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inkskinned · 4 months

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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

#nosebleed club #sorry stephen not ur fault #just like. thinking #writeblr #spilled ink #warm up #every time nat is like - oh let me get that for u #im like .... this is a trick right like ur gonna be mean now bc u did something nice rn #so obviously if ur being nice now either u did something mean and im about to learn about it #or you're going to BE mean #or ur gonna hold this over my head forever and i'll never get a nice thing ever again?#and every time nat is like .... babe i just actually like u #lesbian jesus story is 100% real btw. she also told me not to be an event planner #literally changed the shape of my life

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teatoptony · 8 months

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For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

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cat-toess · 9 months

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🂡🂡 LOVE SICK 🂡🂡

Summary ✄: In which, Lyney is unbelievably, heads over heels with you.

Tags ✄: fluff, strangers to lovers (soon hehe), mid-length (sort of) one-sided pinning (for now...) gn!reader (intended, I sincerely apologize if not, please message me if you find any mistakes in terms of this topic! I will do my best to improve my writing :D)

Notes ✄: Lyney come home, please. I beg of u. come home at 15 pity (on my knees sobbing and crying rocks) pspspspspspspsps

P.S: I will be revising this even after this has been published, so if you find any grammatical errors then it might be fixed the next time you check <3 might even add paragraphs- so if you want, make sure to check in regularly!

Ft Lynette, being the best wing woman in the history of teyvat.

PART 2 ✄: Lovesick pt.2

Lynette was always supporting Lyney. Whether it was behind the scene or in front of the audience of their spectacular magic shows. Always wanting the best for her brother, silently looking out for him (although she may not show it directly on her face).

But there were some situations where she could not back up her dear brother.

Said ‘situation’ being her brother's ridiculous one-sided crush on you, a stranger turned friend that Lynette had met while shopping for some new tea brews. You, a fellow tea enthusiast, passing by recommended her some of your favorites. Which ended in a lengthy conversation between you and her about the teas of the world.

Now this wasn’t the usual silly crush Lyney would have that only lasted (at best) 1 week. No he was horrendously down bad. Even Lynette, who had no experience in the romance department mind you, could notice her brother's admiration to you immediately. Hell she could probably spot his stupid heart eyes all the way from Celestia.

It was only a matter of time until the entirety of Fontaine and their grandmothers and children knew of Lyney’s infatuation with you.

This led her to her current predicament.

“Lynette please, do your lovely, wonderful and majestic brother one favor! Introduce me to your ethereal friend from earlier!” Her brother dramatically whined. Clinging to his sister's leg like it was his lifeline.

“I would if you weren’t being such a creep about them, you’ll scare them away if you meet them in such a state.” Lynette grumbled.

Even Freminet, who usually kept to himself started to feel bad for Lyney.

“Lynette, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce Lyney to Y/N, would it?” He asked. Looking down at Lyney who was close to tears.

“Thank you Freminet! See Freminet sides with me!” Lyney exclaims, gesturing to Freminet, who is quietly sitting in a chair minding his own business.

“Fine, I’m meeting them today at Café Lucerene. I’ll introduce you to them there, okay Lyney?” Lynette sighed in annoyance (though she was a little happy since she’s never seen her brother so mesmerized with someone.) As soon as she says those words, his face lights up almost immediately, the signs of sadness are long gone from his face. Lyney jumps up to Lynette to go in for a hug. A hug that she swiftly dodges with a sour expression.

“I truly owe you my beloved sister! But before that mind helping me pick out a few strategies to greet Y/N? I can’t fumble my charming first appearance with my future lover, can I?” Lyney giggles, like a young school girl in love Lynette thinks.

“Fine…” Lynette murmurs.

——

By preparing, Lynette thought her brother would only ask her opinion on how to greet you or what to compliment about you first.

She didn’t mean to agree helping out her brother immaculately plan a custom-made show for you.

“Lynette! Which bird should I pull out of my hat? The classic magician favorite, the pigeon? Or the epitome of love, the dove? Or maybe my dearest may prefer one of those weird exotic birds from Sumeru? What were they called again?” Lyney pondered for a second before Lynette interrupted his thinking.

“You mean the dusk bird?” Lynette quips.

“Yes that one! Or maybe something bigger? Like a sumpter beast? Or even better a Phantasm-“

“Lyney! You are not summoning dangerous beasts through your hat, also what if they attack Y/N?” Lynette says as she rubs her head. Maybe Lyney's stupidity was finally starting to rub on to her.

“Hmm, you have a point a suppose, however would I marry them if they were buried 6 ft below me.” Lyney dramatically exclaims placing his hand on his forehead.

Lynette sometimes worries about her brother these days, ever since he met you, he keeps feeding himself delusions that you two were meant to be. He even had a whole life plan for the two of you, he decided that your first child should be named Lyney/Lynette jr (depending on if they were a boy or girl, her brother had said) .

“Wait a moment… Lynette I have the most spectacular idea, listen closely.” Lyney blurted out, an imaginary light bulb appearing on his head.

——

Now here she was, hiding at a nearby table at the Café she and you were supposed to meet. Originally you two would meet here to exchange tea brews you found over the week and have a brief talk about them. But this time it was different.

The first part of the sibling's elaborate plan was to tell you that Lynette was sick so her brother Lyney came to pick up the tea instead.

So here Lyney is standing near the table, patiently waiting for (his soon-to-be) love of his life to arrive. As if on cue you arrive and Lyney is already enchanted with your appearance. Ogling at you like a hopless person in love. Lynette had never cringed so hard in her life.

Lynette has to stop the insane urge to groan at her brother's antics.

“Hi Lynette, the green tea this time is- Oh? You’re not Lynette? “ You say in confusion, staring at the young man in front of you. You had seen him before on posters and the front page of The Steambird and all that, so you were surprised at the least to see a famous face instead of Lynette (who was also famous, but that aside)

“Greetings, exquisite friend of my sister.” Lyney bows, but as he tips his hat a swarm of doves fly out of his hat. “I am Lyney, Lynette’s brother.” He says as he magically makes a bouquet of rainbow roses appear in his hand, and gives them to you.

Who knew Lynette's brother was such a charmer.

“Oh hello, nice to meet you Lyney. I’m Y/N” You say politely flashing him a smile (one which made his stomach do flips)

“No need to introduce yourself, I’ve heard so much about you from my sister.” He says, revealing a charming smirk of his own.

“ I see, if I may ask where is Lynette today?” you ask out of curiosity, looking around searching for your fellow tea lover. (sorry if you don't like tea)

“Ah, sadly my darling sister is sick today, so I have come instead of her to pick up the tea. I accepted the offer as soon as she mentioned it. Who would want to miss the opportunity to meet a person as beautiful as yourself.” He comments, gently holding your hand as he brings it up to his mouth to kiss the front of your hand.

Lynette was praying to Celestia and all the beings above that her brother would choke on his own spit.

“Why, thank you.” You say, not expecting to be drowned in compliments by this stranger. Your demeanor goes from calm to slightly flustered in a matter of minutes. (I mean who wouldn't with Lyney around, honestly)

Lynette internally wonders what could you ever possibly see in that obnoxious brother of hers?

For a while you two engage in a friendly conversation about simple things like the weather and so on. Soon enough you two get more comfortable as Lyney starts to show you a variety of magic tricks.

"No way you're actually getting my card-"

"Is this your card?"

"You weren't joking-"

Lynette sighs as she starts preparing for phase 2.

The second part of their scheme was to get Lynette to conjure a strong gust of wind to knock you off your feet so that Lyney could catch you and scoop you up. Like in those popular plays.

This much should be enough. Lynette thinks to herself as she summons a gust of wind headed straight to your direction. Aimed at you of course.

But what is this? The wind blows a little off track and hits Lyney instead.

The next few seconds were like they were in slow motion, Lyney has a surprised expression on his face as he plummeted down to the floor. Lynette is laughing at her brother. Holding her stomach and rolling on the floor (an unusual sight for the people watching the scene unfold, only used to the cool and composed Lynette.)

That is until you grab Lyney into your arms last second and suspend him a few centimeters above the ground.

Would you look at this? Lynette thinks.

The plan had completely backfired.

Oh well, her brother would be delighted with the results either way.

“Are you okay Lyney?” You ask concern lacing your voice.

Lyney thinks his name never sounded prettier than when it came from your lips, with your voice.

“Yeah I am, sorry about that.” The usually flirty and confident magician is nowhere to be found. His cheeks were tinted with a rosy hue of pink as his mind went in spirals.

“No problem, it was nothing.”

An awkward yet (sort of) romantic silence envelopes both of you. The two you staring at each other's eyes and shyly glancing at each other for a few minutes.

Lynette was a hair away from barfing up all of her breakfast and possibly her internal organs.

You were the first to snap out of the trance like state.

“Well, I have to go soon… I’ll see you later I guess?” You ask, waving your farewells to the blonde. Slowly heading back home.

“Yeah, see you later.” Lyney waves back, a smile adorning his gorgeous facial features.

Lynette pops out of her hiding spot, and takes a metal note of her brothers' expression.

“You’re down bad, aren’t you?”

“Lynette!”

@cat-toess 2023 please do not plagiarize or copy on other sites <3 Reblogs are appreciated, but please give credit :D if you have feedback please refrain from being offensive <3

The amount of horrible grammatical errors I found in this is crazy- I sincerely apologize 🥲

Some of my other posts with Lyney...

❁ Lyney Hcs

#lyney #lynette #lynette best wing woman fr fr #lyney x reader #genshin x reader #Genshin #genshin impact #x reader #gn! reader #cat-toess writes!

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sorcerous-caress · 6 months

Note

So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.

Dealing with a Teacher Tav

[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]

[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]

Gale

He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.

Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.

Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.

He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.

Shadowheart

She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.

She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?

One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.

Laezel

Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.

You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?

Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?

Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.

Wyll

As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.

The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.

Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.

You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.

He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."

You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.

Karlach

Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.

In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.

She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?

Astarion

You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.

It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.

Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.

Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.

Halsin

Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.

But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.

Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.

Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.

Minthara

As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.

Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.

....it's not as bad as she imagined.

She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.

But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.

Jaheira

Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.

Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.

A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.

If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.

Minsc

Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.

Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.

You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.

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golden-cherry · 1 year

Text

deal - cl16 (2/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The first breakfast together is a good idea to get to know each other better. And to make the first arrangements. And to cheer each other up.

Warnings: google translated French, mention of "nice guys"

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: part two my loves! please tell me if you liked it!

Back when you went to school, you always woke up to the cooing of the pigeons that lived in the tree outside your childhood bedroom. They announced the new day, which was filled with learning, friends and fun. True, the time of your graduation had been incredibly exhausting, but in all the summers that followed, you woke up in the morning to the same sound and nostalgia felt like an old friend.

But now it's mid December. There are no birds outside whose chirping might wake you in the morning. And yet you've been lying awake in your bed for an hour.

All night you've been thinking. Charles apparently didn't try to break into the bedroom to kill you. You haven't heard any strange noises all night. But deep sleep was still out of the question with a complete stranger sleeping on the couch one room over. He did seem nice last night - after you had talked things out halfway - but the "nice guys" are also the worst in the end.

After all, you had to experience that firsthand.

Hands clasped behind your head, you stare at the white ceiling of your room. Your cell phone is lying next to your pillow. Some time ago, you lost it somewhere in your bedspread, and when you had to shake it out, the phone flew into the nearest wall. Since then it has its permanent place near your head.

A quick glance at it tells you that Charles will theoretically be asleep for just under two more hours - if you can believe him. Normally, you'd be getting ready for work right now and eating breakfast. Maybe you'd fry up some fried eggs or make some yogurt with berries. And then you'd go to work in peace.

Frustrated, you put your forearms over your face.

Right after you woke up, you googled for new job openings, but except for a new dog-sitter job posting, there doesn't seem to be anything new. Nothing at all. If the job were advertised with a reasonable salary that would allow you to continue financing your life in Monaco, you'd think twice about applying.

Finding a job that suits you, is fun, and pays a good salary is incredibly difficult. Almost impossible. When you were younger, you once saw a picture of a triangle on the internet. One corner said "friends," the second said "good grades," and the third said "sleep." The caption read "You can only choose two." That's exactly how job hunting feels.

You wouldn't tell Charles about it. Your unemployment, like his affairs, is private. If he asks, you'll simply say you're off because the company requires its employees to take vacation days in December. Doesn't sound convincing, but at least it doesn't completely suck.

Oh God, hopefully he won't ask.

As your stomach speaks up with an almost embarrassingly loud bubbling sound, you can no longer suppress your hunger. You slip out of bed and change from your sleep outfit - a big shirt and comfy sports shorts - into a pair of jeans and a comfy sweater before quietly turning the key in the door lock.

The rest of the apartment is silent. You sneak into the bathroom on your socks to brush your teeth and quickly comb your hair. As you slip on your shoes at the front door, you glance toward the couch to make sure you weren't dreaming last night.

The fact that a stranger is suddenly standing in your apartment, claiming that it is his apartment, sounds very far-fetched. And that he then spontaneously starts cooking sounds even more implausible.

But you didn't imagine it. Charles is lying with his back turned to you between the pillows, the blanket tangled between his legs. He seems to be sound asleep, because when you open the apartment door, he doesn't move a bit.

After taking a good look at the dog-sitting job this morning - two cute dachshunds, Hubert and Guenther - you had drawn up a chart of the things your new roommate and you would need to discuss.

Cleaning the apartment, for example. Since you'd still be staying in the bedroom, you'd obviously keep the room clean. Maybe you could also clear out a drawer in the dresser for Charles to put some of his things in, so he doesn't have to live out of a suitcase. But it's definitely too early for that. After all, you've only known each other since yesterday.

Although the morning has just begun, the sun is shining pleasantly warm as you walk to the nearest bakery. Having breakfast together definitely can't hurt if you plan to get to know each other better so that your shared apartment can function well. As long as Charles doesn't kill you and gets a little involved as far as organization goes, you'll be fine. Last night he already said that there are some things that need to be discussed today. And as long as the organization and in the end also the execution is not only dependent on you, the ship will probably not sink.

Marie, the incredibly nice saleswoman who gives you a small, free piece of cake every Saturday, bags you two pain au chocolat and two croissants before you pay and she wishes you a nice day. While you don't know what Charles likes to eat for breakfast - if he eats breakfast at all - you're certainly not barking up the wrong tree with the pastries. Besides, breakfast isn't just about getting to know each other better and getting some structure, but you'd also like to apologize. For being willing to hit him over the head with the newspaper.

You quietly enter the apartment, only to find that Charles is already awake despite the time - 8:13 a.m. He's sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you close the door behind you. His brown hair is sticking up from his head, and he wearily runs a hand through his strands before looking at you.

"Bonjour." His voice seems to have dropped an octave since last night, and it's rougher than yesterday, too, which is probably due to waking up. His gaze moves from your face to the bags in your hand. "Petit déjeuner?" Breakfast. You nod. "Pour nous deux?" For both of us? Again, you nod. Charles closes his eyes briefly before rising from the couch. "Give me a moment. Be right back."

While he's in the bathroom, you put two plates on the dining room table and add everything that could be used for a good breakfast. You quickly rinse the dishes Charles put in the sink yesterday and put them away.

When your new roommate rejoins you, he looks more awake. He sits down across from you at the table and reaches for a bag. As he grabs a croissant, he looks briefly surprised, but you're too distracted by the pillow print on his cheek to notice.

"How did you sleep?" he asks as you take a bite of your pain au chocolat.

You swallow. What are you supposed to answer him? That you slept fitfully all night, afraid he might be a murderer after all? Would be a great topic of conversation to start the day.

"I don't know," you answer neutrally. Charles tilts his head. "I mean, it was kind of weird knowing that someone completely foreign was sleeping just one room over."

"I'll bet." His smile is faint, but genuine. Little dimples bore into his cheeks. "Maybe we should make sure we're not particularly strangers to each other then. After all, we'll be living here together for quite some time. And I'd hate to be responsible for you not getting a decent night's sleep."

"It's okay," you answer him. "I haven't slept properly in ages."

"I'm always told that a good night's sleep is important. That's why mine is sacred to me." He rubs his free hand over the dark stubble on his chin. "Besides, it's not healthy not to sleep soundly. From that point of view, it's worth a try to me. And I'd hate to be responsible for your poor sleep.

Most of all, you'd like to tell him that while his presence unsettled you last night, he's not the reason you can't rest, or sleep through the night. That he's not responsible for you falling asleep late and waking up early. But you don't. Because it's none of his business.

"While we're on the subject -" you put your pain au chocolat on the plate in front of you, "why are you up already? Did I wake you up? I swear I was trying to be really quiet, but -"

"I got a call," he says curtly. "Until you were standing in the doorway, I didn't even know you were gone. So, everything's cool." The smile is gone from his face. Apparently, his caller is just as popular as the one you pushed away last night. Or maybe he's just tired.

Since it's none of your business, you try to distract him. "So, Charles. How about it? What else is in you besides being able to cook? What do I need to know about you?"

Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc turned twenty-five in October, born and raised in Monaco. He has two brothers, one of whom is older than him and the other younger. He speaks English, French and Italian and does a lot of sports. He likes to eat pasta, but his nutritionist - who the heck has a nutritionist? Someone who can afford to have a second home in Monaco, of course - always advises him against it.

He also travels a lot for work reasons. On his cell phone he has a lot of photos that he has taken in different countries and to be honest, you are already a little envious. Except for your home country and Monaco, you've never been anywhere else. What would you give to be able to travel so much? A dream that will probably remain denied to you, if your bank balance is to be trusted.

Some of the photos, he confesses, were taken by Joris - your Joris. You knew Joris was also a photographer by trade, and judging from the pictures, he's incredibly good at what he does. Apparently, the two of them travel together more often. Either the two are best friends or Joris is Charles' personal photographer. Or both.

He won't tell you exactly what the Monegasque does for a living, though. "Something with cars," is his answer, and since you have relatively little idea about it, it's quite enough for you. He tells you a lot about himself, and you secretly hope that the information he gets from you will be enough for him, and that he will please not ask about your job.

But there you are mistaken.

"So what do you do for a living?"

The pastries are eaten so you crumple up the bags and throw them in the trash can. You stand up, and as you turn your back on Charles, your face contorts briefly. "I'm a photographer."

You hear Charles rise from his chair as well, stacking the plates. You barely noticeably flinch as he suddenly stands next to you. "And who do you work for?" He places the plates in the empty sink, grabs the sponge and detergent, and begins washing the dishes.

"For a small magazine, nothing wild," you reply curtly, drying the clean plate Charles holds out to you with his foam soaked fingers. It clanks as you put it in the cupboard with the others.

"For that one?" He points with a nod to the magazine lying on the small coffee table. Of course, it's the one you threatened him with yesterday. A wide grin spreads across his face as you roll your eyes.

"Sorry," you apologize, but are secretly glad for the opportunity to change the subject. "What would you do if someone strange suddenly showed up at your apartment?"

"I'd probably threaten to call the police." You don't know how that's possible, but his grin gets even wider and his dimples even deeper.

You have to grin. "Ah, so we're joking about that now? That I was standing there all scared, armed only with a magazine?"

Charles' gaze is amused, but gentle. The green in his eyes sparkles as he looks at you. "Just wrapped in a towel, not to mention. But I'm sure you would have kicked my ass."

Charles stows his bedding in the hall closet while you wipe down the table to clean up the last remnants of your first breakfast together. After fluffing the couch cushions, he sits down and pulls his laptop from his backpack. Stretching out his legs, he gestures for you to join him.

"So," he begins as you sit down at the other end of the couch. You pull your knees to your chest as he waits for you to get comfortable. There are only a few inches between your feet. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I've been thinking about all the things that come up when you have a roommate." He looks up from his laptop for a moment. "Well, actually, I was just Googling."

You're pleasantly surprised that he actually thought about it. And apparently, not just a bit. He's even created an Excel spreadsheet, with weekly plans, tasks, and a financial overview, as far as grocery shopping goes. He included every little detail in his lists.

Very dedicated, the young man in front of you.

"We're summarizing." Charles stretches out his arms and folds his hands behind his head. You've spent an hour talking everything out, going over several possibilities, and finally you've come to a common denominator.

"Since you live in the bedroom, it's also your job to keep the room clean." That was the easiest point. "And that's why it's up to me to clean the living room. The bathroom gets cleaned weekly, on a rotating basis. Since you just cleaned it recently, it's my turn next week."

You come to an agreement that you will buy groceries from the money in the joint household fund - a small cookie jar where you actually stored sewing supplies - and he will cook instead. Since you're more of a frozen pizza kind of person and his nutritionist sends him a weekly meal plan, Charles also wants to put more money into the household fund. The fact that you benefit from both the meal plan and his generosity doesn't seem to bother him.

"That settles the organizational stuff," he finishes, setting his laptop aside. "But we should establish other rules. For the interpersonal stuff."

You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow. "Interpersonal?"

"Yup." He stretches again, and his white shirt slides up a little so you can see a strip of skin from his belly. You quickly look away. "Communication and stuff. So if something's bothering you, please tell me." Charles crosses his arms in front of his chest, his shirt straining over his biceps. "I don't feel like having to ask five times to get you to finally come clean. My patience is definitely too thin for that."

Understandable. Your patience is not quite that thin, but when someone doesn't speak up and then acts passive-aggressively, that's a no-go for you, too.

"Open communication. Got it." You cross your arms in front of your chest as well. "But then please give me a heads up if you're bringing someone home with you. I don't want to come home at some point and be left in just a towel again. And if you do bring girls, I'll stay the night somewhere else." With his looks, you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have at least five women wrapped around his little finger. Maybe you're crossing a line with the request, but if this whole thing is going to work out, it should be cleared up.

The smile that just now had a firm place on his face disappears. "Don't worry. It's not going to happen."

Apparently you have crossed a line, or rather hit a sore spot. All of a sudden Charles seems tense, the relaxed atmosphere seems to be lost and you would love to take it all back and apologize, but your roommate is faster.

"I don't think we need to talk about privacy. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with. If someone wants to talk about it voluntarily, that's fine, but no one is being pressured into anything here." You nod silently. "And I think honesty is important. I experience so much dishonesty in my job and it makes life so much more difficult and stressful. Just be honest with me, no matter what, and I promise I'll be honest with you, too. No matter what it's about."

The topic of unemployment pops into your head, but disappears again as Charles scoots closer to you on the couch and sits up straight. "We'll work it out. As long as you promise not to murder me in my sleep. After all, I don't have the option of locking myself in a room." His smile has returned to his face. It's faint, but at least it's there.

"You caught that?" you ask, biting your lower lip.

"Like I said, the walls aren't very thick. But I don't blame you." He winks at you. "But I hope I'm not a complete stranger to you now."

He's actually not. True, you haven't talked about much personal stuff yet, but that's sure to come with time. Or maybe it won't. Sharing an apartment doesn't necessarily mean you'll become best friends. And that would be fine, too.

"I'll think twice about locking the door tonight," you quip, and his smile widens. It's so infectious that you follow suit.

"All right. I think we can work this out. I haven't drawn up a roommate agreement now, but we're both adults. We'll stick to the agreements and if one of us thinks of anything else, we'll talk it over and work it out." He holds out his hand for you to shake. "Deal?"

You hold out your hand as well, but before you can shake his, the cell phone in your pocket rings. You pull it out and when you see who's calling you, your smile vanishes in a millisecond.

Why is he calling you? Hasn't he humiliated you enough? Embarrassed you? Made you the joke of your - former - friend group? What does he want from you now?

You press the call away and, frustrated, toss the cell phone between you on the couch and rub your hands over your face. You don't notice that Charles has caught on to the situation until he speaks up.

"Are you busy now?" As you look at him, he's still smiling, but a little softer. His smile doesn't reach his ears now, but the green in his eyes gleams nonetheless.

You exhale loudly. You're out of a job. What could you possibly be up to? "No. Why?"

Charles gets up from the couch. "Then let's do something. I know a really good lookout point. You can see all of Monaco from there."

Whether he actually feels like doing something with you, or is suggesting it out of pity, you don't know. But maybe Charles deserves a little benefit of the doubt. And you definitely don't feel like sitting around on the couch waiting for anything to happen.

"Come on, Y/N," he tries to coax you out of your shell.

"Are you going to take me to a secluded place to kill me? Or are you really going to show me a nice lookout point?" You stand up so that you are facing each other. You have to tilt your head back a little to look him in the eyes.

Charles looks down at you. "Do you really think I'd kill you now, after we've spent ages discussing our shared apartment? Wouldn't that be wasted energy?" He rolls his eyes playfully. "Give yourself a break."

"Fine," you reply to him. You raise your hand and point your index finger at him. "But if that lookout isn't the most beautiful I've ever seen, I may kill you."

Charles laughs. He almost closes his eyes at that. The sound is so heartfelt you have to grin.

"Deal."

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #Charles Leclerc fluff #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 smut #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles Leclerc x yn #charles Leclerc one shot #Carlos sainz #lando norris

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withleeknow · 2 months

Note

Can I req something for the milestone event with lee know using this prompt „time passes slower without you.”? ✨

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

patience is a virtue, everybody knows that.

you know it too. the only issue? patience is a virtue that you don't have.

you're an impatient person by nature, born with an inherent restlessness within your bones that keys you up more often than you'd like to admit. in school, you were always thinking about your next degree. with work, you're always thinking about the next big thing, the future position you'll hopefully land once you gain enough experience. you're always waiting for something else, constantly looking forward to the days ahead instead of living in the now. it's a personal flaw, you're well aware of this.

it happens when it comes to even the most mundane things. what cafe should you try next weekend, even if you're not even half done with the caramel macchiato you're holding in your hands? what movie should you watch next, even if the one playing on your tv screen hasn't gone into its second act yet?

your impatience already flares up on a daily basis, but it's even more amplified and unbearable whenever minho is away. it doesn't help that he's often gone for weeks, if not months on end. you're always counting down the days until he's back before he's even out the door.

"just one more week, yeah?"

his words hang heavy in the silence of your bedroom. your phone is on speaker, set against the pillow next to yours so you could pretend like he's here with you when you close your eyes. you try to facetime every day even if it's only for fifteen, twenty minutes. just to catch up on each other's day and at least see each other for a while before you go to sleep. it's bittersweet, being able to look at him and hear him talk but only from the digital void of your phone.

even though you tend to hide from him how you really feel, how much you actually miss him and wish for him to be back by your side, you think it must still bleed through from time to time. be it the subtle way your voice drops during conversation or how your eyes glaze over with sadness just a little bit when you stare at his handsome face for too long on video call.

you know minho is trying to comfort you. he wouldn't be a very good partner if he can't tell that his own girlfriend is having a hard time without him, would he? and it's not like you bitch and moan any chance you get. no, you always try to hide it from him because it's not his fault that he has to be away sometimes, not like he's choosing to leave you just for the fun of it.

you know his gentle reminder is meant to mitigate your ache, but it only makes you be more aware of how time doesn't seem to pass when he's not here. the clock stops ticking the second he's gone, and you feel like you have to drag yourself through every minute of every hour and repeat the process for days and weeks and months.

"one week is too long," you say quietly. "time passes slower without you."

seven days. one hundred and sixty eight hours. ten thousand and eighty minutes. it's practically nothing compared to the time that has already passed, but that doesn't mean that you get to miss him any less even though it's only a two-hour flight away.

minho doesn't really reply directly to what you said. instead, he tries to distract you with anecdotes of his day - like a funny looking pigeon he saw on the street earlier or a cute photo of soonie that his mom sent him. it works a little. he considers it a success when you crack a smile and giggle at his theatrics.

he keeps the conversation light until you're biting back a yawn and he knows it's time to let you get some rest. even when you're saying your goodnights, neither of you mention what day it'll be tomorrow. you're sure that in the morning you'll wake up to messages from him - not entirely poetic because it's not his specialty, but they'll still be infinitely and wonderfully sincere. you don't bring it up in case he feels guilty, and you think he doesn't bring it up because the reminder that he won't be here might make you sleep restlessly tonight.

you fall asleep with a little bit of a heavy heart, and wake up when the sound of your doorbell ringing fills your apartment at precisely 7:06am. the other side of the bed still cold and devoid of your minho, but it's not the first thing that you notice like you do every morning.

no, the first thing that you register today is the vivid discomfort of having your peace disturbed so early on when it should be a day that you get to spend feeling nothing but comfort and contentment. or at least, as content as you can get without minho here. you carry that irritation with you all the way to the front door, wild bedhead and all.

the door swings open.

you're a deer in the headlights and suddenly your displeasure is vanished, gone in a second like it was never there to begin with.

"surpriseee!"

a sheepish greeting.

you rub your eyes, then pinch yourself on the arm.

you're not really sure what happens next. it's all just a blur of tears and ugly sobbing as you launch yourself into his arms, almost making him knock into the suitcase that's still perched right beside him. the bouquet of peonies in his hand becomes an unfortunate victim as it falls to the floor after the impact, but minho leaves it be, in favor of holding you as tightly as you're holding onto him.

his fingers tangled in your hair, your arms wound around his neck securely like you're afraid you're still dreaming and he'll disappear if you let go. you don't question why he's here; you just accept that he is.

minho peppers warm kisses to your cheeks, your jawline, your forehead and your lips. it's graceless and it's damp from your tears but neither of you could bring yourself to care. he murmurs with an upward quirk of his mouth where he's pressing his smile to your lips, all affection, all love. "happy birthday, baby."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki @astronomicallyyy @alm334 @lashaemorow (italicized = can't tag)

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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r3medialch8os · 3 months

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devastating trobed quotes (a list)

does thinking of troy and abed ever make you inexplicably upset? well, it's all in the text! aside from troy and abed serving as frequent comedic buffers, they are given some weighty emotional scenes throughout community's run. just look at the meat of these lines!

we just won't get masking tape (what a beautiful, simplistic way to portray how troy is able to think around abed's systematic manner of viewing their friendship in its beginning stages as well as an illustration of how he deals with conflict)

i love you (pure honesty in a moment of intense distress)

i know (both a reference, because it's easy, and the truth)

you don't like people who tell you what to do, and i don't wanna be one of those people (one of the more heartbreaking things said between the two of them, with troy knowing exactly abed's qualms and negative experiences with being controlled, not wanting to add to it, and still having to fall into the pattern for the sake of keeping him safe, fearing he's risking their friendship by doing so)

you weren't supposed to think those things (you of all people, the person i trust most in this whole world)

this is going to be the last thing we ever do together, we can't stop (what the actual fuck)

i know you hate when people do this in movies (whispered quietly to abed by troy, without anyone else hearing, one of the most romantic, intimate lines in the whole show, argue with the wall)

you're gonna have to trust that you're gonna have to trust me (said to someone with severe trust issues, and for good reasons, just an incredible invocation of the bond they have)

for the first time in my long history of being locked inside things, i knew someone would come (as someone who was bullied in high school, this line hits so fucking hard, aren't we all waiting on this moment?)

you were out there somewhere, and you weren't looking for me? (devastating in a way where i simply cannot believe they throw words like these around casually)

the floor can't be lava forever, the game's gotta end (troy, perpetually insistent on indulging abed, on letting him do his thing, on enjoying his imagination, has to be the one to bring him back to reality this time, and even if he tries to do it as gentle as possible, it will never not rip my fucking heart out)

it's not a game for me troy. i'm seeing real lava because you're leaving, it's embarrassing. i don't wanna be crazy but i am crazy so i made a game that made you and everyone else see what i see. i don't want it to be there either, i swear. i want you to be able to leave but i don't think the lava goes away until you stop leaving (fuck it, i'm putting the whole thing, not a lot makes me cry but abed so clearly experiencing disillusion and trying to assuage troy while also communicating to him how hard it is to accept him leaving all with an air of embarrassment and hopelessness and desperation will do it for me, thank you very much)

i'm not leaving, okay? i promise. the floor's not lava now, just give me your hand (all i can say is that i bet it tore abed to pieces hearing these words)

i think i might be able to let troy go now (the way he says it too)

when i cloned you i had to patch some missing parts of your dna with genes from a homing pigeon. you may notice side effects like a compulsion to come back (in other words, i am in love with you and i never found the right time to say it)

#this is lowkey silly i just like to talk lol #community #abed nadir #nbc community #troy barnes #trobed #abed community #troy and abed #troy community #trobed community #community analysis

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ktaerssoi · 24 days

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caitlin clark head cannons!

straight fluff because we all need it 🥰

caitlin clark x fem!reader

has a playlist with your guys' favorite songs mixed together that she plays on the bus to almost every away game

tells everyone she drinks black coffee but when no one is looking she dumps an unhealthy amount of sugar into the drink

hates having her hair in her face, so she always has at least two hair ties with her, incase you want one too.

most people just call her caitlin, but she lets you (and only you) call her cece, (get it? like CC? caitlin clark? it took me way to long to think of that.)

will randomly send you word hunt through out the day on game pigeon claiming that the lecture she's in is boring her.

will complain that she doesn't have any sweaters because you keep taking them, but in reality she just keeps accidentally leaving them in your dorm.

has a weird obsession with panera bread chicken noodle soup.

loves loves loves celsius but won't drink them cause she's scared she's going to drink to many in one day

will always be the big spoon but she loves to be little spoon, but her all time favorite cuddling position is just a bear hug with limbs being everywhere

stresses about school on a whole other level but when you're there she's reminded that she is human, which is one of her favorite things about you. you always keep her in check.

#wcbb #caitlin clark #paige bueckers #caitlin clark x reader #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb #head c

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blues824 · 6 months

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🏃‍♂️💨 I Was TAG so of course I'll be joining in this mutual event~

All I can think about is Rollo F. With a sweetheart!s/o with number twenty~ I find it a bit funny but sweet, I just need more Rollo writings 🤧

Hoping you have a good winter holidays, I'll be back to request more~

You requested: Fake dating for Christmas Ball.

Gender-neutral reader

Rollo Flamme

It came as a surprise to no one that Crowley wanted to host a Christmas Ball for all the schools to attend to, just because Noble Bell hosted the Masquerade Ball.

There was a bit of a twist, however: Everyone attending needed to have a date. It could be a friend, it could be a romantic partner, it could be someone’s parent just to piss them off. However, everyone needed to go with someone.

To say that you had received many letters asking you to be someone’s partner would be an understatement. You have turned each of them down as politely as you could, making sure that you parted on friendly terms.

There was one that you were looking for, but if you did not receive it in three day’s time, you would accept someone at random.

Well, your silent prayer was answered in the way you didn’t expect, nor in the way you wished.

Rollo Flamme had sent you a letter via a pigeon. You rushed to go get it some food after you untied the letter from the bird’s leg. Opening the letter, you read it, just to feel your heart beat a million times and break just a few seconds later.

Dear Y/N,

I am writing to you to ask if you would be my partner for the Christmas Ball. It has come to my attention that in order to attend, one must have a partner. I would like to keep up appearances that say I am not letting the past… events… affect me or the social relationship of our respective schools negatively. I am hoping that we come to an understanding on this, as I am coming as a guest on behalf of Noble Bell College.

Should you accept, I would forever be in your debt. After all, you helped me here in Fleur City as well, and I do not believe I have paid you back for that. Ask anything of me afterward, and I will see to it that your wish is granted.

I apologize for the inconveniences this may or may not bring you.

Rollo Flamme

Well, a win is a win. You were gonna be able to go to the Christmas Ball with Rollo, the man you had harbored a crush on since the Masquerade Ball. He made you feel appreciated when no one else did, and while that was because you had no magic, you were going to take what you could get.

You immediately wrote a small note in return as the pigeon feasted on small breadcrumbs. Your hand was shaking a bit, but that might have been because your wish was finally coming true… in the most heart-shattering way possible.

Dear Rollo,

I accept your invitation to be your partner for the Christmas Ball. I await your arrival with eagerness. I ask for nothing in return, as this is what friends do for one another.

By the way, I fed your pigeon so that it may not be tired on its way back to you.

This does not cause any inconvenience to me.

Y/N L/N

~~~~~~~~

Rollo kept clicking his pen as he read your note. The brevity of it was appreciated, but it was the way in which you said that you were excited for him to be there that made his face feel warm. He was lucky that no one was around because they would have seen blush on his face.

Preparations were being made for his departure, and he was glad that he finally had a partner so that he may attend the event. He originally did not want to go, and should you have refused him, he wouldn’t have gone. Now he had a reason to go, as he did not want to disappoint you in any way.

His bags were packed, but his mind was unpacked. Ever since you had saved him from the dark space he had succumbed to, his mind was filled by you. Images of casual dates with you flew about in his brain, and all he wanted was to be with you.

However, what would everyone think if he began dating you? Everyone would know that he had a soft spot, and he would be with someone from a rivaling school. There were too many risks with that. Plus, your friends would think you were insane by choosing him. To be fair, he would think you aren’t right in the mind either. After all, who would want to be with a person who set his entire school on fire out of pure, blind rage (you, apparently).

~~~~~~~~

The day eventually came, and the cafeteria was completely cleared for the event. It was transformed into a festive room, an elegantly gothic Christmas tree in the corner to match with NRC’s aesthetic.

Grim opted to skip this event, as you bribed him with some fancy tuna. You had spent hours making sure your outfit was perfect, and that you had everything waiting to go.

Everyone was gathered outside of the cafeteria, waiting for their partners to arrive so that they may be admitted into the building to escape the cold. You were looking around to find Rollo, and you were thinking that maybe he didn’t come after all.

After a few moments of searching around and giving up, heartbroken, you started to head back to your dormitory. However, a hand reached out for your shoulder, and you jumped in surprise. You turned to see the man you had been waiting for with an apologetic look on his face.

“I apologize for making you wait this long. I couldn’t find you in this crowd of idiots.”

His statement made you laugh, as you knew a few people who would agree with him.

“It’s alright, Rollo! I’m just glad you came. I’ve missed you!” You pulled him into a hug, and the man was too stunned to speak. Your perfume or cologne that you had chosen to wear brought a feeling of comfort in his heart and lungs, making him feel as though he could actually breathe.

Once you pulled away, he extended his arm out for you to take, and you wrapped your hand around the crease in his elbow. Then, you both were allowed into the room at the Christmas Ball. It was definitely very grand and elegant, and you found yourself twirling about to take in the entire venue.

A few people let out gasps upon seeing you on the arm of Rollo Flamme, not sure what to make of it. You saw Ace and Deuce standing with each other as well, knowing that they went as friends. Attending the event meant that you got to skip the day’s classes, so obviously they were going to go.

~~~~~~~~

About an hour into the event, the DJ hired took the mic off the stand.

“All partners, head to the dance floor. The waltzing is about to begin.”

Rollo was nervous as he put his left hand on your waist and his right held yours. You put your left hand on his shoulder, and you smiled at him with that absolutely radiant smile of yours. The sight alone had the man internally on his knees, praying to whatever being was up there that you would be his and his alone.

The music started, and he took the lead. It was simple enough, only having to go by a count of three. You turned to look at your friends all around you, and you could feel the awkwardness between everyone. However, you were completely fine with where you were… even if it was under a pretense.

“Those idiots don’t even know where to place their hands… How did they even get in?” He asked, seeing Ace and Deuce.

“They are my friends, and it’s because I didn’t want to go with them. A lot of people surprisingly ended up asking me, but I refused them.”

You telling him that just made jealousy bubble up in his chest, but the fact that you turned each of those bumbling fools down made him feel better. You accepted him.

“I can’t say that I blame you,” He said.

He pulled you impossibly closer to him, making you a bit flustered. He got close to your face, looking very serious.

“...I’m not sure how I would react to someone who isn’t myself dancing with you.”

“And why is that, Rollo?” He let loose on his grip to twirl you around before you went back into position.

“Because I have fallen in love with you and I am not sure I want to get back up,” You had never been so happy that his face was so close to yours because you placed a kiss on his lips as you both danced.

The man’s face went bright red, but he reciprocated the display of affection tenfold, happy that you were his.

Once you pulled away, you smiled and asked, jokingly, “Do you think we convinced everyone that there is a feeling of goodwill between our schools?”

“I think we did more than that,” He said, smiling as well.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #rollo #rollo x reader #rollo flamm #rollo flamm x reader #twst rollo #twst rollo flamm #twst rollo x reader #twst rollo flamm x reader #rollo flamme #rollo flamme x reader #twst rollo flamme #twst rollo flamme x reader

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