that very much." And in that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

Lewis's eyes widen in disbelief as your words sink in, a glimmer of hope flickering to life in their depths. "You'll come home?" he repeats, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

A rush of emotions floods through him – relief, gratitude, and a profound sense of joy that threatens to overwhelm him. 

A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features with an infectious warmth. "Roscoe will be so thrilled to have you back, and so will I," he adds, his voice filled with genuine happiness. "I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong. Losing you has been hard on all of us," Lewis confesses, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But seeing how miserable Roscoe has been without you at home... it breaks my heart."

He pauses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he struggles to find the right words to express the depth of his concern. "He's been moping around, refusing to eat, just waiting by the door for you to come back. It's like he knows you're not coming back, and it's killing me to see him like this."

You can hear the pain in his voice, the weight of his worry pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I know he's just a dog, but he's family to us," he continues, his voice cracking with emotion. "And I hate that he's suffering because of me, because of my mistakes. I'm happy that you're coming back."

"I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong."

With a sense of renewed hope and determination, Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish into thin air. In that moment, surrounded by his love and warmth, you know that coming home was the right choice and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

As Lewis's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, a sense of clarity washes over you like a cleansing wave. In his embrace, surrounded by his love and warmth, you realize that the change you needed wasn't leaving him but instead learning to communicate with him all over again.

The weight of your decision to leave lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of lightness and freedom. You see now that leaving him only made you miserable, that true happiness lies in facing your challenges together, hand in hand.

With Lewis by your side, you feel stronger, more resilient, and ready to tackle whatever obstacles life throws your way. You understand that change isn't always easy, but it's necessary for growth and renewal.

In this moment, surrounded by his love and support, you know that change is indeed good and that together, you can navigate the twists and turns of life's journey with grace and resilience. And as you bask in the warmth of his embrace, you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to start anew, to rebuild your relationship from the ground up, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

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