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#the only time i ever say anything is if i know for sure i can do a better job
luveline · 1 day
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how’re eddie and roan doing??🫶🏻
(step)mom!reader, 2k
Sometimes you know you’re not good enough for Eddie and his daughter.
It’s a pinprick pain in the same place. The tiniest fear turned to heat.
“I’m gonna get you!” he warns.
“No, you’re not!” Roan stands at the other side of the room. With the door at her father’s back, she has no proof to substantiate her claim, but she makes it anyway. “You’re slow!”
You sit on the end of the bed with one leg hanging off, a socked foot brushing the carpet. Your legs are aching and the bottom of your spine feels bruised, so you aren’t joining in tonight. You watch them glare and giggle at one another.
Your head hurts between your eyes.
Eddie makes a ‘scary’ face and runs across the room to grab her. She squeals in terrified delight and races for the bed, climbing up behind you and over it, swapping places with him easily, or so she thinks. She’s slower than he is, and can’t escape his grabbing hands as he leaps for her on your bed, flattening your stepdaughter into a pancake.
“No, no,” she laughs beneath him.
Eddie braces his arms either side of her. “I told you’d I’d get you,” he says in a menacing voice, like a character from a movie, he can do a hundred different impressions. “You’ve stolen your last Twinkie, child. Be prepared for retribution.”
“I hate retribution!” she shouts.
Eddie laughs like a kid. “You’ll have to learn to love it.”
He grabs the end of her shirt, tugs it up, and drops his face into her stomach to grow the world's most aggressive raspberry. Roan screams the house down, laughing and shrieking as the vibrations tickle her skin. Eddie takes another big breath, lets it out against her bellybutton, even as Roan’s knees come up and jab him in the arm. “Dad, oh my gosh, stop!”
He stops. “You surrender?”
“No.” A third huge raspberry gets pressed into her tummy.
“Give up,” he sing-songs, “you know you can’t defeat me, little Munson.”
“Y/N, please help me,” Roan says, half crawling under Eddie’s weight to grab your arm. “Please save me.”
Your smile is two shades off, but she doesn’t notice, and you wouldn’t want her to. “I can’t, princess, only a knight can save you now.”
Eddie blows a raspberry on her tummy, then her neck. She hates that even more than the tummy ones and flings herself out of his arms with breathless laughter, the urgency of knowing you’re going to be killed by such horrible, painful, excruciating affection. “You,” she says, taking deep breaths as she slinks down onto the floor, “are the worse dad. Ever.” She laughs like taffy. “I’m listening to my body and it says I need some soda.”
“You can have a capri sun,” Eddie says firmly.
She rushes away, runs down the stairs, and it’s all Eddie can do to constrain his usual warning, you can tell. “She’s gonna fall down them,” he says, batting the hair out of his eyes, “and then what will I do?”
You smile weakly. “I don’t know, teddy. Guess we’d have to roll her around in a wheelbarrow for a bit.”
He clambers onto his knees beside you. A spiral curl falls into his eyes. Everybody’s pretty when they smile but Eddie’s a heartbreak when he’s upset, when the corner of his mouth twitches wanting to pull down and his eyes lose their mirth. “Hey, what’s wrong?” With a little more pep, “Are you tired? Hungry?”
“Sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, so I won’t accept it.” His hand hesitates by your leg. “What’s not okay?”
You shake your head, not wanting to look at him anymore. He’s prettier than you are, with a better heart. He’s a great father and you’re a shitty mom. You have less practice than he has, sure, but you can’t do anything right for Roan lately, you mess up her lunch and forget to buy her yoghurts when you’re coming home even though Eddie called you twice to make sure you got them. He didn’t even get mad. If he asks you one more time what’s wrong, you’re gonna burst into tears.
He doesn’t ask.
Eddie wraps an arm heavily over the back of your shoulders and neck. The other vys for your hand in your lap, his knuckles brushing against your thigh. “You’re not feeling up to it, is that what it is? Maybe you’re tired,” he suggests, with all his usual tenderness. You’re struck with a memory of him when you’d first started dating, how awkward he could be and how he’d shoved it aside when you had one of your worst days at work. He’d surprised you outside, Roan waiting in his backseat, promising to take you home and make you a home cooked meal. You’d eaten it under his arm like this.
There were moments before you’d been his girlfriend where you worried he wasn’t gonna let you have him. That he wasn’t gonna want you, that you’d move on from each other and have to pretend it never happened. But he’s whispering in your ear, hand latched onto your arm and rubbing circles into the tired muscle there without thought. “You can tell me anything,” he’s saying, “you know you can, just tell me what’s bothering you, don’t like it when you’re quiet…”
“Just had a bad day,” you say, tight and squeezed, so clearly evident that you’re gonna cry.
“At work?”
“All day.”
“Why? What’s bad?” he asks.
Nothing, you think, nothing’s bad, nothing is different than usual, but you feel awful. Like your hearts trying to invert itself in your chest, an upset with notes of panic.
“You know what I think it is?” he asks when you don’t answer, his demeanour dipping further and further into tenderness. “I think you didn’t eat enough at dinner, and you didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now you could use a shower and a hug and maybe a little time to yourself. When was the last time you had an hour for you?”
Your eyes crinkle tightly, your mouth twists. You get that weird rush of tingles all over your face and the heat of collecting tears. “It’s not like that,” you insist. “I love you, I don’t want time away from you, I swear.”
“I don’t want time away from you.” He kisses your cheek, twice, a third time, each one with more pressure than the kiss before. “I just mean… I don’t know, baby, I just thought you might be dealing with a lot.”
The worst thing bursts out of you, because you need him to tell you it’s not true. “I’m such a bad mom.”
The crying is unfortunate and immediate, your shoulders seizing under his arm. Eddie could tell it was coming, you’re sure, he doesn’t baulk, he never does.
“You’re not a bad mom, you’re a great mom,” he says, followed by a great wave of shushing.
“I’m awful, I’m supposed to be so much better, I can’t even remember her snacks.”
“Snacks are a really huge part of being a mom,” he says, “but she doesn’t care. She forgave you the moment you said sorry. You think she cares about her yoghurts? That’s not why she sits there waiting everyday after school, is it?”
“You asked me to get them and I forgot.”
“Well, should we call the cops now or later?”
“Eddie.”
He ushers your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, but you haven’t done anything that would make you a bad mom.”
You’re not Roan’s natural mother, you didn’t carry her, and so you find yourself in a privileged position. She treats you as she would a mom, she calls you mommy every day. You’re still letting her down.
“I love you, and Ro, and I wouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t love her, but you know… you really– you give more effort than we ever asked you to. You’re amazing. I never could have imagined getting to be with someone I love, and who loves my girl like she’s their own.” His murmuring takes the wryness of someone who knows what they’re saying is immeasurably corny, and he doesn’t stop. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is, but I do.”
“She deserves more.”
“She deserves you. You love her.”
You scrub your face, hiding from him behind your fingers. He waits in the quiet, now rubbing your back in large passes of his hand.
“Is that the only thing that’s making you like this?”
“I just feel like… everything I do, I could do better. Everything. And lately I feel so ugly. I thought this stuff would go away,” you confess, letting your hands fall away.
“I don’t think worrying ever goes away. Everybody worries about something.”
He ushers you back, the arm that warmed your shoulders dropping, his hand reaching instead for your face. He thumbs at tearstains and your damp top lip. “Please don’t cry,” he says, “you’re not ugly, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You’re killer, you always have been, but it’s my fault you don’t know that. I don’t tell you enough.”
He must tell you everyday, some days he tells you ten times or more. Still, it’s nice to have him say it, to place the blame of your insecurities on him, to try and make it his problem and not yours. It’s extremely loving, if extremely untrue.
“Sorry, Eddie. I think you’re right. Think I need to sleep, and, I don’t know. Stop feeling sorry for myself.” You smile weakly.
“I don’t think that’s what it is. If you need me to tell you what I think about you to feel better, I’ll do it every hour of the day.” He beams at you. “I hate when you cry.”
You huff a laugh. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”
“No– No, I don’t mean it like that. Don’t make me an asshole. I’m happy to see you smile again.”
“You give a good pep talk.”
“Can I give you a kiss now, is that alright?”
“If you stop being so nice after.”
Eddie turns his face and kisses you soundly. His hand climbs to your neck, his index finger draws a short, light line up your throat as his lips move against yours, and curls into itself as he pulled away to stroke gently under your chin. Then he gives you a shove, forcing you to lay down.
“Cheer up, dummy. You’re a great mom and you’re gonna be the best wife. Chill out.”
You catch one of his mean hands to hold to your tummy.
He sits there with you for ages. Five minutes turns to ten, then ten to fifteen, nothing else said, but his hand unmoving where you’ve put it.
“Ro!” he calls eventually. “Where’d you go, bub? Are you okay?”
Her mouth is obviously full when she calls back, “I’m okay!”
“That rascal is eating my Twinkies,” he says.
“Go stop her,” you say, pinching his fingers between yours playfully, softly, one at a time.
“We’re having time to ourselves.”
“I don’t need time away from her.”
“I know. But you need time to lay down without somebody bugging you to play, or watch her do a handstand. She’ll come back as soon as she’s hid the evidence, anyways.” He rolls his eyes. “Like I won’t notice.”
You crawl towards him and curl around him, locking him in place. “Thank you for looking after me.”
“It’s literally my favourite thing to do.”
Your front to his back where he’s sitting, your face against the back of his hip, you kiss his t-shirt. He makes a soft sound, breathing out, his hands covering your arm where you’ve hooked him at the waist.
more eddie, roan and reader
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surielstea · 3 days
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Jealous Girl
Based on this request.
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Paring: Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: Reader gets jealous over a girl flirting with Azriel at the pleasure hall.
Warnings: fluff, slight insecurities, one use of ‘y/n’
2.8k words
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I was plotting murder. I didn't even know the girl's name, but I knew she was touching Azriel's arm, giggling at every word he said, and gods— the way she looked up at him with those overfamiliar blue eyes like she didn't know what she was doing made me sick.
And he just let her.
I was enraged, beyond furious— I could barely get control of myself if it weren't for Cassian beside me, distracting me by talking my ear off.
Rita's was packed tonight, so when Azriel offered to go get me a drink I didn't deny it, he knew I wouldn't want to get into that mess of a crowd at the bar so he went by himself. Cassian and I stayed behind but that damned blonde couldn't keep her hands to herself and it was going to drive me mad.
"And they acted like I took down an entire city— it was one building!" Cassian groaned and I nodded along to whatever he was saying, my mind entirely too focused on the shadow singer located at the other side of the pleasure hall. "So I'm not allowed at the Summer Court anymore," Cassian sighed, scratching his jaw with a defeated expression and I dipped my head absentmindedly. "Are you alright? You haven't said anything since Az left," He prods my shoulder and I blink, my eyes refocusing on the large male in front of me instead of the one across the room.
"Uh, yeah just was thinking it'd be nice to visit Adriatta, I've never been," I shrug, my quick lie making him narrow his eyes on me.
"You sure?" He leans closer and I mirror it with a step back. My gaze flicks to Azriel for a fraction of a second before going right back to Cassian. He was still talking to that girl— or she was talking to him, he was just listening. "Oh, I see what this is about," Cassian smiles broadly, staring right at the duo I was trying so hard not to gain the attention of.
"Cass," I grumble, pulling him away from the two at the bar and facing the other side of the hall, backs turned toward the shadow singer.
"You're jealous," He croons and I avoid his gaze, knowing if I looked at him he'd be able to read me like an open book. So instead I looked down at my ankles where Azriel's shadows twined.
"I don't get jealous," I scoff, crossing my arms. He chuckles mischievously.
"Envious then?" He surmises and I playfully punch him in the shoulder before muttering, "There's nothing to be jealous over, Azriel can do whatever he wants."
"Even if he wants a particular blonde?"
"Well don't make it worse!" I whine and he only laughs at my reaction, making me groan in exasperation.
"He's made it clear enough that he doesn't want me," I murmur, shadows slipping up to my thighs and the Illyrian beside me bumps his shoulder with mine reassuringly.
"Az tells me the same shit about you," He claims and I look up at him with narrowed brows.
"Last time you intervened on me and Az's friendship, he and I didn't talk for a week," I remind and Cassian smiles proudly.
"And now you're stronger than ever, seems like you should take my advice more often," He crosses his arms over his chest defensively. I turn my head slightly to look at the blonde, this time I catch a glimpse of her face. I swore I'd seen her before, but I couldn't quite place where from.
"Does it make you mad he's talking to her?" Cassian taunts from beside my ear. "Letting her touch him?" He sings and I push the Lord of Bloodshed away in frustration as he cackles, his raucous laughter slowly fading as I march my way through the crowd, which divided in sight of Azriel's silky shadows swirling from my arms as if they were mine to control.
I pushed my way past grinding bodies until I managed to land right beside the Spymaster. His hazel eyes met my own and a soft smile spread over his lips. I joined his side and his arm came around my waist as if it were meant to fit there, slotting perfectly in place. I met the face of the blonde girl and it clicked that face, I knew her.
"Y/n!" The girl squealed and I blinked in slight surprise.
"Misha?" My brows raise a fraction.
"My gods, I haven't seen you since the healing camps, how have you been?" She gasped and I looked up at Azriel who was staring at the both of us confused.
"Oh my gods, are you two like a thing?" Misha asks excitedly.
"Oh, we're—" Azriel starts.
"Engaged," I finished for him, the lie coming so easily it shocked us both. Her jaw drops. Misha had always been better than me, at everything. When we were training to become healers she always had to be one step ahead, always had to go above and beyond while I was struggling to meet my deadlines. She was pretty and fun, and for once, I just wanted to be above her, to feel that power she must feel at a constant— and if that meant lying about my relationship status with one of the hottest men on the continent, so be it.
"Let me see the ring!" She squealed, happy for me. I hated that. She didn't seem to have an envious bone in her body, and why would she? She was the ideal emulation of perfection. For her, there was nothing to be jealous of.
"Oh I don't have it on me, Az here loves his secrets being spymaster and all so I don't wear it out," I pat his abdomen with a feigned smile, and he flexes under my touch.
"Giving her a ring is like putting a target on her back," Azriel plays along, I hadn't expected him to, honestly I was hoping he'd just stand there and nod and not say anything but this was so much better.
"Awe isn't that just precious," She smiles, a natural blush coming to her pale cheeks. "I'm still waiting to find the one," She sighs. "You're lucky you came over or I would've tried to swoop him up!" She giggled light-heartedly and I matched it, but it was fake, gods I wanted to claw her face off.
"No, no he's all mine," I sigh contentedly, leaning into his side while his grip on my waist tightened.
"When'd you know she was the one?" She directs at Azriel and I swallow thickly. The Shadow Singer was a good liar, but would he lie if only to play this game with me?
"I've always known, the moment I met her my Shadows practically mummified her, so I suppose they were the ones to tell me," Azriel says, his story reigned true, I can still remember how embarrassed he was, repeatedly swearing that they had never done that before when the Dark clung to me without resistance. Those same shadows now pooled at my feet. "And it was kind of hard to not fall from there," He adds and I look up at him, only to see him already staring down at me. Gods he was good at this role, he slipped so easily into it— if I didn't know any better I'd think we were actually engaged.
"You guys are adorable, I can only dream of having a male like you," She sighs and I grit my teeth. Was she seriously hitting on him after I just told her were to be married?
The bartender places a lone fruity drink down in front of the three of us and Misha takes it with a bright smile. "It was nice catching up with you, we should totally hang out sometime," She offered and I pinch my lower lip between my teeth.
"I'm kind of busy with all this wedding stuff, maybe after," I shrug, giving her the hint that I wanted nothing to do with her beyond this interaction.
"Right, keep me updated," She flashes a smile and leaves with a wink toward Azriel as she leaves.
"What was that?" Azriel murmured as soon as she was out of earshot. I unraveled my arm from his torso and he did the same with my waist. I shrugged.
"She doesn't deserve you," I mumbled, leaning against the bar.
"She seemed nice enough for a night," Azriel hummed and I rolled my eyes.
"I know Misha, you don't want a girl like her," I shake my head. The bartender places two glasses in front of me. I take the one on the left, the drink I always ordered.
"You really hate her huh?" He leans closer, taking his drink.
"She fucked my boyfriend while we were still dating," I grumbled. "Seemed like she wanted to fuck you too after I told her we were engaged, she hasn't changed," I huff and his brows rise a fraction.
"It's kind of fun playing the role of your fiancé," He says, his chin propping up onto my head as his hands snake around my waist. I smile.
"What's your ex-boyfriend's name, just for reference?" He said and I giggled.
"You're not killing him," I warn, turning around to face him, my back to the bar and my chest to his.
"A light torture," He shrugs.
"Your version of light torture is another males hell," I reason.
"So why'd you lie? About us being together?" He asks, head tilting. I twist my lips to the side.
"She's always been ahead of me, I wanted to win for once," I grumble, sounding pitiful aloud.
"Ahead of you how?" He questions and I frown, not wanting to say it.
"I don't know, she's prettier than me," I grumble.
"Lies, you're the prettiest girl in the whole wide world," He reasons and I scoff, shaking my head with a small smile.
"You don't have to do that," I excuse. "Do what?"
"Lie in order to make me feel better, it's fine, really," I argue with him but I swear it went in one ear and out the other.
"I'm not lying," He denies.
"But you are making me feel better?" I question.
"You tell me." He smiles and I don't reply, because he was, and I didn't want to give him that ego boost. "So you think she's prettier— which she's not, what else?" He arches a brow and tilts his head. I shrug, avoiding his gaze.
"Cass says I'm jealous," I exhale, crossing my arms over my chest and looking up at him with a pout.
"Of what?" His hand comes to my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw as if of was a casual movement.
"The way she looked at you, how you let her touch you," I explain and his gaze softened.
"I'm the one touching you now, right?" He surmises, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as I continue to scowl up at him.
"It was different Az, you were flirting with her. I could see it," I rolled my eyes and he only smiled.
"And what are we doing now?" He questioned. If he was waiting for me to admit to whatever this was between us, I wasn't going to.
"A friendly conversation," I shrug and he leans down, closer to me. I press back into the counter behind me.
"I think pinning you to the bar is anything but friendly," He concludes. "That's normal for us."
"Why do you think that is?"
I don't answer. He's trapped me into recognizing what I refused to so I don't say anything at all. It was devastatingly obvious that I wanted him, did he have to rub salt in the wound? "You want to get out of here?" He asks after a moment of silence. I swallow thickly and settle over the fact that this is my chance, and perhaps my only one if I don't take it. So I nod, and he takes my hand.
The walk home was silent, Azriel offered to fly us back but I preferred to walk along the Sidra, it was quiet enough at this time of night to be able to hear the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking. It was peaceful, and the night breeze always patched up whatever had been broken in the past few weeks. It was refreshing and peaceful and everything I needed.
The steps to my apartment were in sight when I finally got the courage to speak.
"Cassian was right, I was jealous," I confess and his brows raise a fraction, his gaze sliding to me with curious eyes. "I just, I want you to look at me the way you looked at her," My confession knocks me off balance, if he had a reaction I didn't notice.
"I don't," He says curtly and I blink, slightly taken aback. "I looked at her like that because she was a stranger, I never want you to be unfamiliar," He explains and my heart pounds against my ribs so hard I thought they might break.
I stop at the first step of my apartment, freezing in place due to his confession. "Are you blushing?" He teased when I turned to face him and even with my advantage of the first step, he still stood a few inches taller than me.
"Shut up," I grumble, pressing my hands to my face to hide myself from his piercing stare.
"Are you going to make me?" He grabs my wrists and takes my hands from my face, revealing that he has leaned so much closer. "Hm? Fiancée?" He jeers and my blush deepens in color.
"You're never letting that go, are you?" I sigh, slinging my arms around his neck, still trying to grasp the fact that he was so close, that he was willing to be so close.
"Not ever," He shakes his head, his eyes flicking down from my eyes to my lips, then right back to my eyes so fast I would've missed it if I blinked. My breath catches in my throat but neither of us makes a move to pull away, just remain inches away, wondering if the other will do what we've been dancing around all this time.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but I beat him to it, walking up another step and away from his very tempting lips.
"I better get to bed, it's been a long day," I excuse as I stumble up the stairs but before I can get far he grabs my hand and pulls me right back down. I stumble right into his chest and he smiles down at me, his other hand coming to my waist.
"You really thought I wasn't going to kiss you?" He hums and I'm nothing but stunned.
"A little, yeah," I murmur.
"You're ridiculous," He mumbles as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I melt into him, my arms coming around the back of his neck as I revel in this moment, gods it was just how I had imagined.
His lips were soft and his movements were skilled, his hands on my hips distracting me entirely as he gripped them tight, pulling me impossibly closer like he couldn't get enough. My hands go into his hair, pushing his mouth onto mine with a restless intent. There was a burning fire inside of me and he seemed to be the only thing that defused it, yet still, I couldn't get enough.
He pulled away first and I reluctantly followed his actions. "Do you want to come up?" I offer and he smirks, then it falters and he shakes his head no. My smile morphs into a frown. Did he think it was a mistake? He hasn't moved away, he didn't seem repulsed.
"We should go slow, I want to do this right," He explains and my smile returns, much to his satisfaction.
"Then why don't you come up for a glass of wine? We don't have to do anything," I say, desperate at this point for anything he'd give me.
"You know if I go up there we won't just be kissing," He reasons and I shrug mischievously.
"There's nothing wrong with that," I grin, my arms around the back of his neck tightening.
"I'm doing it the right way, I'm taking you out tomorrow, be ready by dawn," He flashes me a grin, his touch lingering on my hips as he slowly pulls away.
"Dawn?!" I gasp a little too loudly for my quiet street.
"We're going to be doing stuff all day," He smiles. "Be ready," He demands and I groan, wishing I could have him in my arms again. "I'll see you at dawn, my love," He waves from over his shoulder.
My love, he said. I could feel my heart swelling and before I could forget how to walk I quickly made my way up the stairs and into my apartment with a wide grin over my features.
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simpjaes · 2 days
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Enhypen drabble when you get overstimulated (sorry idk if you have done this already)
hyung line + when you're overstimulated
★ heeseung:
the type to do it entirely on purpose and relish in the way you plead, writhe, and try to get away from him on instinct. the best part of it is that he knows you want him to keep going, you've told him before. so, yes, he'd hold you down and only go harder. after all, the fact that you'll let your clit hurt for him drives him up a fucking wall. he'd definitely make sure to pull it out of you any and every time he gets between your legs. pinching and biting you, rubbing too harshly just after an orgasm to keep you in the game, licking up your pretty tears and making damn sure you're struggling to decide if he's hurting you or making you feel better than he ever has.
☆ jay:
does it without really realizing he is but loves the way you act nonetheless. always such intimate sex until you're shifting your body and your legs are shaking. little whimpers and pants of "slow down," and "i'm too sensitive." i think it would make something break in his brain, to where he would absolutely slow down but he wouldn't stop. if anything, he'd probably watch you more intensely, fuck you deeper, and essentially probably cum far too quickly after seeing you let him do as he pleases solely because he meets you half way with it.
on another note, im a fan of jay getting lost in the heat of the moment and absolutely just going, going, going. through your orgasm, making your entire body feel too hot to the point you feel light headed. and you know, he'd be so lost in the sauce that he probably wouldn't even realize that he's nearly bruising your pussy ;o; only after the fact would he realize and give you a million kisses like "omg im so sorry, why didn't you say anything?" but then you'd just be like "it felt good after a while...." and BOOM, he's horny again.
★ jake:
does it to you both intentionally and unintentionally. very much a mix of both heeseung and jay with this motherfucker right here. he'll be in the middle of trying to torture your clit then lose his cool and start chasing his own pleasure. probably the type to get overstimulated with you, where you're both on the brink of tears, trying to writhe both away from each other and against each other for more. it would get super intense with him too. like he'd use hands, mouth, and cock in ways that are so rough neither of you realize it til you're coming back to reality and both of you are sore and in pain.
10/10 jake overstimulates both of you to the point that sex is almost always a reason to call out of work or class the next day.
☆ sunghoon:
he's a fan of edging you and overstimulation so I can imagine he'd be very deliberate with how he works your body while neglecting his own until the time is right. absolutely will not fuck you until you're overstimulated and begging for it. i'm talking upwards of an hour or two just to get you to the point you can barely stand looking at him if he's not going to fuck you. until you're mad that he's making it hurt soooo good but not giving you what you really need. and he's an evil motherfucker too. he'd smirk, chuckle, and say things like "aw, already? it's only been an hour." and "does it hurt enough, baby? you want me to make it better now?" only to not make it better because he's not done playing with you. unfortunate for him though, he always loses the power the second he sinks into that clenching overstimulated pussy :( loses his goddamn mind chasing your hips, both of you almost always getting off within a minute or two solely from your overstimulation and his complete neglect of himself.
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embrosegraves · 2 days
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𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣
Oscar Piastri x Horner!Reader Oscar finds that having a crush having less than platonic feelings for your boss's only adult daughter is apparently free real estate for some of F1's biggest gossips
Warnings: As per, explicit language and grammatical errors.
dates on tweets don't exist, right? they're all just fake??
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Aus GP
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oscarpiastri A week full of sim training, rage rooms and relaxation before going home for a p1 on the podium (hopefully) (max let me have this i beg) tagged: redbullracing, yn.horner
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logansargeant did I not tell you rage rooms were the coolest ever -> oscarpiasrti yeah yeah keep bragging 🙄 -> logansargeant well since you gave me permission-
fan38 at least its a controlled environment to deal with your emotions -> yn.horner thank FUCK i convinced him to do this instead of what Ruben wanted -> rubenholtt what was wrong with egging and tp-ing her house? -> yn.horner uhh everything???
maxverstappen1 I'm not gonna go easy on you just because you grew up 10 minutes from the track -> oscarpiastri BOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅
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yn.horner has posted a new story!
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user358 make him wear them!!
oscarpiastri The glasses are NOT the issue and you know it. -> yn.horner What you think I don't look good with facial hair? -> oscarpiastri Hey don't put words in my mouth -> oscarpiastri I just wasn't expecting you to pick up looking like THAT
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redbullracing The face of a man that snagged P2 AT HIS HOME RACE, channelled his inner Elle Woods ("What, like it's hard?") and then proceeded to not elaborate any further tagged: oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri What can I say, I'm just built diff 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️ -> liked by author
danielricciardo We stand on business here -> oscarpiastri And that's on what? -> yn.horner PERIODTTTTTT
user325 AND NOT A SINGLE DISQUAL IN SIGHT -> danielricciardo 😢😢 -> user325 sorry Danny -> danielricciardo 😒🫶
Japan GP
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yn.horner having matching plushies always helps me feel better when i'm away from home
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oscarpiastri what names have you chosen for yours? assuming that whoever they match with has named theirs -> yn.horner their names are confidential i'm afraid -> oscarpiastri boooooo no fun :(
user549 wish my boyfriend did this for me -> user550 babe, we're literally on our way to go buy jellycats -> user549 ok and???
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if you see this, know that you WILL be getting the next update after the Imola GP i promise.
I've been in a really odd spot in my life where I haven't been very motivated to do any writing (or even just creating in general) for long burst of time, which means that any requests I have been sent previously have been sitting in my drafts half finished because I cannot for the life of me find any inspiration to write anything.
I count myself lucky that I had enough motivation and energy to start pre-planning for the rest of this series. If you take a look at the series masterlist you'll notice that there are numbers next to the current chapters and beyond. I've decided that the entire series is going to be 14 chapters in total with a bonus chapter for Oscar and Y/n's shenanigans at the end of the 2024 season.
I can't thank everyone enough for being so incredibly patient with me as I try to work through this writing slump. Slowly but surely I will start uploading fic reqs again
-- Embrose xx
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asmolfolk · 2 days
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Married! Boothill with kids.
"Oh, to be the one who married Boothill… A dream that yours truly writer would love to live. So, did you even think about it?"
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Idea: Married Boothill with kids. Fandom: Honkai Star Rail. Character: Boothill. Genre: Fluffy and a tiny tiny lil' bit of angst! There's a small mention of sex too. TW? Spoilers/leaks ahead! ─────────────────────────── As you guys voted: Boothill with kids it is! Just to make sure you all know, the first part is HIM as a Husband. AFTER THAT It's him as a dad. It was really fun doing this as this was something that I thought about with him with my Yume <3 Also: If you take inspiration or use this as a reference, please TAG ME!! I RLLY WANT TO SEE! I will do way more Boothill too! So stay tunned, the next one will be: "One last time." A short-fic~
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When you were about to proclaim your title as "HIS PARTNER", you could see the way that his eyes shined as he looked at you. For once, it was certain: This man was IN LOVE with you. The way he seemed to be completely lost in your eyes as you talked to him, The way he would hold your hands… For the first time in forever, you saw him so vulnerable. And, then, when you two looked at each other and finally kissed. It wasn’t a kiss like the many others you two would share, it was… Sweet, it was gentle and held on a flame that you could never think that someone could feel.
As the day would pass by... You were sure you married the right man, he's eyes showed nothing but devotion, love and everything else you could EVER imagine to have someone looking you as. He literally seemed to be falling in love with you a hundred times PER second.
You saw how... Sad he looked as he would see the family of your friends, but then... It was just one look at you and you could almost read exactly what he was thinking: "I also DO have a family now."
But, enough with that! Let’s talk about how he IS as a Married man.
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At first, you didn’t notice it but he would look at you for longer, his eyes were always checking on you - as If he was scared to see you disappear if his eyes were somewhere else. Every Time you talked, he would immediately look at you with those big heart eyes. [I swear! Instead of a gun point, it looks like this:] (Also, just wanted to point out that he canonically blushes - the shy expression - even at his nose.)
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(I edited those images!! - The little hearts and the blushing)
I SWEAR! He looks so blushy and shy, but don't be tricked by that fool expression! He is going to say some really romantical stuff out of nowhere, always trying to make you blush just like him. Not only that, but Boothill also seems to LOVE messing with you... But can't quite handle you making this back, at least, not in the beginning.
"Doll, aren't ya' the prettiest being in the universe? I could swear ya' were one of those goddess of beauty that the red haired knight would tal' about." - He would smile as he hold your hand, bringing it closer to his lips - "I could jus' survive by looking at you." His words were always so sweet and full of love, he could NEVER say something bad about you - Also because of his beacon. He would always try to make you feel loved by his words, even more after being married to you.
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 As your husband, he would always be close to you. Normally, he loves to make you feel his face… It’s the only place he can feel it too. So, he loves EVERYTHING that could work with that.  He would let his head resting on your lap, chest, belly, shoulder - ANYTHING. His head slowly turned into something that he communicates BEAUTIFULLY with you about.  Sometimes, you compare him to an animal - More specifically a dog or a fox - because they would usually rub their head against their owners or to receive more attention.  Even so, it was nice. Even if he was a bit heavy, those moments could be cherished as really important.
It was close to noon, still… Boothill was laying his head against your chest not even moving a finger while he recharged and kept his eyes closed. You were sleeping, he knew you were tired and he didn’t let you do anything else before you could receive a good sleep for some minutes. He swore to wake you up before it was too late for your compromise. When it hitted the exact hour you asked him to wake you up, he immediately started to try to wake you. He didn’t even think about letting you sleep, if you INSISTED on going: It was important and he TRULY didn’t want to ruin anything you were on. “Doll? Partner! Spouse.” - When you finally woke up or stopped asking for more minutes, he would hold you even closer - “It’s time for you to do your stuff.” When he did that, he knew it was only a favor but he always loved when you gave him a kiss or a praise for waking you in time. They were more than just happy to help you out. As he received his reward for waking you up, he would help around anything you needed as you did your own thing.
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He would show you off... But not in THAT strange way, no. He would proudly show everyone EVERYTHING you did - with your consent. You are an artist? Well, pal, seems like Pom Pom and the WHOOOLE Astral express LOVES your art, even the unimpressed trailblazer. [They asked you to make... A drawing of them and a trashcan falling in love?-]  You make outfits? Seems like Argenti and others fashion and beauty freaks are making lots and lots of commissions.  You BAKE?! Well, sweetie. For the first time, you saw lots of Galaxy Rangers at your door, asking for your prices and sweets.  You KNOW that this was ALL him. But, even though you could think that he was trying to help you out - He would confess that he just couldn't stop talking about you to them.  He is the sweetest cyborg hubby.
“My husband…” - You didn’t even need to call for him again, he stopped cleaning his guns and immediately came to you - “Could you perhaps explain to me why a lot of people started calling me and following me on social media?” “Oh… About that, darlin’… I may or may not talk about your skills at the bar…” - You couldn’t even get mad. He was at a BAR and the only thing he did was talk about you and drink, it was… Strangely nice, you felt a little tingle' in your heart as you heard him talk about what he said. You couldn’t even handle a laugh while you told him that it was okay.
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As your husband, you should’ve known that he would do anything AND everything to just see you smile. He was already like this… But you DID NOT expect how far he would go. If he saw you sad, he would sit down and ask you about everything. He believes in trust and that THINGS can be solved talking [with words or guns] and he WOULD NEVER try to buy your happiness.  Not only that, he knows how to make you feel better. He made sure to remember every forking time you were feeling bad and he helped you… He always made sure to remember: What worked, what didn’t work, what helped a bit and what you HATED.
”Darlin’, you can’t be in your room forever.” - He heard a low (Watch me) from you and he chuckled - “I know ya’ are upset, but, lemme tell ya’ something darlin’... I just bought the whole Phantom of the Opera Musical and the Movie to watch with you and sing too… But I guess our musical karaoke can wait”  The moment you came out of the room, you were met with Boothill wearing the Phantom’s mask. “Now, come, my Angel of Music… Let’s start that thing.”
Just a bonus: I’m OBSESSIVE over Musicals. I love them so much!! And I think that Boothill would love them too, at first: He would say that he doesn’t like them that much: The only ones he saw were really poorly made.  But when you showed them your FAVS? THEY WERE IN LOVE! He started to sing along with you, loving the way you would always pick the best couples to interpret as.  The first musical he loved was The Addam’s Family: He was the Gomez of your Mortícia. You two would sing along so sweetly that you thought about submitting to be them.  Also: Never show Dear Evan Hansen to him, he will NOT stop trying to cry for a MONTH or WORSE. (Or do show.)
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 As your husband… Oh, dear. His kisses were the BEST!! He CAN’T go one day without kissing you at least three times in a day. He loves feeling your lips, he loves taking your breath out and letting you feel all hot and bothered. Knowing that - even with that metal body - can make you blush and shy away or giggle or just look at him full of love was enough for him.
 “Please… Again.” - He would ask and, as always, you would indulge. You kissed him, he would hold you so close that you thought he was trying to merge with you - “Ya’ are so… Amazing.” - He said, with a big smile while backing away for one second - “I could lose myself… In those big ol’ eyes of ya’” “Then, why don’t you?” “I want to still be able to live with ya’, to feel you… Not only to observe but to be present. If I were to lose myself on ya’ every time, where would I have the time to show ya’ my whole forking affection?”
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As your husband… He would never let you without aftercare. He would clean you up and let you relax as he does all the work, he is never tired, not after the modifications… So he doesn’t really need a rest. When he came across you, he finally noticed how cute you were. Letting you rest and caressing your head, he would pick you up to the bath… He would take care of you just like you always did with him.
”Are ya’ okay, darlin’? Want something?” - He asked as he massaged your back while you relaxed at the bath - “Food, water… Anything?” “Hmmm… Juss… Keep this up.” - You would answer, almost sleeping. His massage skills have improved a lot since the first time he did it, it was incredible - “I’m so… Tired, I just want to sleep.” “Hah… Aren’t ya a sleepy one? Well, I can do that for you.” - Again, he would take care of you… Even if it means learning new skills, learning how to hold you while drying you with a towel, learning how to help you put on your clothes or to just lead you to the bedroom. Learning how to look at your face and control himself to not kiss you: You were tired, he should NOT make any move to start something more right now. Learning how to hug you, learning how to let his head rest on your shoulder… Learning how it feels to hear your heart, learning how good it is to sleep hearing it.
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As your Husband, you can always expect good things from him… But there was one thing you never expected. When he told you about his family. [Spoilers/Leaks ahead!!]  He was always so… Cheerful and silly while with you, you never DID expect to be meeted with such a cruel and terrifying backstory.  The way he told you about his family… About that little girl that he took care of, about his daughter. How she died… How he lost EVERYONE in one day. One day was enough.  He explained that… He truly felt like you could disappear if he didn’t try to make things right, if he didn’t protect you enough.
 When he stopped for a second, looked at his hands… You didn’t expect the words that followed: “I… Never thought I would find a family again or someone to care about me. Not in this condition, I…’m so forking grateful to have meeted ya’. Not one freaking day I passed without loving you even more.”
 “Darlin’, ya saw my bad sides… You saw how disgusting I look… And even so, ya still keep around… I don’t know why, I don’t even want to know why you stayed… In my head, it doesn’t matter why… I love you.”
“Sorry for that big talk, but ya know how I am sometimes;”
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As your husband and future Father, he would try to see if he could get you pregnant… If not, he would suggest adopting and then, you hitted him with an idea… That he loved: “What if we adopted kids from destroyed planets by the Ipc? Kids that live in shelters.” He knew, YOU were the one for him FOR SURE!
“Dove, you are a genius!” He would say, holding you and twirling you around - “I knew it! I knew it!... I knew that you were always the right one.”
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PAPA BOOTHILL!
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As a father, Boothill would probably adopt as many as he could. So I won’t tell you numbers exactly… But he would have a lot, he would be a total girl’s dad. Sweets, you could EVEN SEE: Boothill having their make-up done by the girls, playing with dolls with them, letting them play with his hair and the list goes on and on. You knew he would be a good dad and he exceeds your expectations. He would be so gentle and calm with the kids that many would think that he is another person: But you knew more than them. You would see him always playing, always making them laugh… And, of course: You would always be involved. It was NEVER always: “Just Dad and the Girls”, you were close. In any activity that you could participate in, the kids and Boothill were more than happy to have you around. The kids, some in 4~5, others newborns… Others almost or are teenagers, would be so happy playing and just studying with their papa.
”PAPA! MOMMA! LOOK!” - One of the oldest showed you their report card, they were an +A student - “I’m so so happy!! Are y’all proud of me?!” It was in a second, Boothill was holding the teenager - That he named Aponi - while screaming of happiness. “THAT’S MA GIRL! YOU SHOWED THAT FORKING PAPER WHO IS THE BOSS!” - He would cheer up with you. “We are so proud, Apo! You studied so much… You deserve a break… How about your favorite place for tonight? I know you wanted to go there.” “R-Really?! We can go!?” “Why, of course! You know that we just want your happiness more than anything… And, if that place makes you happy: It makes us happy too. Thank you for your hard work, Aponi… You did soo great!” “Yeah, gal, you deserve every compliment! But just so y’know… If you want something else, just ask me and I’ll buy it for ya.”
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As a father: He pampers his kids a lot… You could ask him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He has the money, the resources EVERYTHING to make this worth it… So he wants to, he wants - more than anything - to make this right.  He couldn’t pamper his daughter properly and he CAN’T handle the thought that he may not be able to pamper any of his kids. He NEEDS to pamper, he feels like an obligation.  Sometimes, you need to step up and try to put limitations on what he’s doing. He still needs to understand somestuff.
”Dear, you know that Kiona is only 5 months old, right? What’s she going to do with 8 pokemon’s plushies and those pokemon cards?”  “She likes watching it… So I bought it so when she grows up, she will still have those.”
...
“Dear… I told you not to buy more of those for Nashoba. He needs to take better care of his teeths and the doctor told us to control the candies.”  “I know, I know… But it was only one…” ... “Dear… Are you giving your credit card to a 12 year old?”  “WHAT- Nooo… She just wanted to buy things for herself like a big girl, but I’m going to be right at her side!”
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As a father: He wouldn’t scream at his kids… NEVER. He would never even raise a hand, he would always talk and make sure that they KNOW that this IS a safe place. If you do something wrong, he is going to take care of it… YOU all are going to take care of it together.  Even when his kid came across with a sad face while asking for forgiveness when they didn’t pass with all A+ and they started crying because they were scared that they would be sent alway… Boothill was hella mad but, right in front of his child, he would calm them, saying that they did their best and he would boost them up.  Telling them that their grades were awesome and that they were so intelligent. Boothill would concentrate on what he KNOWS his kids like and praise them for it…  As for the situation mentioned while you take care of the other children… He would have “a talk” with the kids' old parents.
”Booth-... Oh, I see.” You saw him, without any blood, but by his expression: You knew he killed them - “Are you okay?” “I’m better now… I discovered the whole scheme about those muddle-fudgers… They got what they deserved.”  “I’m proud of you.” - You said, holding his hand and letting his head fall into your chest - “Thank you for protecting our children…”
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As a father, you knew that Boothill would do anything for your kids. It didn’t matter if they were adoptive or biological, he would treat them the EXACT same. Of course, he would spend a lil’ bit more time with those who want to follow his path… But, he would never let the others feel jealous about that.  Not only this but he would also show the kids some skills he has. He would sing them songs, give them musical instruments if they are interested in… They would form a lil’ band together and you would be their singer.  The kids were in love with that idea, even the ones who weren’t interested in music would participate: Dancing, making drawings, outfits and etc etc etc.
”Ohhh! Those are so cute!” - Said March 7 looking at your kids drawings - “Your kids are so talented!”  The Astral Express became one of your kids favorite spots, even so that some of them want to become one.  The sweet look on Welt's face when one of them told him that they wanted to become just like him.  The look on Himeko’s face when one of the kids revealed that they didn’t like coffee until they tried hers.  The look on March's face when the lil’ girl called for her, saying that she loved March and that she would always appreciate the photos they took together.  The look on Dan Heng’s face when the quiet kid told him that they would love to be like him and take care of the databank.  The look on the Trailblazer’s face when one the kids helped them to search for trash cans and even complimented the trash cans with them.  The look on PomPom’s face when one the youngest said their name.  Oh, the Astral Express LOVES your kids. They let them enter ANY time and would love to babysit them.
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As a father, you knew that Boothill made them love you even more, you knew that by the way the kids asked about you guys' love life once they grew up. The more romantical ones would dream loudly about how they would wish to have a romance like that - making Papa Boothill notice how fast your kids were growing.  And, when you asked about who they wanted to be with… The answers came fastly. It was a big difference between other relationships, they were open with you two. They - YES - would tell if they were uncomfortable talking about something, but, even so… The ones who weren’t would tell you guys everything.
”I met this really cute boy at Xianzhou! He was soo cute!” - One of your kids said - “I thought to myself: They are so skilled and such a cute lil’ fellow.”  “Sis, you are younger than him.”  “Lemme praise him for a second!!”
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As a father, he was more than happy to have a family. He would be happy with just you… But with all of them, they remind him so much of his first daughter… Of his siblings. He, to himself, would wish that they could see him right now… And be sure:
”It took a while for me… But, now… I have a family again. My two families will always be together in my heart.”
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So, we reached the end! Hope you guys enjoyed it and that this made your day a bit brighter. As someone who sees Boothill as a comfort character, having people interested on my writting for him is such a nice touch. I can only thank you guys for your support and for reading until here. Thank you. If anyone wishes to be in the taglist for upcomming Boothill's oneshots, headcanons and imagines - Please tell me! And for those who wanted Angst, maybe I'll do the angst one someday <3
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Taglist: @spaeko, @4onlyyouruse.
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heich0e · 23 hours
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keishin finally (finally) gets you into bed with him—well, onto couch with him, in his little one-room apartment in the back of sakanoshita mart—and he thinks all his prayers have finally been answered. thinks he's found some sort of cosmic apology for every misfortune he's ever suffered in how soft your lips are against his and how sweet you taste.
he knows he doesn't deserve this; that he hasn't done anything in his unremarkable life to merit how good you feel underneath his hands, or how dizzying those little noises you're making when he touches you are. but, against all odds, you're really here, you really want him, and he's determined not to fuck this up.
"keishin."
every time you say his name he feels like he's hearing it for the first time. like he's being blessed by it. it takes him a moment to process the way you've called for his attention as he suckles a little bruise against your throat, using every modicum of will he has left in him to pull away and meet your gaze.
you look so good underneath him on his ugly, ancient couch that it makes him ache. your lips glossy and swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded and yearning. you reach up and touch his cheek, and he can't tell if your hand is cool or his face is burning.
"do you have a condom?"
and all at once keishin comes crashing—violently, disastrously, crushingly—back to earth.
he blinks at you, wide-eyed, in the wake of your question. you seem to understand his answer even though he can't bring himself to say it.
"are there any in the shop?" you ask him, optimistic and gentle, with an encouraging smile.
keishin perks up—visibly brightening at your moment of genius—but as quickly as the hope uplifts him, he's deflating again. he pinches his bottom lip between his teeth.
"we're out right now," he murmurs sheepishly, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.
he only keeps a couple of boxes of condoms behind the counter at a time, since so few people ever come in asking for them. last week takinoue had showed up half-hammered two hours after closing, and banged on the shop door until keishin grumpily answered it. his drunk friend went on to explain that he'd gone out drinking with his colleague from work and she'd invited him home with her, but he desperately needed condoms. keishin chucked the last box at his stupid face, and yusuke swore up and down their next night out drinking would be his treat before skittering off into the night again with a grin from ear to ear.
he was going to kill yusuke with his bare hands the next time he saw him.
"keishin, it's okay," you say with a light laugh at the positively crestfallen look on his face. "we don't have to—"
"no!" keishin interrupts you before you can say the words he just cant bear to hear. not right now. not from you.
even if you promise him that this could happen again another time—that you don't have to go all the way tonight, that there will be other opportunities—he has no way of knowing if that's true. no way of guaranteeing it.
he's got a taste for you now. he knows what you sound like. he knows how you feel.
and he refuses to let this opportunity pass him by.
keishin pulls himself upright so quickly from where he'd been hovering overtop of you on his lumpy sofa that he almost gives himself whiplash. he stumbles up to his feet, brushing his bleached hair back from his eyes—he's not sure where or when he'd lost his hairband, but the strands are hanging freely now and falling into his gaze. he grabs his jacket from the floor where he'd hastily shucked it when the two of you stumbled through the door in the throes of passion.
"I'm just gonna run to shimada mart!" he says to you as he stuffs his arms ungracefully into the sleeves of his jacket, his words so frantic they're almost bleeding together. "it's only about 10 minutes away, if you just wait right here—"
"keishin."
"shouldn't be longer than 25 minutes! 20, even! i might even be able to get macchan to drive me back if—"
"keishin, wait."
your laughter makes him stop dead in his tracks, halfway to the door. he's only got one slide on his foot, the other still sock-clad, and in his haste he realizes he'd grabbed his television remote instead of his cellphone to shove into his coat pocket.
you've caught him by the sleeve of his jacket, holding the material pinched between your thumb and forefinger as you stare up at him from the sofa with the sweetest smile on your face. he's frozen as he peers down at you, his lips parted, his dick still half-hard in his jeans.
"don't go," you say to him, tugging him back towards you by your grip on his cuff. he moves easily, gravitating back into your orbit in spite of how gentle the actual pull had been.
"b-but,"—keishin casts a forlorn glance back in the direction of his apartment door—"what about the condoms?"
his voice cracks a little on the question and he has genuinely never wished so ardently for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
you release his sleeve in favour of twining your fingers with his now that he's near to you again, your soft hand slipping easily into his own. that same dull ache in the pit of his core (and between his legs) throbs again as you blink up at him.
"i've been trying to tell you," you begin, a bit exasperated but not without its own fondness. you hesitate a little, looking away shyly before adding, "we don't... need one."
keishin thinks he might die.
really, genuinely die.
he wonders if maybe this is what the old man felt like when he almost keeled over from that heart attack last year, because keishin's pulse is pounding so violently in his head he feels like his vision is going a bit spotty around the edges—like when you stand up too fast after a night of drinking.
he's brought back to the moment as your hand squeezes his own—a gentle, questioning gesture.
your lashes flutter as you blink up at him, your head tilting slightly to the side. you smile a little at the dumbfounded look on his face.
"...if that's okay with you?"
(keishin pays for takinoue's drinks for the next six months, but never explains why.)
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gay-dorito-dust · 3 days
Note
Could I request Dan Heng (IL) finding out his s/o loves to cuddle his tail?
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The first time he caught you cuddling his tail, nuzzling your face into it with a content look upon your face, his whole body immediately went stiff and his face grew warm, hyper aware of how every inch of your body was pressed against his tail due to it’s sensitivity; especially towards the end of said tail.
He doesn’t mind it if it’s you who’s cuddling his tail, after all you are his partner and if it had been anyone else then it would’ve become an issue of his personal space being breeched.
He doesn’t find issue with his tail being used as your pillow as it tickled a certain part of his brain that made him happy in knowing that he was being helpful towards his partner, the other half of his soul, his mate in every sense of the word.
So if Dan heng were to ever see you looking more exhausted than usual, he’ll take you somewhere secure and away from prying eyes and present you with his tail, pushing it towards you in his own way of telling you that you can cuddle with it.
What you don’t know is that the reason he’s so okay with you cuddling his tail is because you acted as a heater of sorts, and Dan heng soon grew addicted to your warmth seeping through his tail and throughly warming him up during the colder days on the express. Does he feel guilty for using you for his own gain? Yes. Does he regret it? No because once he got a taste for just how easily you warmed up his entire tail, he wants you to cuddle up to it all the time, but just didn’t know how to say it without feeling stupid.
He may or may not use his tail to tug you closer by the wrist, or by the waist and pull you in close as his own way of telling you that he’d like for you to cuddle his tail. Words fail him during these moments but his actions expressed his wants and needs perfectly.
He could be sitting down somewhere and reading a book before catching sight of you from the corner of his eye as you walked up to him and wordlessly presents you his tail, taking secret pride in seeing you brightening up upon seeing it and cuddling up to it almost immediately and sighing in content.
‘Thank you Dan Heng, I needed this.’ You’d tell him as you rubbed your cheek against the scales of his tail, completely unaware of the emotions you were bringing out of him by doing so.
‘I only assumed you needed to alleviate some stress from today’s mission.’ He tells you casually but the soft smile growing upon his face told you another story and it made you smile in response as you closed your eyes and made yourself comfortable.
‘Sure that’s the real reason why you let me cuddle your tail so often.’ You teased but before Dan Heng could ask what you meant by that, you had already fallen fast asleep.
Dan Heng may not know the true reason why you liked cuddling his tail but he doesn’t mind for as long as you are comfortable and happy, then he was more then willing to endure anything just to see you happy and well rested. For you happiness was his top priority and if cuddling his tail made you happy, then who was he to stop you?
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yurinaa-world · 3 days
Note
hii, may i send in a request for Blade, Jing Yuan, Aventurine and Sunday with platonic headcanons of them maybe with their child who has a severe illness? Like how would they look after them/attend to them.
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Characters: Blade, Jing Yuan, Aventurine & Sunday !Platonic x Gender-neutral Reader
Synopsis: with a reader who has a severe illness + how would they look after you
Warnings: angst to sort of comfort?, spelling mistakes,
notes: I'm sooo jetlagged rn
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𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒
Death can come in seconds with a person even realizing but you do anything since it’s already too late. It’s the same in the end, you cry, give flowers since regret means more than gratitude ever could; then just leave and never look back.
Does it have to be the same? Not for you. He'll care even when no one else will, he’ll stay and listen to you cry, even if it’s a childish thing like wanting to see the world instead of being stuck in this awful room with wires attached to your body.
He visits when he can–which is when he’s not on missions–when he isn’t he stays with you most of the time, showing up with bags of gifts but what’s the use if you’re paralyzed, too tired to move yet not enough to finally sleep–at least to be free for a couple of hours of pain–So the gifts are open and sit around your room to make the room look alive.
He ends up sitting with you in silence, watching if your heart rate went up or anything that has drastically changed in your health. He holds your hand and wipes your tears since you always cry since you can barely sleep and your eyes are just so tired that you can’t anymore.
The scarce days that you can even sit up in your bed and gaze outside your window while looking at all the gift blades’ gotten you over the several months you’ve been unable to do anything. Yet now you're still weak and the quick recovery will change to worse in a couple of hours.
𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃
He’s sentimental with you, just watching your face contort into pain as a fit of terrible coughs leaves your throat leaving it burning more than before. It was a complete never-ending nightmare for you until you finally were to be freed when you took your final breath of air.
He tries to bring an upbeat attitude to you, listening to you with contempt about whatever you may be talking about, like your dreams, goals, and wishes; maybe a chance to see life outside of this miserable room–yet deep down no one thinks you will.
He loves to bring you sweets–you can’t eat because most of the time you're bedridden–and toys–you can't play with. It's the duty of the general to make sure every citizen is safe and you mean the same to him even if you are sick–and dying.
You’re his child that's all that matters to him. The fake people's pity along with the whispers and disgusting assumptions. He hates it, he hates what they say is the truth–Since in the end, you’re the one dying, right? So what’s wrong with saying what everyone knows is going to happen.
𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒
Everyone comes to Pencony to have fun and let their dreams become reality yet you’re the pitiful one who must be stuck in your room all day whilst Aventurine is out and about having “fun” you can't help but be a little envious of him,  yet you are love more than anything by and you’ll wait for his return as you’ve always have done.
Watching the lights from below your window along with the sounds of everyone having so much—you cut the sounds out since your body is a rotting corpse lying there.
But it’s not that bad!! Aventurine splurges on you whenever he can and wants!! Even if your room is filled with stuffed animals, util your room can’t handle all the stuffed animals, then he’ll get you a bigger room!! He just wants you to feel included in any way he can. Even playing board games with you, or even it’s patty cake.
Your dream is to be like other people. To be a “normal” kid since dreams will only ever be dreams and never be anything good for the hopeful.
𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎
You’re the child of the great oak family, a prized child even with ruined lungs, hoarse throat and weak rotting body, you’re still his child, the only reason he does the things he does is for your sake.
He always reads you bedtime stories no matter if it is the 100th time reading the same one or the first, your wish is his command. Even if it’s reading you a lullaby no matter how bashful and embarrassed he feels he’ll still do what ask just to see a bright smile on your face.
It’s okay, don’t cry, it's only just a couple of needles. The pain will go away in a second, you can handle it, right? That’s what he always tells you. Comforting you is the most important thing, you’re his everything, watching you cry or whimper at the face, needles, nightmares or anything else then he’ll do anything for you.
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if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!
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imaginaryf1shots · 8 hours
Text
Age | Lewis Hamilton
WC: 3.6K
Warning: Age Gap, cursing? kissing
Summery:(REQUESTED) When you fall for your boss who is much older than you.
Masterlist
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Getting with Lewis wasn't what you sat out to do, you started working for his LH team, managing their social media and content. They felt like a younger person would best suit the job, Lewis wasn't involved in hiring you. In fact you hadn't seen him until a few weeks after you were hired. When you were sent to film him for content to post on Instagram. Lewis is a very nice man, it's a well known fact. Everyone that has ever
worked with him would tell you this(just don't ask Nico).
You haven't always been drawn to older men; you don't think about age that much. As long as you're both legal and mature, why not? But it wasn't like a kink or a plus in your books. Lewis just drew you in. Maybe it was his confidence, his maturity, or something completely different that captivated you. What you know for sure is that Lewis had your attention the moment you met and talked; there was no denying it. The pull you had, how easy it was for you to talk and have a laugh, was undeniable. Your relationship started professionally, but the more you met, the more you talked, and the more you got to know each other, the closer you got. And when you exchanged personal phone numbers, it was game over. You were calling each other all the time, texting, and FaceTiming. You hadn't reached the point of meeting when there was no reason to. But then Lewis had you travel with him under the guise of needing content, even though Mercedes had its own media managers.
You were denying your feelings. Lewis is an older, more experienced man, and he could have any woman he wants, why would he care or be interested in you, you found no reason for it. All the calls and texting you just convinced yourself is him being nice. Maybe he sees you as a mentee and nothing else.
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You were at a hotel room in New York, Lewis had a shoot for one sponsor or the other plus a fashion event to attend. The sponsor stuff was already filmed and done the day before, so that was that. Meaning you'd only photograph Lewis with his outfit to the event and your day of work would be done. Your room was booked in the same hotel as Lewis, definitelydefiantly not as lush as his but it was a five star hotel, your room was amazing. You were lounging a bit in your room until you receive a call that Lewis was
done changing. You hear a knock on the door, you haven't ordered room service, so it came as a surprise.
Getting up from your comfy position on the bed, you open the door to see one of the hotel staff standing in front of you with a clothes bag in hand.
"Hi? How can I help you?" You ask the man, who had a polite smile on his face.
"I was asked to bring this to you." The man tries to hand you the bag but you step back.
"Are you sure you got the right room?" You're certain there must be a mistake why would you be sent a clothes bag
"You're Ms. y/n y/n, right?" You nod with a small yes. The man then smiled bigger and handedhands you the bag again. "Then this is for you."
You hesitate before taking the bag, thanking the man and then closing the door. You open the bag and a dress that is more expensive than anything you own is there waiting for you. Your mouth drops, the dress is stunning, you don't know the brand but it lookslooked amazing. After the shock of seeing the dress wore off you lay it on the bed and find your phone, pressing Lewis's name in the recently calls and press the phone to your ear
"Hello"
"Don't hello me." You say looking at the dress as if it just called you cheap in every language on earth, your tone is not happy and Lewis picks up on it instantly
"What's wrong, love? What did I do?" Lewis has an inkling why you're not happy with him and he's trying not to smile, but he's failing miserably
"You just sent me a dress, for some unknown reason, and I bet it cost an arm and a leg!" You exclaim and Lewis could imagine you pouting as you talk, he lets out a small giggle.
"Look it's from one of my favourite up and coming designers and I saw the design and I instantly thought of you." Lewis defends himself, it's the same designer that designed his clothes for the day.
"So you bought it for me?" You ask in disbelief.
"Yeah." Lewis replied as if it's the most normal thing ever
"Lewis!"
"Yes, baby girl." You instantly stop when you hear the new pet name, Lewis calls you love a lot but that's just because he's British. But this, this new, it got you blushing and struggling to say anything, you're feeling shy and speechless. Damn that man, he knew what he was doing "Seeing as you're not saying anything, I expect to see you in that dress when you come up, also I'll be done in 15 minutes or so."
Lewis hangs up and you're left there staring at the dress, before you sigh. Thankfully you showered this morning, so you just started on your make-up a simple look that will complement the dress nicely, and do your hair. It's more than 15 minutes, but you haven't gotten a call from Lewis or anyone else in the team. Once you're finished and with small heels on you're making your way up to Lewis's suite.
It doesn't take long before the door opens by the designer, she gasps looking at you and grins
"You look stunning" You blush at the praise and walk in
"It's all thanks to you." You wave her compliment off.
"Thanks, but it's the person in the clothes that brings out the beauty of the designs." She tells you and you can't fight the redness in your cheeks. "Lewis is in there."
You go to the room she's pointing at, you're holding your camera equipment bag in your hand. You walk in and see Lewis standing in front of the mirror, inspecting everything about his look. He doesn't look up when you walk in, so you take the moment to take him in, the see-through shirt allows you to see the faint outline of his abs and muscles, his tattoos on show.
Lewis feels your presence, he looks at you and you don't realise it so caught up in checking him out. Happy with himself he takes a moment to look at you, and you're stunning, the dress fits you like a glove, tight in the right places and loose in the right places. He's never seen you so dressed up. Lewis is out of his trace before you are. He clears his throat and your eyes snap to his
All you see in his eyes is amusement, the blush comes back to your cheeks but you ignore it and him and take out your camera.
"You're done right?" You ask him busying yourself. You already know where you want to take the photos, where the best lighting is for everything
"You look stunning, love." Lewis's words once more stun you, and you pause in your actions before you look up at him once more, meeting his coffee coloured eyes.
"It's not practical." You say and stand straight your free hand runs over the dress to smooth out any wrinkles, suddenly feeling insecure. Lewis is always having women thrown at him, models and beauty queens, all stunning, and here you are, just him social media manager/photographer
"It's not meant to be practical, besides after the photos, you're off for the night, and you're coming as my plus one." Lewis states and your eyes go wide
"W-What? No, Lewis I can't go as your plus one." You tell him with a shake to your head.
"Why not?" He asked, crossing his arms.
"Because... I just can't, H-I don't want to." You mumble, looking at the floor not meeting his eyes.
"You don't have to walk the carpet with me, just go inside and join me there." Lewis doesn't want to take it personally, he knows being seen with him comes with a lot of packages and you're not even dating yet.
"Okay, yeah, I can do that." You say and look at him and swallow, Lewis had a smile on his face, as his eyes held you in. You cough and wave your camera. "Let's take some photos now.”
Lewis knows how to pose and it doesn't take long before you have the shots you're both happy with, before Lewis leads you to the mirror with his phone in hand.
"Come on, one of us together." Lewis's smile makes it hard for you to refuse, his arm wraps around you pulling you close to his side, you gasp and his quick movement your hand falls onto his chest to stabilise yourself. You look up, and his face is so close to yours, he's facing the mirror, and clicks his phone to capture the look on your face as you look up at him, Licking your lips slightly you face the mirror and
smile, ignoring your fast beating heart, it's so fast Lewis must feel it. You both pose for a few more, all with Lewis's hand one you one way or the other.
The car ride is filled with small talk, as Lewis and the designer talk, they'll walk the red carpet and you'll be dropped at another entrance. You're sitting between Lewis and the designer. You pull at your cuticles an anxious tic you have when you're anxious. Lewis doesn't look at you, before he takes your hand in his. Your heart skips a beat. Lewis only lets go when you arrive, both their doors are open, and before he lets go of your hand he gives it a squeeze and he gets out
Your seat is next to the designer close to where Lewis is sitting, they have all the A-listers sitting next to each other. But Lewis does come to talk to you before the show begins, and makes sure you're okay. But you only get talking after the show. Where the music is playing, people are dancing and the drinks are flowing at the open bar
"Your first show, what do you think?" Lewis asks you, you're both deciding not to drink since you have flights tomorrow.
"It was great." You reply with a smile. "It was so much fun... thank you."
"No worries, did you take any pictures?" Lewis asked and you shook your head no. "We can't have that, come on, I know a spot upstairs"
Lewis doesn't wait or hesitate, he takes your hand in his and leads you through the crowds, he helps you up the stairs like the gentleman he is. The place he takes you to is empty, the lighting is good and the music is faint. Lewis lets go of your hand and takes out his phone.
"Okay, Mr. photographer, where do you want me?" You tease him and move your arms shyly.
"Right here." Lewis moves you to where he wants and you pose, Lewis hypes you up. "You look great love, a little to the right, yes, now move your shoulder to the front, right there, wow, this one looks amazing, look at you posing."
For the next 15 minutes Lewis takes all sorts of photos, the last ones being a close up of your upper body and face. You don't look at the lens for those you look at him, and maybe that's why they're his favourite. You stand even closer to the older man as you look at the photos he took.
"Look at you go, if you even want to switch careers, photography will do you good." You smile and then look up at him, he's already looking at you and for the hundredth time today, your heart starts beating faster. He's so close to you, you can smell his cologne. Is he? Is he moving closer? Or is it just your mind playing tricks on you? You lick your lips and his eyes move from yours down to follow the movement.
You're already wearing heels, so you couldn't tip toe to close the distance, but you didn't have to, because Lewis leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as a shiver went down your spine. Lewis's lips moved against yours once, twice, thrice before he pulled back all too suddenly. The warmths that overwhelmed you is suddenly gone. Lewis’s hands are gone and he takes a step back, your eyes flutter open and all you see is regret. The insecurity is hitting you hard.
”W-w…”
”I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean to- I just- I’m sorry.” Lewis found himself unable to find the words, he has liked you for a long time, but here he is after kissing you suddenly doubting himself.
”No, no it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.” You say and look to the side, your hands wrapped around your middle, you swallow.
”No, I have to, I didn’t ask and I don’t know if you wanted me to kiss you and I just did.” Lewis says and you realise why he stopped, why he looked so regretful. He thought you didn’t like it, that he forced you, he thought you didn't like it. “I’m your boss, and I may have pressured you into it and I never wanted to do something like this, I completely understand if- why? Why are you smiling?”
”Oh Lewis Hamilton, the man you are.” Lewis is now left confused, you step closer to him, and Lewis stands still with his hands down by his sides, as you place your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles under your fingertips. “If you only knew how much you affect me, I just thought it was one-sided, that you see me as a child or something.”
”Believe me baby girl, I see you as the woman you are.” Lewis’s voice drops a few octaves that have you shivering. His hand makes the small of your back home, he pulls you closer so you’re flush against him, a gasp leaves your lips, and his hand moves down to the top of your butt.
”Lewis.” You breathe out, your eyes fluttering.
”Sweetheart.” Those fucking pet names will be the death of you, this time you pull him by the back of his neck down to meet your lips. The soft moanes leaving your lips leave him wanting for more.
You don't know how long you stood there for but by the time you were done with the little make out session you both had to fix your lipstick. The lavish bathroom you both stand in front of the mirror, trying to wipe the lipstick. Exchanging smiles and giggles through the mirror, pumping hips and kisses.
”Lewis stop, we can’t kiss, I have lipstick on.” You say giggling halfheartedly pushing him away.
”Once I got a taste I couldn’t resist.” You blush and tell him to stop once more, before you both leave the bathroom. Going back to the event downstairs you both act as if nothing appended, and somehow you sell it.
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Safe to say, you’re stuck to each other’s side. Lewis flies you everywhere and your relationship turns from professional to romantic slowly in front of the others, but to you two, after that night in New York you were dating.
You dreaded the time the media will find out, you know there’s two ways it will go, either they will go after Lewis or they will go after you. And you think they’ll go after you. Your appearance in the paddock was nothing new, but your appearance at dinners with other drivers and wags was new. No one said anything or commented, you got on super well with the wags. You did share your fears with Kika and Alex, they gave you as much advice as they could and told you what to expect. It’s always hard when a driver hard launches or even is just rumoured to be with someone.
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You and Lewis didn’t get the chance to hard launch or soft launch, or do any of that sorts. A paparazzi somehow found you while you were on vacation and snapped a lot of pictures of the two of you in intimate positions. Kissing, cuddling, hands all over each other, there was no way of getting out of that one.
So during the next race Lewis walked into the paddock with your hand in his, the fans weren’t 100% who you were when the photos were leaked, but the moment you walked in all your social media was out for everyone to see. The things you were both scared of the most, happened. The fans weren’t happy with the age gap, you were both adults but it seemed like everyone knew why you were dating but you too. And that Lewis is just too nice to know that you’re with him for money. The almost 40 year old didn’t know any better. Like a lot of wags you received a lot of hate, and Lewis hadn’t confirmed a relationship in years, so you were an awaited wag.
You both expected all of this, what you didn’t expect is for every driver that interacted with Lewis to have their social media flooded with messages and comments of people telling them to tell Lewis that you were using him, and that the age gap is disgusting.
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Lando was streaming once and he was talking about Mercedes or something when the chat took that turn.
”Come on chat, don’t be mean.” Lando said after he noticed all those comments. “You don’t know y/n and Lewis, they’re perfectly happy and there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s all just care about ourselves.”
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Lily and Alex were live on Instagram for one reason or the other and they also got a ton of comments, especially since Lilly was seen hanging out with you a Friday of a race weekend.
“Believe me guys, y/n, is the nicest person ever, she’s so understanding and sweet.” Lilly said to the viewers, after seeing where the comments turned to.
”We’ve actually gone out with them a few times, and they look happy and in love.” Alex added.
”I haven’t been around LEwis much, but I feel like he looks… happier and more content?” Lily said and looked at her boyfriend.
”Yeah, I think George said as well, he looks happy and that this relationship is doing them both a lot of good.” Alex said and Lily nodded with him. “It’s good when you get into a relationship and you become better and happier.”
”Yeah.”
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Things like that kept happening, and there were some videos of you and Lewis posted online just being lost in each other while dancing, having dinner or even just walking. The way you’d give each other all the attention when you’re talking is something admirable.
All those things online, affected you, you hated how negative your space online became, how much it became on Lewis’s accounts, and on the other drivers’ accounts as well. What it didn’t affect is your relationship with Lewis.
Lewis wasn’t happy, of course he wasn’t. You’re his girlfriend and his ‘fans’ are attacking you online, he can see how your smile never reached your eyes when you said you were okay. It affected you to some degree.
So he just hugged you tighter, told you he loved you more, and tried everything to keep you away from all that talk.
“What are you doing?” You mumble as you wake up from your slumber, you went back to the hotel after FP2, feeling tired, and Lewis having to stay back for a long meeting. It was almost midnight when he made it back to the room and found you sleeping in the middle of the bed. Lewis stripped to his boxers and slipped beside you. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, this roused you from your sleep.
”Just want to hold you.” He said softly and kissed your cheek, you smiled and cracked your eyes open just a little, you turned around so you’re facing him. You cuddle more into him, nuzzling your face in his neck, as he laid on his back.
”How was the meeting?” You asked barely coherent, and Lewis knows you’ll ask again in the morning, that everything that will come out of your mouth right now is just your subconscious and that you will remember nothing.
”It was good, there’s going to be a few changes to the car tomorrow.” Lewis told you rubbing your back.
”Do we like it?” You ask, knowing that your stance on things is his stance on things, when it comes to driving and cars.
”Yeah, but we’ll see tomorrow.”
”Hmm, that’s good.” You fall silent and Lewis thinks you fell asleep before you say a barely audible. “I love you.”
”I love you too, baby girl.”
It took time, but the public came to accept the fact you’re here to stay and you’re not just using him for a week or two, for clout or anything of that sort. IT got better. But it never went away, and you don’t think it will. You don’t plan on breaking up with Lewis any time soon and you don’t think he will. And that’s all that mattered, you’re both happy and content with what you have.
Maintaglist:
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog
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Text
Cooper realizing he's falling in love with his companion would be so weird for both of them.
I imagine it would be a long, awkward, painful (at least for Coop) road dotted with increasingly significant gestures, increasingly intimate moments...but there would also have to be a sort of "healing" from the way things have been so far.
I mean, he's only stayed alive this long by being ruthless, selfish, doing whatever he needed to do to look out for number one. Falling in love with someone, caring about them, fucks that M.O. up pretty badly.
If he wants you to stick around, he has to show you he can treat you well. We know that he loves so passionately and deeply when he does, that he has the capacity for it. But, at the same time, it's so difficult for him to be vulnerable enough to show that kind of tenderness to someone again. He's confident in himself when it comes to most things, but this is fairly uncharted territory. He's not even sure he fully remembers how to romance a lady.
He never sleeps, so he always sits up keeping watch overnight. You wake up one morning to find that he's cleaned your guns, sharpened your knives while you slept. Soon, that becomes a regular occurrence. Another morning, after a particularly cool night in the desert, you find that his duster is draped over you. Low-pressure gestures like this, ones he can perform when you aren't watching, are the easiest for him at first. You always thank him for these things, but for a long while you fail to truly realize their significance. As far as you're concerned, he's just demonstrating that he finds you tolerable, which is better than he's acted towards you in the past. Maybe he's even apologizing for being shitty in his own way.
But slowly, the gestures start to happen in the light of day. He'll slow his pace to walk side-by-side with you, instead of leaving you struggling to keep up with his long strides. He lends you his hat when the scorching sun roasts your face, at least, until he finds another one for you. One day you come across an expanse you'll need to cross, but its up to your shins in disgusting muck and water. He offers to carry you across. You look at him like he has six heads, completely unsure if he's mocking you or not. You don't accept the offer...this time around.
If you're doing drugs together, he offers you the last hit, the last line, whatever. Funnily enough, this is what makes you start to realize that he may be trying to communicate something else; he's selfish about a lot of things, but his drug stash is undoubtedly the biggest. You were floored enough when he'd offered to share at all. When he makes that offer the first time, you look at him for what feels like a long while before you accept.
You also lean in and give him a kiss on his rough, pitted cheek when you take whatever it is from him, terrified that you're misreading the situation and he'll shove you away. But he doesn't; he smiles at you, a more genuine and relaxed smile than you think you've ever seen on him before. But then he looks away, almost shyly, and things are quiet again.
That night, you lay your head on his lap when he sits down beside you. He doesn't say anything, but as you're drifting off to sleep, you feel him start to play softly with your hair.
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theaceace · 2 days
Text
In the sandman comics, it's mentioned that every 100 years, Death takes a day to make herself mortal and experience what it's like to be alive, before dying at the end of the day, as a way of reminding herself what it's like to be on the other side of her function
And what if the boys happened to meet her on that day? They've only ever seen her from a distance while they were hiding, but they recognise her immediately and are sure that this is the end. They may have the Lost and Found Department's permission to stay on earth solving cases, but if Death herself says they have to go, then no-one's going to be able to stop her
But she doesn't. She doesn't try to take them, doesn't do anything except smile and give them a little wave from where she's sat in the park enjoying a coffee in the sun. Eventually, Charles storms over, ignoring Edwin's frantic protests, to demand what the hell she thinks she's playing at, taunting them like this
And I just want them to have the chance to meet Death, without any imminent threat (no matter what they think to start with) and let her talk to them. Because Death can be so, so kind in the Sandman universe and I think the boys know that. They've seen her come for enough ghosts over the years that they have to know that, and I want her to be able to hold their hands and say it's okay. You died, and it was terrible, but it's okay. You found each other, you're not alone. That's what she's there for, really, to make sure no one is alone at the end. Really, when you think about it, Edwin sort of did my job for me with you, Charles, she laughs at one point, and Edwin grips Charles' hand so tight the bones would creak, if they had bodies.
She asks them about their cases, because of course she knows what they've been up to, all this time. Life and Death can't exist without each other, so wherever you find one, you'll find the other. She's everywhere. Of course she knew. So slowly they start to open up, and they tell her about the case they're working at the moment, and how they're actually just waiting for Crystal and Jenny to finish speaking to a human witness. Death tells them a little about how she's planning to spend her day as a human (visit a museum, see a play, and a few drinks down the pub with an old friend in the evening) and finally says goodbye when Crystal and Jenny get back
And this is so, so crucial - Jenny throws up her hands as they walk over like 'who the fuck was that?? Did you manage to find another psychic in the ten minutes we were gone??' and Edwin (apparently) absent-mindedly is just like 'hm? Oh, no, that was Death' before they both walk off and leave the girls with that
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goteique · 1 day
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are we still friends? + (ren kaji, hayate suo, umemiye hajime, sakura haruka)
cws. | gn!reader, headcanon + scenarios format, sorta character study, fluff, angst, comfort. | redirect to blog navigation.
syn. | How do they react to confession when the feelings are mutual?
notes. | Will there be part two? who knows? but for now please have these. I forgot how to write smut so I'm writing fluff. 
☆ Ren Kaji: Ren does not like talking or listening so he pretends that he can not hear and with his headphones on it's easier to convince but when you specifically ask him to take it off so that you could talk it annoys him. He rarely takes his headphones off since it was a gift from someone. So all he does is to take the lollipop out of his mouth and say, "You can talk. I am not listening to anything," It really irritates you but you do not wish to act on it right now. He has started to grow a little too comfortable with your presence around him and maybe. . .just maybe it's time to create a ripple in his stagnant heart. At the rooftop of the school, where gentle breeze and sunlight prevails you say you like him and watch his eyes go bigger. He takes off his headphones with utmost haste demanding, "Say that again," but now it is your turn to annoy him. All your comebacks are full of: "no." , "Did you not listen when i said once?" , "This is why i told you to take your headphones off," and so on. You are so engrossed in conversing with him that you fail to notice his swift motion of leaning and planting a kiss on your cheek. Your lips cease to move for a while yet it is ever so quick and swift that it happens within a blink of your eyes. "Okay, I'll say it for you then," Ren says. Gulping and continuing, "Y/n likes Ren Kaji. and I like you too." in one breath and just vanishes out of your sight. The next few days he is spotted sleeping at unusual times because he has spent sleepless nights regretting why he did not take his headphones off.
★ Hayate Suo: Suo has known for a while that you like him. Well, he is not too sure but he always had a pretty good idea when it comes to emotions. He has probably known even before you that you could harbor feelings for him so when he hears the rumors from other students he does not react much except with some snarky comments to shut those rumors with his sickly sweet saccharine smile. But hearing it from you, at some secluded place near the bike stand of the school is certainly is out of the syllabus for him. At first, he does not know what to say, what to do, or how to react but when your eyes slowly look up to meet him the first thing he thinks if you did it because of rumors or some sort of dare. If so, then both are wrong. He thinks confession should come when it's time not when it is influenced by others. So, all he says is: "I know." eyes blinking a little too much, unable to consider you as his focal point. " I've known for a while." And then, he asks for some time to think about it which is unexpected because from what you have heard he has rejected every other proposal that came his way. You came prepared to be rejected when you decided to confess but this goes out of the syllabus for you too. So, you end up thinking if this is his new way of tormenting people who like him but he really needs time to properly think because he thought there is no way he thought you would like him back. He does not want to hurt you. That goes against his morals. He could feel his cheeks being warm, ears too, palms tucked behind his back cold, and rapid heart rate. "So, this is how it feels to be confessed."
☆ Umemiya Hajime: Being an older brother to everyone has never been a bother until he developed a gut wrenching crush on you or that is how he would like to put it. Not only that, you have developed quite a friendship with Kotoha ever since you started helping her out in her resturant. You are probabaly same age as her which makes things a little more complicated. Was it not enough that you might be under the impression that Kotoha is his girlfriend? Like most other people; But thanks to Sakura for clearing that confusion up. Still. . .still he feels his heart twist whenever he visits the resturant. All he does is to silently watch you. He could have easily creeped you out if you had not developed a crush on him. When Umemiya's visits became you became a little bold, like talking to him, asking about his day, exchanging numbers but never have been alone with him. He always comes with his band of boys. It denifitely nice to hear him laugh, talk and sometimes steal sneaky glances but it does not help with the wave of emotions he makes you feel. So, one day when the door bell chimed and as usual you said, "Welcome" looking in the direction of entrance ceasing your chores all you could do is stare for a moment since the customer is none other than Umemiya Hajime and he is all alone. So, you repeat again, "Welcome Umemiya-san." tearing your gaze away from him. "Kotoha is busy. Should I let her know that - he cuts you off with," i'm not here for her today." sipping water ever so slowly from the glass you just served on the coaster. Is he nuts? is he really doing this? Right now? why is he not freaking out? or maybe he is, internally, just like you. "I'm here for you today." And, when he confirms you turn around to get a proper look. 
"I see," you say.
"You didn't answer my call so i had to come here," Umemiya remarks. 
"so, you are here to scold me?" Umemiya's heart drops in some bottomless pit. He did not mean it to come out this harshly. He is just tensed, especilly after how you texted last night : "I like you Umemiya-san." 
"did you check your phone after last night?" and to that you just nod. You do not want to and who honestly would after confessing to the brightest star. You are so out of league from him. Umemiya smiles. "I see," he speak softly. He gets up and then he is about to leave but just before exting the door he says, "Please, check you phone."
★ Sakura Haruka: Sakura has a habit of talking, and going on and on about it unless someone interrupts. If possible, he would talk in one breath. So, when you say that you like him he dismisses it as a joke. "quit kidding. Nobody likes me. y'know that. . ." And there goes your probably hundred-and-fifth confession. He never takes it seriously no matter how serious you try to be Sakura manages to bungle up your intentions so quick yet you can not seem to blame him. If anything he is too honest, so often he comes as rude and obnoxious but his intentions are so pure that sometimes it makes you think can a person be this stupid? But this time when you confessed you thought this would go in the usual direction; him dismissing it as a joke but this time when he looks at you he is faced with something new, something he is not good at handling. "you. . . are you crying?" And it dawns on you how heavy your heart has become with his oblivious nature. all those "I like you-s." never reached his heart, only his head. You quickly wipe away your tears and try to cover it up with the most brilliant lie ever to exist. "It's just dirt." given his oblivious nature he is supposed to buy but he is asking questions again. "You. . . all these time. . . were serious?" Yes, you absolute dimwit. You can not even nod to confirm his thinking. You swallow hard trembling lips parting to speak and you are met with his chest with his arms wrapped around you. " I-I ... was told that if you like someone...you can hug them... y'know when they ...say they ...like you," he starts to stammer and it creates a swarm of laughter arises from your stomach. "Whoever told you that must know a lot about dating," you say having a fair idea who it might be.
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fieldofdaisiies · 3 days
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Whisper of the Forgotten | pt. 8
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pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | warnings: none | masterlist
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Azriel doesn’t say anything for a long moment. For so long, it makes you wonder if he will ever give you an answer. You watch how his throat bobs when he swallows, his eyes closing. You watch his chest lift with deep inhales. 
“I am aware that this is exactly what I deserve for hurting you so much.”
Your eyes close, the back of your mouth aching. 
“I broke the bond without even knowing it. I ruined the one thing I had been hoping for for so long, and I lost the person I loved most through my actions.”
He falls silent after this, and you can visibly make out how his heart breaks even more, cracks open completely and tears dwell in his eyes. Hd is a broken male, that is for sure, the actions of his past haunting him just like what has been done to him in his childhood.
“It is still there,” you find yourself saying after a moment of dense quietness. You can’t stand it anymore. “The bond has not completely vanished, I can still feel the pull.”
You find it hard to look at him, not wanting to see his expression, how torn he looks, how much this revelation broke him. 
Azriel slowly starts to shake his head, his hand sliding over his chest, right above his heart, then he drops it. 
“You can reject it.” Azriel’s voice is thick with emotion. “I want you to reject it. I can’t bind you to me, Y/N. I can’t force you to be bound to the person that hurt you so much, to make you stay with me–”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Azriel.” Now you lift your chin and meet his gaze. “This is my decision, and if I want to give it a chance, us a chance, again…” Your voice breaks the moment a sob crashes into it, and you start to cry again, lowering your face to your arm, crying silent tears into your skin. “Forgiveness is so hard, forgetting even harder and I know that I will never manage to do the latter, but I want to give us time. I want to give us a chance, to get to know each other again and to find forgiveness.”
You wipe your tears away on your arm, pushing up on your elbow so you can look at him. “I now know your reasons and even though they don’t remove the trauma or the pain they caused me. But I now at least have answers to my century-long questions – to why you hurt me, why you had to do everything you did.”
“I was the biggest asshole to not tell you earlier, to not come to the Prison and just explain. I was a coward.”
“You were,” you honestly answer, but your eyes close. “But I also know that I probably wouldn’t have listened. I would have been too wrapped up in my anger and hurt to listen or understand.”
Azriel’s eyes close again. “I was still a coward, a massive asshole, and don’t deserve you.”
“This is not about deserving each other, Azriel,” you softly whisper. “This is about healing, growth and moving on, about learning to forgive.”
You pause, trying to calm your heart that starts to beat a little faster with deep breaths. “I am not sure if I can ever forgive you, Azriel. If my heart will ever allow me to do so, but I am glad we talked. It was important for us to do so.”
“It was,” Azriel agrees, voice tinged with sadness. He tips his head back and looks at the ceiling. You follow his line of sight, only staring into the darkness and his shadows floating atop both of you. 
“What were you afraid to find?” 
Azriel is calm, then turns his head again, looking at you. You feel his gaze, sharp and piercing. “I don’t understand.”
“You said you were afraid to go see me, that you were a coward. What were you afraid of to find?”
A cold huff leaves him and then he brings his hand up, wiping it down his face. “I was afraid to find exactly what I saw in your eyes when I opened the cell door - hurt and betrayal. I hurt you so much, and I knew I would find it in those eyes that I once fell in love with.” He swallows thickly. “But I was also afraid I would be at a loss of words. That I would never be able to find the right words to talk to you. I betrayed you, hurt you so much and I knew you would never forgive me.”
You hum in understanding. 
“We needed you for help, but it was the perfect reason for me to get you out. I was forced to do so, forced to no longer be such a fucking coward. I had to go, and I wanted nothing more than to do it. There was no way back anymore. I was forced to go, and finally grew some balls to do so.” He shakes his head. “I knew what I would find there. I knew you would hate me, but I knew it was finally time for us to meet again. I had the Harp and I couldn’t wait any longer. There was a way to free you, a chance I had to take and finally could do so.”
You loose a long breath and close your eyes. You shift a little on the bed, then turn to your side and rest your head on the pillow. “I will stay here tonight if that is alright.”
You need to seal your broken heart, comfort your soul, and even if there might be no future for the two of you, this is one step into the right direction of healing.
“Always,” Azriel whispers, and you feel the bed dip, and him move. Carefully, he is tugging his blanket over you, he is still lying atop. “You want me to move to the couch.”
“No, it’s alright.” You are tired, exhausted, the conversation and the day has drained you. You only want to sleep, exhaustion nearing in waves that slowly start to drown you. Your lids are so heavy, you can’t force them open any longer. You only want to sleep. 
You tug at the blanket, signalling Azriel to slide beneath it. His closeness used to worry you, not that much anymore, knowing he won’t hurt you here. Won’t hurt you again, now that you have seen his remorse, scented his regret. 
It will be alright, you know it. 
He follows your request, and then lies down beside you, not touching you. Moments pass, moments full of deafening silence where you, despite your tiredness, can’t fall asleep. His presence doesn’t irritate you, he closeness doesn’t bother you (anymore) but it still feel strange lying here with him. Sleeping in the same bed as him after centuries of distance.
“Did you plan on how you would kill me once you get free?” Azriel then whispers and you feel something stroke over your exposed shoulder. It isn’t Azriel, but rather his shadows.
A huff leaves you. “Every day and in very much detail how I would go about it.” 
He doesn’t smile in response, he only looks at you, watches you closely until he says, “I thought so.”
You don’t answer him, only curl your fingers around the blanket, hoping to just drift off into a dreamless sleep. But Azriel has different plans. He shifts on the bed, somehow uncomfortable, and then says into the darkness. 
“I wasn’t only scared of what I would find, I was also ashamed.” He clears his throat. “I couldn’t look you in the eyes, I couldn’t even look myself in the eyes nor my brothers. I had no idea how to tell anyone, how to explain what I had done. I was a fucking coward and ashamed of the measures I took.”
“You were scared, Azriel,” you whisper. “And fear lets us do unspeakable things.”
Night and sleep falls upon you a moment after, a light comfort hovering above your hearts that makes you eventually fall asleep.
───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────
You slip out of his room before Azriel or anyone else in the House of Wind wakes up. You don’t want to face Azriel, not in the mood to talk to him and unsure of what to say to him. 
In addition, you also don’t want to face Nesta or Cassian, not wanting to have to explain to them that you just talked and nothing happened. They would probably read more into it, and maybe even find hope. Hope you don’t want to give them.
Once back in your room, you take a long moment to think, sitting down on your windowsill, leaning your forehead against the cool window, staring outside, over the still dark city, slowly waking up. 
Many thoughts cloud your mind, and despite Azriel always being in the foreground, you know that opening the box, defeating Koschei and getting your powers back is more important. You need your amulet back and you would go through hell for it. You will demand it back that day, that is clear. They have to give it to you. Then you will open the box and form a plan on how to go forward. How you will fight against Koschei, who you have to ready. And how you can start a new life in the place you were born. 
You have often found yourself wondering what the Middle has turned into, what it looks like now, after centuries. You can’t wait to go back there. You haved lived there for a long time before the Wilde Hunt led you north and you ended up in the Night Court.
The Wild Hunt.
It has been on your mind a lot lately. They…have been. You could rally them again, reform your group, lead them, maybe alongside the Valkyries…and fight alongside them, once again reunited, as one.
───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────
“So, using this spell we can open it. Our hands need to be connected, Nesta, in the other hand you will be holding Ataraxia.” You pause so they can all process the information you have just provided them with. 
Azriel said nothing to you, nor to Cassian or Nesta when he entered the kitchen in the morning. He only looked at you, then dipped his chin and smiled slightly. You returned this gesture. 
You also haven’t spoken during breakfast, and not until you found yourself gathered around the desk in Rhysand’s office. 
“But I need my amulet back for this. I need my powers.” You lift your gaze and look at Rhys first, then at Azriel. “I want it back now. I have proven my loyalty, I agreed to help you and you should know by now that I won’t harm you. It is the least you could do.”
“How do we know you won’t just run off? Or blow everything up the moment—”
Your palm slams down on the wooden table, making it groan with the impact of your loud slap. “Because I have proven my loyalty!” you growl and spin around to Amren. “Why should I do that? Do you also deem me such a cruel, sadistic monster that everyone thinks I am?” 
You walk up to her until you are in her face. “You have been in Prison as well and yet they trust. What if you go berserk in this city?”
“Give her the amulet back, Rhys!“ Amren snaps and steps backwards.
But the High Lord hesitates. 
“No, Rhys. She is right. And she has a right to her possessions.”
Slowly, Rhysand nods and then tips his head at Azriel, momentarily holding eye-contact with the shadowsinger and you know he is talking to him mind-to-mind. The shadowsinger bows his head in return and walks backwards a few steps before slipping out of the room.
Your gaze has been locked on him the whole time. And now that he is gone and you know you will get your amulet back, your heart is beating in your throat, anticipation rising. Your heirloom will finally be yours again, and your powers will return in full force. You need your amulet to channel them, it is similar to the siphons the Illyrians wear.
You feels how your palms turn a little clammy, and inhale a few deep breaths, hoping to calm yourself as much as needed. But the idea of finally being fully yourself again, excites you too much for that to be possible.
“Why do you need Nes for that? Can’t you do it alone?” Cassian‘s low rumble disturbs your day-dreaming about your powers and you whip your head into his direction. 
“Because your mate has more power blazing through her veins than you could ever imagine, Cassian.” You smile at the female in question and then turn back to her mate. “And exactly that sort of power in connection with her sword is needed. I need someone that powerful on my side to fulfill—”
“Rhys is the most powerful High Lord,” Cassian cuts in, and you laugh.
“He might be. But his power is useless here. A different kind of power is needed, one that can only be found in people like us.” You tip your chin at Nesta and then at Amren. “Like calls to like, and that is why we need to combine our strengths.”
Cassian huffs, but a bright smile lights up the Valkyrie‘s face, a hint of pride shimmering in her eyes and when she meets her mate’s gaze, his eyes take on a similar glow.
You want to add that he should indeed be proud, but you get no chance to do so. Azriel returns right in this moment, the amulet dangling from his scarred hand. 
You watch how his chest heaves with a deep intake of air. Then he moves closer. “Do you want someone else to put it back on?”
You give your head a shake and then huff. “You were the one to take it off, Azriel, you need to put it back on.” You hold his gaze as he moves closer, step by step.
You can see the whirlwind in his eyes, and how hard he is clenching his jaw. “Can you lift your—nevermind, please turn around.”
You are sure the room is holding its breath just like every person within it, you included. His scarred fingertips touch your shoulders first, brushing away your hair. “Can you lift them up please?”
You do as told and slowly, his hands reach around you. The amulet is cool at first but once it is flush with your skin it starts to buzz, humming with power. Your face lights up, and vibrations flow through your veins, making your fingertips feel tingly — the amulet is back and your powers have reached it peeked again. Of course, you need to train to be able to really use them again but the first step is accomplished.
Azriel’s hands are still on you when you turn back to him and lovk eyes with him again. 
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“Not for that,” he mumbles. “Don’t thank me for returning what always belonged to you.” His hand lifts and he brushes his hand over your head. “You look beautiful.”
Your breath catches and yoh know that despite hating it and trying so hard to fight against it, your love for him is starting to burn again, and forgiveness is truly an option already.
You don’t want to let this happen. Can’t let it happen. Not yet at least. 
You quickly step back. “Let’s open that damn box, shall we?”
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suguann · 6 hours
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an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two
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It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 
Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 
It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.
As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.
Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 
He never claimed to be a good man. 
(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)
Just an honest one.
So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.
Rinse and repeat. 
The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.
You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.
He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 
Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.
Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”
A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”
“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 
“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”
You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.
“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.
It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.
(A mindfuck is what it is.)
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digital-domain · 24 hours
Text
Purpose
Alastor x Reader // word count 3.4k
You can have you soul back, if you wish. But really…why would you even want something like that?
Tags/warnings: yandere, manipulation, power imbalance, angsty as hell, Alastor owns reader’s soul, reference to Alastor destroying other souls, shadows being far too tangible for comfort
A/N: This was supposed to be a short, simple little thing in my notes app. It did not stay that way for long. I swear I’ll write for someone else after this one (this might be a lie, haven’t decided yet)
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You can’t believe that you asked. It was a sort of trance that brought you here, that forced your steps down the hallway, that raised your fist to his bedroom door - and it was your entire fist that knocked, not merely the knuckles of your hand. Like you were threatening to break the wood from its hinges if he didn’t answer. But he wasn’t angry when he let you inside. Only bemused. And even now that you’ve done it, now that you’ve somehow managed to get out the words that have been churning in your mind for months…his demeanor has barely shifted at all. Although of course, it could be an act. It’s still hard for you to tell.
“Is that truly what you desire, my dear?” Alastor’s smile, which you expected to fade somewhat, or at least twitch at the corners in a telltale sign of annoyance, is just as broad as it’s ever been. He towers over you, his hands folded behind his back. “Think carefully, now. It’s already rare for me to allow someone to escape - unheard of, in fact. But taking someone back would be even less likely, so if there’s any chance at all ”-
“I’m sure.” You set your jaw, and refuse to look down, even as the glow in his eyes becomes almost too bright to bear. Even as something stirs in the swamp behind him, threatening to draw your gaze away. “I want my soul. I’ll give you anything to have it back. I’ll”-
“No need to elaborate, darling.” He sounds calm, and just as surprising, he doesn’t sound like he’s lying. “I assure you, I have no interest in any offer you might have had planned. If you want your soul, you can have it.” 
You freeze, your mouth still ajar. It takes you a moment before you can speak again. “Really?”
“Really.” His head tilts slowly as you continue to process his words. “Does that surprise you?”
“Yes.” You’re deeply confused, in fact. You were expecting to have to haggle, if not to beg. You were certainly expecting him to be upset. It shouldn’t - it can’t - be this easy. 
“I give you my word. If you wish to leave, I’ll let you.” He pauses. “However. ”
This is a trick. It has to be. Your eyes dart around the room, as if a map to his true intentions might be lying somewhere nearby.
“It would be irresponsible of me not to help you consider your options. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret. So…tell me.” He sighs, and simply stares for a moment before brushing the tips of two fingers up the line of your jaw, from your ear to just below your mouth. “ If you were to go…” He taps the pads of his fingers gently against your cheek, and lets his hand fall to his side. “What, exactly, would you have to gain from such a thing?”
You blink, still reeling from his feather-light touch. This is not a question you expected to answer, and you stay quiet for a moment too long.
He leans over you, and lowers his face to your ear, as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I’ll tell you what I think. I don’t think you’ll like it very much…but then again, people never enjoy hearing the truth.” There’s a buzz of static, he disappears and reappears behind you, and you’re left too disoriented to respond. “I think you’d be quite miserable, if you went through with this impulsive little idea of yours.” 
It wasn’t impulsive. Saying it out loud was, without a doubt. But the idea itself has been there for a very long time. 
“Would you like to know why I think that?” 
“No.” You’re not sure, really, whether you’re responding to his words, or to the hand that has landed on your waist. “You’re wrong.” His grip tightens, tugging slightly on the fabric of your shirt, but there it is again - that odd, detached state of mind that you fall into when you need to do something, and quickly, before you think about it and lose your resolve. “I’ll be miserable if I stay. I’ve already been miserable for a long fucking time.” You uncurl the fist you didn’t realize you had clenched, bring your hand to his wrist, and tug it sharply away from your waist. You barely even register your surprise when he lets this happen. 
He reappears in front of you, and waits silently for you to continue. 
“I didn’t think it would be like this.” Your eyes wander to the desk against the wall, to the ledger that you know contains the list of souls under his command. He’s allowed you to witness what happens to the souls - to the people - that displease him, and on more than one occasion, he’s enlisted your help in cleaning up the mess. You always got the impression that he didn’t particularly need your assistance. That it was more about the fun of watching you squirm. “You’re not who I thought you were.”
“How interesting.” He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “I must be a better judge of character than you, then. Because you have never once surprised me.” Without warning, he takes your hand, tugs you close enough to put his other hand on the small of your back, and half-drags you to his desk chair, which he kicks around and deposits you into. 
You glare up at him, hands braced tightly against the armrests, but he only pulls his hands behind his back, and sighs.
“Well, my dear. I would have merely asked you to sit down - as one should do for someone who’s about to receive unfortunate news - but it seems that you’re in a rather oppositional mood. So.” He gestures in your direction, and something slithers over your waist, binding you to the back of his chair. 
Before this all began, you would have struggled. Now, you barely glance down. “Fuck you.”
“Shall I bind your tongue as well, darling?” A dark coil, made of the same unnaturally smooth, unfathomably black material as the first, curls up from behind you and begins to inch its way up your neck. “Or perhaps do away with it altogether?”
You press your lips together, and shake your head. 
“Hmm…if you’re sure.” The second coil retreats back into the shadows, and Alastor looks down at you with an expression far too appreciative for your comfort. “I do love a captive audience,” he muses. “But what I said before does still stand. If, at the end of this little talk, you still wish to leave, I’ll happily release you.” He gestures broadly with an open palm, as if presenting you with some fabulous gift, then quickly flips his hand and points at you, his finger perfectly still in midair. “But first things first. I asked you a question some time ago, and you would do well to answer it.” He stands perfectly straight, and once again interlocks his hands behind his back. “Take some time to gather your thoughts, if you must. I’m not going anywhere.”
You bite hard into the inside of your lip, and swallow your bloody saliva down with all the things you’d like to scream at him. Instead, you avert your eyes, and quietly repeat the question you’d been unable to answer the first time around. “What do I have to gain?”
“That is what I asked, my dear.” The tendril around your waist tightens slightly, as if to force an answer out of you.
“What do I have to lose? ” You keep your eyes fixed on the floor, and force the deepest breath you can manage in and out of your lungs. The air feels heavy and humid, and smells of long-rotten vegetation - or perhaps a half-destroyed carcass, decaying somewhere in the bayou. “When I did what I did…when I gave you my soul…I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought that if I did it, I’d feel safe enough, or - I don’t know - good enough, to make a life here. But I don’t have one outside of you.” You suck in a sharp breath, all too aware of how stilted your sentences are becoming as they pass over the growing lump in your throat. “I live here because of you. And I barely leave because of you. I don’t spend time with anyone else, because I never know when you’re going to show up, and I don’t want to make friends and then watch them get roped into whatever shit you make me do next - and I can’t sleep, because - because you’ve woken me up before, and when you do that”-
You trail off completely as you remember the last time he did this to you, the images in your head far too clear for something that happened in the dark, when you were only half awake: Hand over your face in your dream, falling to touch your shoulder with just enough force to wake you and send you bolting upright. Rise and shine, darling. Smile somehow more vivid than the red eyes glowing above it, spreading wide with a manic delight that you knew was real, too real, and far too close. I’m going to pay someone a visit. They’re not aware of it yet, but I’m afraid it just couldn’t wait. Shadow, on the wall, one that shouldn’t have existed in such a dark room, blacker than you thought anything could ever be. It’s going to be a night to remember, my dear. I wouldn’t have you miss it for the world.  
You don’t want to picture what happened next. In your mind, you skip to when it was all over. When he took your hand, still shaking from the things you’d been forced to witness, and held it tight as he scratched that poor soul’s name out of his ledger. When he set down his pen, which was still dripping a dark red liquid that barely resembled ink at all, and began to turn the pages - you knew what he was looking for long before he found your name, written in impeccable cursive, glowing slightly as he guided you to touch it. I think it looks quite lovely in my hand. Whether he was talking about his handwriting, or about your face, which he’d reached up to touch in that moment, you do not wish to know. Don’t you agree?
Now, you shake your head, as if amending the answer you’d given him that night. You don’t like how you’ve conditioned yourself to say the things he wants to hear. To believe them when you say them. “I knew I’d have to do some things for you. But…” You swallow hard, because you can’t imagine he’ll have any sympathy for you if you cry, and you don’t want to find out. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I didn’t think that it would become my entire purpose.”
“Hmm.” His sigh is light and airy, with none of the weight that your words carried. When he does speak, the condescension is unmistakable. “Tell me, then.” He crouches down in front of you, leans forward, and rests his forearms on your thighs; his elbow digs hard into your leg as he raises his hand and props his face up on his fist. His grin still doesn’t waver, and his eyes appear wider from this angle, shining with something that is, perhaps, meant to resemble sympathy. “If you chose to leave…what would your purpose be then?” He tilts his head, until it’s his cheek resting against his fist, and waits.
And you are silent. Because somehow, in all your fantasies of escaping, you never managed to get to that part. The part where you lived your life, with no one to guide you but yourself.
You don’t know what you would do. But surely, surely, it would be better than this. 
He lowers his voice, and finally, you see his smile recede slightly. It becomes softer, and the glow in his eyes fades somewhat, and it’s all so unexpected that you don’t even question whether it’s real. “I know a lost soul when I see one, darling.” With his other hand, he lazily traces a path up and down your thigh. It would be almost soothing, you think, if it wasn’t him. “There’s a reason I wanted you. And a reason I keep you so close.” He sighs, and you can smell his breath, the hint of whiskey that doesn’t come close to masking the familiar rancid scent beneath. But there’s something sweet there, too. That’s new. “I think,” he murmurs, “that you have more to lose now than you ever did before.”
You try to tell yourself that you don’t want him to keep talking. That you want him to disappear now, and for good. But memories of your old life - your old after life, before he took over - are beginning to press their way forward. They make your stomach churn in a different way than any of his cruelty. 
“There’s also a reason - the same reason, in a way - that you were so easy to win over.” He opens his hand, and lets his cheek rest against his palm. There’s nothing dangerous about the way he’s looking at you now, or at least, nothing outwardly menacing, and you find yourself thinking about the night he approached you. Before anything about him seemed dangerous at all. When his appearance in your life seemed like a glorious stroke of luck.
“It was only easy because I didn’t know anything.” You’re disoriented, looking down at him, and it takes away whatever resolve you had left; your voice comes out quiet and hollow. “I hadn’t been here long. Everything about this place scared me. And I was alone…” You weren’t with anyone that night, but that’s not what you mean. Your chest seems to tighten as you remember those early days. The paranoia that haunted your every step, convincing you that something awful was about to step out of the shadows at any moment. The panic of not knowing how you fit into the world around you, and being sure that you would never truly know. The pure hopelessness of being consigned, for eternity, to the one place where no one in the world has ever wanted to go, and knowing that you could blame no one but yourself.
Alastor raises his head, slowly, and lets his hand drop gently against your thigh. “Well, my dear.” His palm touches first, and his fingers fall lightly, their touch barely perceptible at all until he presses them down in an almost-reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone anymore, are you?” 
“No." You barely even remembered how it felt, until this moment. To be lost. To have nothing, not even the nightmares of the present, to justify your existence. You didn’t think about it.
You didn’t let yourself think about it. Because thinking about it would mean -
“That’s right. You’ll never be alone again, if you don’t wish to be.”
It’s fake, this comfort. Always has been. But you can’t ignore it, now - the way you want to believe it. If it wasn’t from him, you’d have nothing to comfort you at all. You find your mind wandering to your name in his hand, glowing in his book, and wonder if anyone else will ever think of you enough to write it down.
“As for fear… ” His voice is so soft, now, that you feel the need to quiet your breathing. To inhale slowly, between words, and exhale carefully, lest he pause at a hitch in your breath. “What do you fear most, at this moment?” 
Again, you are silent. This time, it’s not because you don’t have an answer. It’s because the one you have seems far too dangerous to say out loud. 
If you leave, and things are exactly how they were before…or worse…
“Uncertainty is a terrible thing, isn’t it?” He pauses, and glances to the side for a moment before speaking, his gaze snapping back into place so quickly that you barely catch its shift. “I’ll gladly admit to planting the thought in your head. My having done so doesn’t make the idea any less real.”
The tendril binding you to your chair disappears. It takes you a moment to notice the absence of pressure on your abdomen. Even then, you do not move. You keep yourself in place, sitting perfectly straight, because you don’t know what will happen if you don’t. 
You stay exactly where you are, even as he rises to his feet and turns to the side, leaving you a clear path to the door. You watch, motionless, as an arm made of shadow extends along the wall and wraps its long, distorted fingers over the doorknob. 
“Walk away from me now, if you wish. You have my word that your soul will depart along with the rest of you.” The door creaks open, in time with the parting of his teeth, and the appearance of his staff in his hand. Its head pulses with a faint green light. You stare into it, and wonder if it’s your soul that you see flickering in its midst. 
“And if I don’t?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the gap between the door and its frame narrow slightly. And again, slightly more.
“To be entirely honest… I can’t imagine that I’ll ever feel inclined to give you another chance.” The light on his staff grows larger and brighter, and shifts towards you, as if daring you to pull it out. “On the other hand…” He leans forward, and tilts his head, his spine contorting with the sideways motion until his mouth is directly beside your ear. “If you do leave, that door will close behind you. And it will never open for you again.”
The green light ebbs, just a bit, and you think about the first time you saw it. That night was cold, and damp, the kind of weather that eats away at you slowly, sinking its way under your clothes and skin bit by bit, until you can’t even remember a time when you were warm. The kind of weather that seems to suck the color out from around you, leaving you stranded in a world of gray and black and muddy, desolate brown. The place inside you where you imagine your soul once resided felt heavy, just as waterlogged as every other bit of you. 
And it seemed to lighten the moment you shook his hand. The moment you traded…
It was more than your soul, you think. It was the things you feared. The things you despised in the world, and yourself. They’re all gone, now, because now, there is only one face that makes you feel these things. It’s better like this, you think. 
It’s soon to be out of your hands, either way.
The door eases shut, and you close your eyes, because you do not want to see the green light fade. It’s better not to see. Better to pretend that it was never there at all.
“Well done, my dear.” The filter has dropped from his voice. It was there, distorting his every word, until now. But why say anything about that? You keep your eyes closed, and sit still as he traces the back of his hand down the side of your face. Thinking about flinching away, but doing nothing at all.
“Stay for as long as you’d like.” He sounds different, still. Not sincere, perhaps, but closer to it than he was before. “You’ve gone through quite a lot tonight. I expect it will take you some time to feel like yourself again.” He takes a step back, but remains close, and you don’t have to look to know how intently he’s watching.
There is not much left to watch. You slide your hands down from the armrest, and clasp them together, eyes still shut tight. Head down. If you stayed in this room until you felt like yourself, you think, you’d never leave.
Then again - if you wanted to feel like yourself, you would already have left.
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inchidentally · 24 hours
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Okay so I was thinking about why Oscar didn’t go and congratulate Lando right after his win but I think the answer is quite simple. It’s because he felt a little at odds with himself.
He lost out in that race because of the safety car the same one that secured Lando’s chance. (you can hear him audibly swear over the radio when it came out, which he NEVER does) He was pissed at the timing and then to top it all off gets his race ruined by Carlos of all people (again) and THEN when he’s desperately trying to force his way back thought he field he’s told to stop fighting because Lando is in the lead.
So whilst I’m sure he was happy for Lando, he was, at the same time, mourning his own loss. As he should! He’s a racing driver. he should be pissed at losing especially at no fault of his own.
So he gave Lando the space, let him take in his well deserved victory and once he’d calmed he congratulated Lando earnestly, without his feeling for his own race getting in the way!
And I think it’s says a lot about how understanding and kind Oscar is. He knew if he congratulated Lando as soon as they crossed the line he wouldn’t have meant it enough so he waited until he did mean it.
What do you think?
KES BABE you're gonna make me long post !!!
I've actually got to weigh in (pun intended) with a very real technicality that my cousin pointed out when I was looking for Oscar once we finally got to watch!
all of the drivers who congratulated Lando not only were father figures/big brother figures to him, they also finished in the top 10 and quite literally had finished their weigh in nice and quick - the exception being Daniel who did not have to go and see the stewards. quite literally Oscar had to wait toward the back of the queue to finish his parc ferme shit (did we ever even get eyes on him?) from there he had to go see the stewards. depending on who they spoke to first out of him, Carlos and KMag and how long they kept him in the meeting, from there he'd have had to find out where Lando was (celebrating? interviews? cool down room?) and then run around to wherever he was. and ofc if he was in cool down he wouldn't have been allowed in.
so technically maybe Lando would've still been easy to find in Oscar's gap between finishing in parc ferme and going to the stewards, he might also have been stood waiting for his interview or even doing it or he might have already headed to the cool down room etc etc etc.
but I am NOT going to expect Oscar to try and navigate all of that when he not only had his top 3 position ruined but now he also had to go and find out if he was going to be penalized as well !!
especially when he knows he's got ample time to congratulate Lando anyway and Oscar is not remotely the type to care if cameras are around to broadcast it or not. the other non-podium drivers were going to entirely different garages and who knows when they'd cross paths with Lando again.
so honestly I personally think this all came down to technicalities more than anything else and if Oscar had finished in the top 10 at least then he would've absolutely been right there to congratulate Lando both for the ease of it but also bc it wouldn't have been as awful a result even if did receive a penalty.
and equally if he had the time to think of it, he would've assumed Carlos was already headed up there to congratulate Lando (and possibly could have seen him) and it was not !! the time for Oscar and Carlos to cross paths at that moment !!
BUT AS YOU SAID !! I think if there was time for him to get past the frustration and anger at what had happened to his own race and those mitigating factors weren't as much of an issue as I'm guessing they were, we know damn well that he'd be thinking what you said <3<3 bc even when things are going horrendously for him, Oscar never loses his head. and if he at all thought he'd bring his own negativity to the biggest moment in Lando's career so far then no WAY would he have risked it.
and bottom line is that one hug has ended up paling in comparison with how much Oscar was there for Lando in Oscar accepting 50% of the upgrades, obeying team orders for Lando rather than trying to get back in the points, showing up for Lando's celebrations twice in a major way, then going out to celebrate him all night long and posting about his win on social media for days afterward <3 like sure it would've had wider publicity if there'd been a hug right after - but Lando's beaming smile and thanking Oscar shows that he doesn't rate publicity as being more significant than everything else Oscar did for him that weekend ;__;
and what's actually really killed me is that surely surely there had to be an element of it for Lando where he remembered last year telling the press how it stung and hurt that Oscar had achieved any kind of win before him. that Oscar was never a showboat about it and always specified that it was a sprint win and not a real race win. that Lando was always the one to bring it up and give Oscar his dues but that Oscar never brought it up again afterward himself. and the mounting anxiety for Lando of what if Oscar got that race win before him? and how much that anxiety must have been at it's peak watching Oscar leading in Miami?? literally I think it would've been too much to humanly expect Lando to cope at all well. I think the absolute least amount of grace we would have given him would be to not go and immediately celebrate it with Oscar but honestly? if he'd decided to just do his post race interviews and slip away quietly until the video with Andrea then none of us would have judged him for it AT ALL. it would have been an unavoidably bittersweet day and knowing what the press and haters would have done to him would have paled in comparison to Lando having to live with knowing that Oscar got there first and so much quicker. and genuinely I think it would have taken a certain amount of shine off of it for Oscar as well and he would not have even slightly expected Lando to put himself through any more of it than strictly necessary for appearances.
(seriously I think we all breathed a sigh of relief over this win as much as we were elated about it !! we will never have to exist in a timeline where Oscar got his race win before Lando)
so not only will Lando have not remotely expected Oscar to show up in parc ferme for a hug, he has clearly counted every moment of Oscar celebrating his win as golden and beyond the call of teammate duty. and that not only did he make sure that posterity recorded Oscar's achievements earlier in that race, he made sure that he thanked him by setting the example of what could be done on just half the upgrades.
we all expected each of the hugs Lando got right after that race. each of those men has helped to raise Lando and has watched him since he was small and awkward and painfully shy and suffering heart-wrenching race results. they needed to hold their boy in his moment of purest happiness.
but none of us could have reasonably assumed how Oscar - only just out of his rookie season and Lando's teammate of just one season and a bit - would react to such a devastating race for himself while also on the biggest day of his teammate's career to date.
one hug would honestly have been a perfectly fine bare minimum and plenty of other drivers would have called that good and begged off.
equally tho one measly hug shouldn't make anyone underestimate how extraordinarily above and beyond and then some Oscar has been for Lando for the past week. that not only has he celebrated it and celebrated Lando, he's done so in proportion to people older than him who have known Lando much longer than him and who are not direct rivals to Lando.
like genuinely, the general F1 fans keep saying what a gentlemen and exemplary one-of-a-kind teammate Oscar has been through all of this and they're absolutely right. we not only got to rejoice in Lando's win, we also get to rejoice that he has a teammate who has proven his worth and made the McLaren driver partnership secure for the years they have to come <3<3
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