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yandere-writer-momo · 3 months

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The final part of Mommy! First part

Yandere Short Stories: Mommy

Delusional Yandere Single Father x Teacher Afab Reader x Platonic Yandere Son

Jesse wrapped his arms around (your name)‘s legs, the small boy hummed in contentment when she ran her fingers through his black curls. Why couldn’t she be his mom? She was so warm and gentle… so much better than the woman who gave birth to him.

“Jesse? I think your nanny is waiting to take you home.” (Your name) smiled down at Jesse who only burrowed himself further into her skirts. She sighed at how clingy the young boy was, but she was sympathetic to his feelings. Jesse didn’t have any warmth in his home so he sought it out from her.

“I don’t want to go home… can’t I stay with you?” Jesse glanced up at her with his blue puppy dog eyes, his lips in a pout. “Can’t you just adopt me, I’ll be good…”

“Jesse, I can’t adopt you.” (Your name) felt her heart clench when he started to cry. “Jesse-“

“But all the other kids have a mommy and I don’t! I want to be read stories and I want homemade lunches. I don’t want to be alone!” Jesse buried his face into (your name)’s skirts. His little hands clutched tightly onto the cotton fabric in a death grip. “I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be quiet and I won’t ask for much-“

(Your name)’s thumbs instantly brushed away the hot tears that dribbled down his soft cheeks to smooth the young boy. Her beautiful face now in a frown.

“Shh… you can come hang out with me when you’re lonely at school.” (Your name) warmly smiled at Jesse. She ran her fingers through his thick curls as he sniffled.

“R-really? You’ll let me spend time with you?” Jesse’s voice trembled as he tried to calm his tears. “Can I eat lunch with you everyday? I like when you cut the crust off my sandwiches…”

“Of course, Jesse.” (Your name) reassured Jesse, who buried his face in her skirts once more. This sweet boy… he deserved love.

Unbeknownst to (your name), Jesse had a wicked smile on his sweet face that was hidden in her skirts.

Jesse may have been the spit image of Liam, but he was still his birth mother’s son… and (your name) would be his mommy one way or another.

Jesse often hogged (your name)’s attention from the other children. He’d rush to her first whenever class would start or end to hug her, he’d raise his hand for every question so he could be praised, and he’d constantly ask for help.

Jesse was not liked by the other children but he didn’t care all that much about them.

Because Jesse wanted his mommy to only have eyes for him.

Liam felt nervous at the florist shop he was in. The various floral displays of affection made his stomach twist into a knot. He was so nervous… to buy apology flowers for his son’s teacher.

Liam ran a hand through his dark hair with a sigh. This was an incredibly frustrating experience for him since he’s never bought a gift for a woman before. Especially not one as lovely as (your name). Liam couldn’t get her angry expression out of his head… she haunted his dreams and lingered in the crannies in his mind.

She was an itch he couldn’t scratch and Liam disliked this alien feeling she brought out. Liam didn’t know why his heart pounded in his chest at the thought of her or why his cheeks heated up. It made him anxious.

“And what can I help you with today, sir?” The florist smiled warmly at Liam who nearly jumped out of his skin. Liam had been so lost in his thoughts, the florist had caught him off guard.

“I think I would like a bouquet of roses…” Liam’s forest green eyes glanced at the red roses in interest. “The reddest ones you have.”

(Your name) would look lovely in red… Liam couldn’t help the image of her in a red dress that surfaced in his mind. He didn’t quite understand his attraction toward her, but he hoped it would fade.

Liam stood before (your name) in her classroom, his cheeks rosy as he studied her expression. Her arms held the fragrant roses in confusion.

“Mister Isbert? There was no need to get me roses-“

“I’m sorry for making presumptions about your character. It was unjust of me.” Liam bowed to (your name) in apology. “Please forgive me-“

Liam gasped when she moved closer to him, which and whom snap his head up in attention. His forest green eyes wide when she gave him such a warm smile… he’s never seen a smile like that directed toward him in his entire life.

“It’s perfectly okay. I understand you may have been through some trauma but I assure you I’m not after those sorts of things with you.” (Your name) then turned her gaze toward Jesse who peaked around the corner of the classroom. It seemed the young boy was eager to enter. “I’m just concerned for Jesse is all-“

“I do not know how to be a good father…” Liam shyly admitted, his forest green eyes focused on her confused expression. “I have never been taught warmth.”

“Well I have no issue teaching you how to spend time with a child… if you’d like of course, mister Isbert.” (Your name) smiled at Liam whose cheeks went aflame.

“I’d love to…” Liam cleared his throat and gave (your name) a soft smile. “And please, call me Liam.”

The two adults smiled warmly at each other which made Jesse perk up from his spot. Maybe he’d get her to be his mommy after all…

(Your name) laughed when Liam tried to tie Jesse’s shoe laces. The businessman was clueless…

“Here, let me help.” (Your name) gently took the shoelaces from Liam and slowly tied them in front of him. “The dragon goes under the bridge, through the loop, and into the castle!”

Jesse giggled at the rhyme, his eyes sparkled at his dad. “See! Mommy knows how to tie shoes!”

Liam blushed in embarrassment when (your name) and Jesse shared a laugh. He never knew how simple this was… how a family should be.

“Why don’t we read a book together?”

Liam glanced over at (your name) while she picked out a fairy tale. A ray of sunlight hit her at the perfect angle that made her even more angelic.

Liam never knew someone could be so beautiful…

Weeks went by of Liam’s ‘lessons’ of fatherhood. The two adults would laugh together as (your name) tried to teach him how to be more affectionate with his son, unaware that the businessman started to be affectionate with her as well… Liam came to terms that he loved her.

Liam loved the young woman who was eager to help him mend his relationship with his son and teach him how to love. To not take out his trauma onto Jesse and to be more open to change.

Liam became a better person by being around (your name) and he had no interest in going back to the way his life was before he got to know her better. The two of them were truly a power couple! She’s shown him a new side of life he never knew existed… who knew Jesse would indirectly introduce Liam to his soulmate?

Liam blushed as he sat at his desk, his head filled with thoughts of (your name). The image of her holding Liam in her arms burned in his mind.

How could someone look so perfect holding his child?

Liam dug into his desk drawer and pulled out one of the many drawing Jesse had made of (your name) and him. The three of them as a happy family.

Liam lit up a cigar and took a deep inhale of the smoke. Yes… he’d ask her to be his wife. To be Jesse’s mom.

Liam held the picture close to his chest. He needed to tell her how he felt… of how he loved her.

Liam upped security around the school as usual since he dropped by for the lessons. Liam wanted to ensure this entire ordeal remained private, he had no desire to add more stress onto poor (your name)’s life… today, they were gong to become an official family.

Liam sighed dreamily as he thought of what was about to happen today. (Your name) would be so beautiful as his wife and future mother of more children. He wondered how many siblings Jesse would like? To add onto their perfect family.

“Is there something wrong, Liam?” Liam perked up when (your name) softly called his name, she was careful not to disturb the sleeping Jesse in her arms. “You’ve been lost in space for a while now.”

“Would you be interested in dating me?” Liam’s blunt question nearly made (your name) fall over in shock. Date him? Where on earth did he get the idea that she wanted that sort of relationship with him?

“I don’t think we should.” (Your name) smiled warmly at Liam who frowned at her gentle rejection. “You’re a CEO of a big corporation and I’m just a measly kindergarten teacher.”

“I could take care of you.” Liam whispered softly. “You’d never struggle financially and you could be with Jesse every day. Don’t you want Jesse to be happy?”

(Your name) glanced down at the young boy who remained asleep. She did care about Jesse… but not enough to date his father.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that.” (Your name) sighed softly as she handed Jesse to Liam to take. “I hope you find someone on your level to be with, Liam.”

Liam could only sit on the floor in shock when she walked to her desk to gather her belongings. She didn’t want him? Why didn’t she want him?

Liam tried to speak but he couldn’t find the words to stop her. How could he tell her he’s never felt this way before? That he wanted her? That he-

“I love you!” (Your name) froze in the doorway when Liam blurted out his declaration of love.

“W-what-“ Liam scrambled to his feet to try to stand before her. His lithe body hovered over her like a shadow.

“I love you and I’ve never felt this way before… please give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Liam-“

“I won’t accept no as an answer.” Liam felt his stomach twist but he needed to get her to be his… he needed her. “I’ll ruin your life if you don’t accept my love. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you.”

Jesse stirred awake in Liam’s arms, the young boy’s eyes wide at his father’s words. “Become Jesse’s mom. I’m serious about being with you.”

“I-“ (your name) was cut off by Jesse who excitedly reached for her.

“Mommy? You’ll be my mommy?!” Jesse began to cry when he hands grabbed hers. “Mommy. Mommy!”

“Yes, Jesse.” Liam smiled down at Jesse as he pulled (your name) close. “Miss (last name) is going to be your mommy.”

“No-“ (your name) gasped when Liam suddenly bent down to kiss her which made Jesse smile brightly.

“We should head home, right?” Liam turned to Jesse who smiled brightly at his dad. “Like a happy family should.”

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dilemmaontwolegs · 4 months

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Irresistible || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

December 2019

Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.

“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”

He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.

“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”

“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”

Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”

Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.

You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”

A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”

“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”

“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”

He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”

August 2017

All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.

You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.

“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?”

You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before.

“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”

“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”

“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.

“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.

“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”

You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”

He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”

You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.

“Charles, dépêche-toi!”

You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.

“Well?”

You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”

“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”

“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”

You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him.

“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”

He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”

“The Fairmont.”

The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”

“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Your boyfriend?”

You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”

He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”

“Have you been to Jimmyz?”

“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.

“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”

January 2020

Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink.

You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.

The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.

“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.

“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”

August 2017

The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.

“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.

With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”

Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”

He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”

You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.

Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”

February 2020

You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.

“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.

The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”

“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.

She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.

“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”

“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”

August 2017

“Where are we going?”

Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.

“You live in a hotel?”

He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”

He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.

For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.

The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.

“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.

“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.

“What’s my name?” he repeated.

“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.

“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”

The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.

You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.

Giada: When are you coming home?

“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.

You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”

His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”

You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.

Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx

You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.

You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.

It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.

You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.

“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.

He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”

Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.

February 2020

You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away.

“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”

“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”

Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?”

“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”

You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping.

“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”

“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”

“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”

“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”

“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”

You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”

“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”

He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”

“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”

“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Asshole.”

“Biche.”

“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”

You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”

A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad.

“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”

“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”

Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too.

“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.

“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”

“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”

You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway.

“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”

“No, she prefers me with nothing on.”

You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Night, ma biche.”

It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.

“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”

You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply.

Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours.

Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water.

“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”

“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.

“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”

His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”

“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him.

You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”

“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.

“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”

“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”

Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys.

You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”

Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”

You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable.

Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”

His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.”

“She’s pretty.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.”

You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”

“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”

“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it.

“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”

“This is a bad idea.”

It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.

“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”

“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”

Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way.

“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”

He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”

The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand.

Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening.

“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv.

“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”

“Okay, and?”

His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”

“Why?”

He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.”

His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”

“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”

You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Good news or bad news first?”

You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.

“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?”

“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”

“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”

Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”

“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.

“This is going to be great.”

Click here for part two.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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woso-dreamzzz · 30 days

Text

Leaving II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your Career Grand Slam

Alexia didn't leave Spain a lot.

Apart from matches, she doesn't travel much.

Her life is simple. Practice, home, watch football, sleep. Repeat.

It takes a lot to get Alexia to break her routine but she happily does it for you.

She's curled up on her sofa under a blanket, eyes staring up at her tv as she watches the tennis. She's never found it interesting. She'd never enjoyed watching it but she put that aside for you.

On days when Mami couldn't and Alba was busy, she was left with the job of trekking halfway across the city with you to take you to your lessons.

You were so young back then, practically tiny with your little pigtails and a racket that was almost double the size of your head.

Loathe as she is to admit it, going to Poland has done you some good. You were always amazing at tennis but you've gained confidence that Alexia isn't used to seeing from you.

You're working harder than you ever have before and it shows.

You'd won the Australian Open in January. A win at the French Open rounded off your June. Most recently, you had won Wimbledon by the skin of your teeth and now you were at the US Open.

Alexia could practically see the beads of sweat dripping down your face as you served again, your shoulders rising and falling as you skidded across the court to hit the ball back at your opponent.

She winces every time, unable to keep her thoughts away from what would happen if you planted your leg wrong or if you slipped. The thought of you tearing your acl too haunts her.

You don't deserve that.

You don't deserve any injuries like that, her little sister who used to cry when Alexia got bumps and bruises and made sure to kiss them all for magic healing.

You stumble a little, just managing to volley the ball back over the net.

Alexia can see the hit to your confidence it gave you before you snap out of it and get back into the zone.

This is a semifinal and she knows that you want to win.

Tennis is a little more brutal than football, Alexia thinks.

There's no team to back you up. There's no other people to help you when you make a bad hit.

It's just you and your opponent and the ball you're hitting between you.

It's when you win that the anger bubbles up in your sister. She hadn't been expecting it. Honestly, she had been screaming at her screen in celebration as you finally take the set and win your place in the final.

Her fist was pumped in the air and the next moment she wishes it was punched against this girl's nose.

You'd just finished shaking your opponent's hand, a woman nearly double your age who congratulates you warmly, when you take off to the stands.

Your coach is sitting in his box and he fists bumps you, something you do back only in passing before you're crushing a girl into a hug.

Alexia freezes, ice spreading across her body as she stares.

You're not the most physically affectionate person. You're quite touch averse despite growing up with Mami and Alba willing to lather you in affection at a moment's notice.

For years, Alexia has been the only one whose touch you enjoyed. You had always curled into her like a little kitten. She was the only one that got to touch you like that, even way back when you were only six and getting skinned knees from tennis practice.

Watching you and this random girl on her tv screen fills Alexia with anger. She doesn't know why. She knows that it's wrong but she can't help it.

For years, she's been your rock, the one you came to when you needed a hug. This random girl hasn't known you nearly long enough to be touching you with such familiarity.

It's all Alexia can think about even as she sits on the plane journey from Barcelona to New York. She can't help but stew.

Nothing looked like it had changed when you last called her from Poland, a week before you flew out for the US Open. You hadn't mentioned sharing hugs with anyone else. You hadn't mentioned using anyone else as your substitute Alexia.

You don't mention anyone now as you practically tackle her into a hug, rapid Catalan spilling from your lips like every time you speak to her.

Alexia catches the girl from the semi-finals hovering over your shoulder and she frowns, brows drawing together as she watches the girl awkwardly shift on the balls of her feet.

"Who is your friend?"

You say her name but, truthfully, Alexia couldn't care less. Her eyes focus on the way you reach for this girl and lace your fingers together tightly.

She's never seen you do that with someone else before.

"-My girlfriend and-"

"What?"

Suddenly, her mouth is dry and her head is filled with cotton. Alexia prays she misheard.

"My girlfriend, Ale," You repeat before continuing on with your story," And we were running right down the street because those old dudes kept yelling at us. It's not my fault that they couldn't understand my accent."

You and your girlfriend start giggling like you've said something funny and Alexia gets the feeling that she should have been listening to the start of your story rather than glaring daggers at this stupid girl.

She smiles though, just so you don't realise that she hasn't been listening before she laces your fingers with hers and pulls you into her side again.

"I'm so proud of you," She says, brushing back your hair softly and cupping your face.

You lean into her with a smile, eyes sliding closed for a moment as you suck up her affection.

"Are you feeling ready?" She asks," This is a final. Do you feel in the right mindset?" Alexia cuts her eyes towards your girlfriend. You're still so young and you seem to want this so bad. She doesn't want any distractions for you.

"Can you help me get ready?" You ask softly and Alexia grins.

"Of course." A kiss is laid on your forehead and Alexia is brought back to your first game when you were still very little.

It was just a few kids playing and was hardly a tournament of any kind but Alexia had treated it like one for you. She'd done your hair that morning and helped you get dressed. She'd laced up your shoes and given you your racket.

It was something you did at every final now - a superstition that you both adhered to strictly.

It was strange to do this with an audience.

The girl - your girlfriend, Alexia sneers in her mind - is at home with herself in your changing room. She's in control of the music, something that you didn't even let Alexia do.

She tries to shake it off, this interloper in your space as Alexia stands behind you and does your hair.

Gone are the days where you would have it up in two pigtails. Now it's replaced with a braid and tied back with a headband to keep flyaways out of your eyes.

"I love you," She says as she ties off your braid.

"I love you too, Ale."

She kneels down in front of you before helping you slip on your shoes, lacing them both up tightly.

"I love you," She says after each of them.

"I love you too, Ale."

She cups your face and looks into your eyes.

"You're so talented," She says to you," You deserve this so much. You go out there and you try your very best, okay? It's just you on the court."

"Yes, Ale."

Her lips brush against your forehead and she teasingly tugs on your braid, laughing at the way your cheeks puff up just like when she used to do it to your pigtails.

You stand and grab your bag.

Alexia expects you to walk straight out onto the court but you stop in front of your girlfriend instead.

Your foreheads are pressed together and her hands are on your waist. You're whispering to each other. It's not the familiar Catalan that Alexia is so used to hearing from you but Polish instead.

It sounds strange in her ears as you murmur to this interloper, your lips brushing hers every so often before she pats your side and sends you on your way.

Alexia tries to avoid her as much as possible, quietly distraught that she has ruined the superstition that had won you so many finals before. This is your last big hurdle of the year, Alexia doesn't want to see you lose.

Somehow, though, Alexia ends up wedged between her Mami and this interloper. It would have been easier if she was between your girlfriend and Alba because any snide comment she made wouldn't be picked up but Mami had always been able to concentrate on watching you play tennis and lecture her other two daughters at the same time.

It was a scary talent which was why Alexia kept her mouth firmly shut.

She pretended this girl didn't even exist, this girl that had clearly taken advantage of the fact that you had no Alexia affection in Poland and latched onto you like a parasite.

Alexia plays her no mind, silently cursing her in her head as she watches you step onto the court.

This woman is older than you by at least ten years, maybe more but you hold up against her well, trading hits across the net.

The first set is perhaps the longest one that Alexia has ever sat through and it's enough to have everyone sitting up straight in awe.

Even Alexia, who will admit she knows next to nothing about tennis, will admit that it's clear both you and your opponent are giving it your all but, ultimately, you come out on top in the first set.

You look exhausted though as you take your break, wiping the sweat off your face and practically caning your water bottle when Alexia knows you should sip.

Your shoulders rise and fall and Alexia knows that you're fatiguing.

She knows that it's because of this killer first set and the blazing of the sun on your back but she blames your girlfriend.

If she hadn't interrupted your usual pre-game routine than none of this would have ever happened.

This idea is only solidified in your sisters mind when you drop the second set.

You look frustrated as you hydrate again, knee bouncing.

The women only go to best of three and you and your opponent are tired. There can only be one winner and, with the way that you're fatiguing, Alexia puts all the blame on your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who you've turned to look at with a little furrow in your brow. Your girlfriend who's smiling at you with an encouraging nod and a thumbs up that makes you produce the dopiest smile Alexia has ever seen.

You don't even look at her or Alba or Mami, just your girlfriend as you make your way back onto the court, bouncing up and down to ready yourself.

Alexia has no idea where all this energy has suddenly come from but you return the ball with vicious intensity that catches everyone off guard.

It's beautiful to watch, even more beautiful when she realises that you haven't conceded a point at all.

It's a beautiful moment as you fall onto your back when the umpire proclaims the match won.

You just lay there, arms splayed out on the court as your chest rises and falls in a pant. You've abandoned your racket next to you even as the box and crowd erupt into cheers.

You're crying, Alexia notices when you sit up and finally pull yourself to your feet, leaning over the net to shake your opponent's hand.

Tears streak down your face and you keep trying to wipe them away but more come. You make your way over to the box, reaching up to lace your fingers with your girlfriend's.

She's saying something to you, screaming really over the crowd but Alexia can't understand what she's saying.

You can though because a bubble of laughter forces its way through your tears and you nod.

Your other hand reaches up for Alexia's and she grabs it instantly, squeezing it like she did when you were little and just won your first game.

"Ale!" You say," I won!"

"Si, hermanita," She says," You did. I'm so proud of you."

"Go get your trophy," You girlfriend says with a beaming smile," We can put it next to all your others."

You look at her now and drop your sister's hand.

Alexia finds that she doesn't mind as much as your girlfriend leans down from the box and fists the front of your shirt, pulling you in for a kiss.

Though, she could have done without a front row seat to that.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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two-white-butterflies · 5 months

Text

silver spring | coriolanus snow | part two

Description: Coriolanus loses his family to war.

Pairing: young-president!coriolanus snow/wife!reader

Warning: childbirth, major character death, angst, reader is presumed to have died before the 74th hunger games.

part one

"Coriolanus," you whispered in the dead of night, feeling water trickle down your legs. "Yes?" he raised his eyebrows, eyes adjusting to the light. You were silent for another second. "Yes?" he repeated his question, believing that you were too afraid to speak.

"The child is coming," you groaned - feeling another wave of pain crash towards your hurting body. He bolts awake, not a flash of tiredness seen in his eyes. "Alira! Violet!" he called for your maids, another groan escapes your mouth.

"Coriolanus, calm down." you mumbled, taking the sheets off your lower body. He takes a shuddering breath, regaining his composure. "I am calm," he lied - and all the lights of the mansion began to open.

The first lady is giving birth!

It was his destiny to be haunted by all of the women he's loved before. His mother, Lucy Gray - you...?

The doctors always told him that your pregnancy was critical, that one mistake could cost your life. It was part of the reason why he distanced himself, he doesn't like to feel hurt - he doesn't want to vulnerable again. He sits outside of your shared room, the doctor arrived a few hours ago.

Are you trying to kill me, Lucy Gray!

He remembers screaming for that damned woman, even during the birth of his child - he couldn't help but think about her. He wonders if he stayed, would his life be different? He wasn't meant to be this - he wasn't born to be the President of Panem, he wasn't born to have all these powers - he took them from someone.

What would his life be like without that pain?

Maybe it was a small cottage, the smell of pumpkin soup - and Lucy. No, stop thinking about Lucy Gray. She's dead. You killed her, Corio.

He snaps out of his thoughts when Alira peeks her head through the door. "She wants you, President Snow." the woman informed, opening the door further until the gap was big enough for Coriolanus to enter.

He sees you laying there - eyes dull, and skin pale enough to see through. "Coriolanus," you called out to him, holding out a hand so that he may hold it. "Does it hurt?" he inquired reluctantly, afraid to show you even a tinge of care. "Very," you chuckled - the servants pull out a chair for him to sit. "- a pain worthy for a strong son." you added - forcing a smile.

Coriolanus couldn't help but smile back.

It was the first time that his smile reached his eyes.

"They've pumped me with enough meds to make a tiger sleep. It's making me drowsy," you continued with the conversation, hoping that it would distract you from the brain-shattering pain on your side. "It's good, you won't remember the pain after." he responded.

He could feel your grip tighten on his hand. You stare at him - forehead filled with sweat. He hates you. He tries to remind himself, but it was no use. How could he hate the mother of his child? How could he hate his wife?

"I wish that they just made me sleep - and cut my stomach open." you mumbled, feeling those tiny needles prick your spine. "The pain will go away, you should listen to the doctor." he mumbled, rubbing circles on your fist. "Gods be damned," you muttered - closing your eyes.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked, trying to distract you from the pain. The doctor told him that the gap wasn't big enough for the baby to come through. "Green," you answered quickly. "- it's the color of camouflage." you explained, bitting your lower lip.

"Ahh," you hissed, feeling another contraction. "What about you?" you opened your eyes to stare at his. "Orange," he answered. "- and brown." he added and you frowned. "But you always wear black." you observed, as if he was mourning for someone's death.

"It's a professional color," he responded, adjusting his collar. You chuckled through the pain - regretting it after you feel a short pain. "Why do you like those colors?" you inquired and he looked deep into your eyes. "Orange - because it is the color of the sunset. I was swimming when I saw it the first time." he remembered.

"And brown, because?" your eyes narrowed.

"They're the color of your eyes."

After a few minutes, the child began to come out.

You felt slightly nervous - afraid that it wasn't going to be the boy that Coriolanus desired. You postponed knowing about the gender due to this same fear. "Boy," the doctor informed in a monotone voice. "Brutus," you whispered out, reaching for the baby.

"Brutus Snow." you repeated, feeling his warm skin press against yours. "He is precious," Coriolanus whispered in a tone that only you could hear. "He looks just like me," you smiled, pressing a kiss to Brutus' forehead.

He looks at your sleeping form again, eyes shut and snoring. He smiles, rocking Brutus in his arms - close to his chest. He'll never love a woman deeper than the way he's loved Lucy Gray, but he's never loved a woman as deep as he loves you.

Brutus cooes, burrowing deeper into his father's arms.

Coriolanus couldn't wish for anything better.

Sure, there were many things that he regretted in this life - many things that could've turned out better, but if he could return and do it again - he wouldn't to it any different. All his mistakes led him to you - and to Brutus Snow.

Your eyelids flutter, awake and gazing up at him. "Coriolanus," you mumbled - also burrowing close to his chest. "I love you," you confessed and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too," he responds - although the following day he'll deny it and act oblivious. A smile etches your face.

Nothing else matters.

(CORIOLANUS SNOW'S EXECUTION)

"What do you think will happen after this? Our father will be executed but his government will still go on. You're not stopping the wheel. You're not changing anything." Abel intervenes, Brutus presses his palms together. "Whatever happens to father, he had it coming." the older brother replies. "You are delusional if you believe that Katniss is your pawn, she's dangerous." Abel hisses.

Brutus takes a sharp turn, hearing the drums from behind them. "- and you believe that you are safe? All because you love her?" his eyes narrowed in insult. Brutus decides to leave the conversation at that - he steps towards the podium. "Life is a peach, brother. Enjoy it as it is ripe and filled with flesh." Brutus angles his head, before facing the crowd.

"Welcome to the new Panem! Today, all of Panem - of free Panem will watch more than a mere spectacle. We are gathered to watch a historic moment of justice. Today the greatest threat to freedom shall be met with fire and end all wars. This day signifies the end of tyranny and the beginning of a new era."

"Mockingjay, may your aim be as true as your heart is pure." Brutus smiles, nodding at Katniss while raising his arms.

Abel looks at his father from below.

A cold man, but a man that loves his family nevertheless. Coriolanus lifts his head to look at his sons for the last time. Katniss draws her bow - an air of suspense permeates through the atmosphere.

Katniss aims her bow but changes the aim at the last minute, hitting President Brutus Snow.

Abel gasps.

He shares a glance with Katniss before the crowd storms in their direction.

Abel manages to get away - to run in another direction while the people rip his father piece by piece. It was the fall of Coriolanus Snow's dynasty, but in the face of that - all members couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

The fire continues to burn.

#Coriolanus Snow #Coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you

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coryosmin · 3 months

Note

Coryo gets home horny after a day of trying to hide it. He jerks off, but can't cum. Then reader arrives and he fucks her.

nsfw | mdni | modern au because i say so 😏😏 also it’s lawyer coryo but really it’s not important to the plot whatsoever

it had been such a long day and all coryo would think about was how much he wanted to fuck you. he had been hard all day, thinking about your pretty face and your plump lips wrapped around his cock. or the fact that he wanted nothing more than to push your head into the mattress while he fucked you harshly. so when coryo got home from work, he closed the door behind him and took his cock out, jerking himself off hard and fast for any sort of relief.

he moaned at the feeling, closing his eyes as he threw his head back against the door in pleasure. he thought about you and your soft thighs, dressed in that short lace black dress he loved seeing you wear. “oh fuck,” he moaned as he jerked himself off, thumbing the tip of his cock.

and as he felt the pressure in his abdomen building, he was ready for the release to happen. coryo wanted nothing more than to cum, to feel that relief he so desperately needed. and with a moan, he felt himself get closer until all of a sudden the feeling went away. he groaned in frustration, not understanding why he couldn’t cum. he just lost the momentum to do it, he supposed.

coryo stopped, breathing heavily but taking a deep breath. he was still so painfully hard but perhaps tonight he just wasn’t feeling it. he leaned off of the door, putting his cock away in his pants and zipping them back up as he made his way to the kitchen. he ran a hand over this face, still frustrated that he couldn’t get off when suddenly there was a knock on his apartment door. sighing to himself, coriolanus walked over to his door, opening it.

there you stood, the person who’s been haunting his thoughts all day, smiling so adorably while wearing a beautiful lavender purple dress. “hey,” he greeted thickly, feeling his cock throb at the sight of you. “didn’t think you were coming over tonight.”

you simply grinned up at coriolanus. “thought i’d surprise you,” you said, holding up a bottle of wine and a bag signaling takeout.

coriolanus let out a small breathless chuckle, moving to the side to let you into the apartment. “a woman that knows her way to my heart,” he said simply.

you walked into the apartment, making your way to the kitchen to put the things down before looking over at coriolanus who had followed you. he looked worn out and tired, the stress from his job definitely taking a toll on him today. you couldn’t help but glance down, seeing the prominent boner he had. you blushed before clearing your throat. “you have bit of an issue there, love,” you said, looking up at your boyfriend.

“mmm” he said, nodding his head as he walked over to you, taking you into his arms. “been so hard all day thinking about you,” he murmured into your ear. “tried to relieve it but i couldn’t get myself off.”

you cooed in sympathy, wrapping your arms around coriolanus. “well…maybe we can go to the bedroom and i can see what i can do to help you?” you whispered back, looking up at coriolanus.

coriolanus nodded his head, giving a small smile. “i’d like that,” he replied before kissing your lips. you kissed coriolanus back, the two of you moving together in sync. after a few minutes of kissing, coryo tapped your leg before moving to lift you up. you wrapped your legs around his torso as he held you close, his lips never leaving yours as he began walking to his bedroom.

you both entered the bedroom, your lips still attached to one another’s. coriolanus walked over to the bed, pulling away from the kiss and gently placing you down. you sat down at the edge, looking up at coriolanus, who was looking down at you. “want you inside me so bad, coryo,” you sighed, toying with them hem of your dress.

“yeah?” he said, undoing his tie. “want to bury myself inside of you so badly, baby.”

you pull your dress off of yourself, tossing it to the side. you weren’t wearing a bra, only a pair of lavender lace panties. “take me how you want to take me,” you said. “want to make you feel so good.”

coryo let out a breath, his cock hurting in the confines of his suit pants as he looks at you. fuck you’re just so hot. he’s been so hard all day, practically edged himself earlier. he just wanted nothing more than to bury himself in your cunt and forget about the stress that is being a lawyer.

“not gonna prep you,” coryo said, throwing his shirt on the floor before unzipping his pants. “i need to be inside of you.” he took them off quickly as well as his boxers, not caring about how desperate he seemed.

you smiled at his words, taking your panties off. “that’s okay, i can take it,” you said. “how do you want me, coryo?”

“head down, ass up,” he said bluntly, looking at you. he couldn’t help stroking his cock a few times to try and relieve the ache. his cock was so red and angry, desperately needing some sort of release. you obliged, turning over so that your knees were digging into the mattress, your ass in the air. “fuck, baby, you’re so hot.” he sighed, smacking your left butt cheek as he used his right hand to guide his cock to your pussy. he teased you slightly, spreading the wetness around with the tip, causing you both to let out small moans.

coriolanus slowly eased his cock inside of you, letting out a loud groan at the feeling. he had been thinking about this all day, burying himself inside of you and fucking you harshly. and now he’d finally be able to do it. you let out a whine at the feeling of coryo’s cock inside of you, the stretch stinging slightly due to how big he was. coriolanus bottomed out, only waiting a minute for you to adjust before taking his cock out and thrusting it back into you harshly.

you let out a moan, gripping the sheets as coryo began fucking you. “fuck, so wet and tight,” he moaned out. his pace had quickened, showing how truly desperate he was to cum. he let out a whimper as he buried himself deep inside of you. you whimpered too as his cock hit your cervix.

“so big, coryo,” you moaned out. “love it so much.”

coriolanus’s hips continued their harsh pace as he fucked you. “yeah? you love my cock, baby?” he asked, his voice shaky due to moving a lot. “love your pussy so much. always so tight and wet for me, fuck.” he felt that familiar heat in his abdomen, letting out a desperate whine as he moved so that he was kneeling on the bed, his cock hitting deeper inside of you.

you let out a loud moan, arching your back in pleasure as coryo fucked you. you felt yourself getting close, your walls clenching around his cock.

“fuck baby, i-“ he doesn’t finish his sentence as he moans, his orgasm hitting him hard as he continues fucking you. he lets out a sob of pleasure, grateful that he finally could have that relief as ropes of cum filled your pussy.

you gasped, cumming around coriolanus’s cock as he came inside of you. your thighs clenched together, your body quivering as you came.

and when you both came down from your highs, coriolanus kept himself buried inside of you as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing kisses onto your back. “oh my god,” he whispered, moving his hips ever so slightly still, relishing in the orgasm he had just had. after a few minutes, he pulled out, moving to lay down next to you.

“feel better?” you breathed out, laying your head on coriolanus’s chest. he wrapped his arms around you.

“much better,” he whispered in response. “definitely gonna fuck you again in a few minutes.”

you laughed, nodding your head. “sounds like a plan.”

#minsasks #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #coriolanus snow #thg tbosas #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 7 months

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‘Our Flag Means Death’: How Blackbeard & Stede’s Fantastical Underwater Reunion Came Together

[Warning: The below contains MAJOR spoilers for Our Flag Means Death, Season 2, Episodes 1-3.]

It doesn’t take more than a single second to recognize Kate Bush‘s haunting and heartbreaking tune “This Woman’s Work,” as Blackbeard, a.k.a. Ed (Taika Waititi), is pushed from a clifftop to plunge into the ocean’s depths below in Our Flag Means Death‘s Season 2 installment, “The Innkeeper.” But how did the pirate heartbroken over Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) wind up in this position? It’s a delicate and winding path that starts with the infamous pirate’s unraveling over the course of the latest season’s first two episodes.

Believing Stede intentionally abandoned him after planning to run away together at the end of Season 1, Blackbeard embraces the version of himself so many have conjured up in their minds as he leads the Revenge’s “new” crew to pillage and plunder on the high seas. His unhinged behavior eventually forces Jim (Vico Ortiz), Izzy (Con O’Neill), Frenchie (Joel Fry), Archie (Madeleine Sami), and Fang (David Fane) to violently take control of the ship and neutralize Blackbeard — or so they think — after he steers them directly into a storm.

When Zheng Yi Sao’s (Ruibo Qian) Red Flag happens across an eerie-looking Revenge on the ocean, Stede dives overboard in his excitement over the possibility of seeing Ed, only to be told various excuses for his absence by the crew aboard. When Stede directly addresses Izzy regarding Blackbeard’s lack of presence, the now peg-legged pirate claims the Revenge crew dropped Ed on a beach.

This seems to ring true as we see Blackbeard wash ashore and cared for by his own former captain Hornigold (Mark Mitchinson). While together, Blackbeard and Hornigold discuss the mutiny that took place and Blackbeard’s hopes for the future. When a role-playing scenario testing Blackbeard’s ability to be an Innkeeper, a profession he’s interested in, goes awry, he attacks Hornigold, killing the tarp-clad pirate. But when Hornigold rises again, Blackbeard realizes something is off.

Aboard the Revenge, Ed’s body is uncovered below deck. Believing him dead, Zheng Yi Sao is forced to consider killing the Revenge crew for mutiny after initially welcoming them aboard the Red Flag. And Stede has to cope with the idea that his love may be gone forever.

After hatching an escape plan for the Revenge team, Stede and pals return to their former ship, leaving Zheng stranded without a wheel. Going to sit with Ed’s body, Stede wonders why he had to go and get himself killed. Meanwhile, Blackbeard begins to realize he’s stuck somewhere between life and death, a place this Hornigold manifestation calls a “gravy basket.”

As the two men banter about the pros and cons of choosing life over death, Hornigold ties a boulder around Ed’s waist and throws it from the cliff they’re standing on, pushing Blackbeard into the ocean. Just as it seems as though he’ll succumb to the waves, Blackbeard proves Bush’s song right: Perhaps there’s a little life in him yet. When Stede lifts the cloth from his face on the Revenge, underwater Ed reacts to the change. Peering into the water, he sees a light from which a fantastical mermaid version of Stede emerges.

In the real world, Stede reacts to Blackbeard’s twitching hand, taking it in his and pleading for him to live as a montage of their moments together rolls alongside Bush’s still-playing song. The final seconds of the episode see Ed’s eyes open, giving Stede hope.

So, how did this moving turn of events come to pass? A team full of creatives was responsible for bringing the captivating and satisfying reunion.

Stede’s Mermaid Tail

“It’s a huge process,” putting together Stede’s practical mermaid look, according to costume designer Gypsy Taylor. She says “it started with me begging everybody” to avoid visual FX and make a tail for the sequence. The orange and glittering look could have followed several different styles, but ultimately, Taylor notes, “I thought if Stede is going to turn into a mermaid, and it’s in Blackbeard’s dream, it’s sort of his vision of a mermaid.”

Considering this, in Taylor’s mind, Blackbeard wouldn’t envision some epic fantastical creature; instead, Stede would “just be like a goldfish. He’d just be like a sweet harmless goldfish.” In putting sketches together of the ensemble, Taylor acknowledges the symbolism of the goldfish motif: “There’s a huge Chinese element that we have coming through, and goldfish in Chinese culture is considered lucky.” As this vision of Stede was responsible for helping bring Ed back to life, that luck was certainly there.

“I thought that was a pretty beautiful thing, that they meet each other under the ocean and then they find each other,” Taylor gushes. “And so I went a little deep on that, but really he’s just a goldfish.” In order to achieve the goldfish mermaid look, Taylor teamed up with props master Hayley Egan, who’s based out of Australia. “She happens to excel at making mermaid tails,” Taylor shares.

After securing Egan’s involvement, Taylor says, “We fit Rhys in a jumbo stretch long skirt and made sure it was really tight so he could still sort of do this dolphin [swimming] action. And then we bought these mono fins, which you can purchase online and put your feet in.” Safety was key, though. “He had to swim really deep and for a really far distance, and he’d never done anything like that before,” Taylor explains. “So it had to be really safe and doable.”

Once that was figured out, Taylor says Egan “cast something like 3,000 hand-sculpted silicon scales. There’s something like five kilograms of glitter in the whole thing. And then we hand-dyed pleated chiffon for all the fins, so that when he was swimming through the water, it would have this magic feel.”

While the scene may play as emotional and romantic, the story behind getting Stede’s mermaid look from Australia to New Zealand was actually quite comical. “[Egan] sliced two suitcases in half, filled [them with the mermaid tail], and then when it went through customs, the customs guy said to her, ‘Are you bringing fish into this country?’ And she’s like, ‘Yes, yes I am.'”

In total, there were four tails, including “a practice tail, a stunt tail, because Rhys had to do quite a few lessons before we got the real one on. And the real one was super precious, and chlorine’s very strong, it eats fabrics away, so we wanted to save the hero one for the hero shot,” Taylor reveals. When it came time to film, “We put him in [the tail], and it was just amazing.” In order to get Darby into the pool, Taylor says a ramp had to be built and the actor was placed in a wheelchair while costumed “and pushed in.” As unglamorous as it sounds, she adds, “it was like Rhys’s dream come true.”

How Kate Bush Entered the Music Mix

It’s safe to say Kate Bush has been having a moment on TV since last year’s “Running Up That Hill” needle drop on Stranger Things, but music supervisor Maggie Phillips says, “This Woman’s Work” was selected before Netflix‘s hit made headlines with their use of the aforementioned song. “When we were placing [the song in the season lineup],” Phillips says, “it was maybe weeks after Stranger Things, and I was worried that we would look like copycats.”

Phillips maintains that the song was in the mix before, but it ultimately “doesn’t matter because really what matters is that Kate Bush is a queen and more and more people need to know her music.”

She says, “From what I heard from David [Jenkins], it was a song that Taika was attached to.” At first, Phillips was reluctant to go with the song due to its prior uses, but “David told me not to worry about [that], that people have short-term memory when it comes to music.”

While she debated with the team over cutting it, “[David] has the visuals in his mind. I don’t. I’m just hearing it with a script and I had no clue how it was going to work until I saw the first cut, and it was beautiful and they picked a part of the song that worked really well with the visuals, so they sort of made it their own,” Phillips explains. “They added a different context to the song that I wouldn’t have been able to imagine myself. So they proved me wrong for sure.”

It’s hard to imagine the scene without Bush’s song. “It changes the way you listen to the song,” Phillips notes. “I got chills watching it and I know that song so well and haven’t gotten chills like that in a long time.” With all of the buildup, “You’re waiting for them to have their romantic moment. You’re waiting for three episodes for that to happen. And so it’s so cathartic when that song comes on, and you see them come together in this fantasy world under the sea. It’s just perfect.” This led her to email Jenkins. “I was like, ‘You were right. I was wrong. But this was beautiful, and thank you so much.'”

Blackbeard’s Wet Wig Woes

Anyone watching the scene unfold would have to notice Blackbeard’s silver tresses weaving through the water, a feat much more difficult behind the scenes than the seemingly simple sequence onscreen. “We filmed that quite late in the season, and so we were really planning and thinking about that all the way through [filming]. I was a bit nervous,” hair and makeup designer Nancy Hennah admits. “I knew that he was going to have to be under the water with his wig on for quite a long time.”

Even with high-quality wig glue, Hennah says, “You can do everything you can to make that wig stay on, but there’s a limited amount of time that the glue will last. So we had to use different products than we would normally use to get the wig down.” Because the product Hennah normally uses to keep hair back in a wig is water soluble, “it melts, and the hair starts coming out from the lace, and it can ruin the whole look of the wig.” She had to come up with a creative fix.

“I glued his own hair back, and then we glued the lace on top of that, and wildly, it lasted right until the very last shot when they were dragging him through the water by the ankles,” Hennah reveals. “The wig just came off completely after they’d finished shooting. And so he came up out of the water, and the wig was off to the side, [and he goes], ‘I think my wig came off.'” She calls the success of the wig “incredible” and “just a fluke really.”

When it came to capturing Darby’s underwater look, it was all about blending the mermaid tail with his skin. “With Stede, Gypsy had a beautiful mermaid tail made, and we did a whole lot of practice with different types of silicon and things that we had to blend that piece between his skin and the tail. We made these pieces of silicon with glitter and things in them that we individually stuck over the top of the mermaid tail,” Hennah details.

Again, there were concerns about getting “things to stick underwater,” but watching the scene come together from behind the camera eased those. “[When] we were standing there on the set that day and watching the monitor, it just was so beautiful that we were all blown away by it, and that tank that they were filming in was a couple of stories deep, and to be out there in that water, it was challenging, and they both did so well. It just went off without a hitch. It was one of those great days where it just worked for everybody.”

Don’t miss what else is in store for the season. Stay tuned for additional interviews and content as the second season of Our Flag Means Death unfolds.

Our Flag Means Death, New Episodes, Thursdays, Max

Source: TV Insider

#rhys darby #taika waititi #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #costume designer #costume details

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0strawberrysorbet0 · 24 days

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𝐴 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒!𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is a series so if you'd like to be tagged simply just comment!

Not too happy with this chapter but hope it's good enough 😕

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Resposts and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Part one ← Part two → Part three

Summary: When Charlie is called to heaven for a meeting instead of her father she is ecstatic but she meets a boy with some very familiar features..

Warnings: cursing, Adam mentioned, rlly weird layout, idk what else, probs spelling mistakes and weird grammer

Where am I??" Was the only thought coursing through the boy's mind?

He couldn't hear anything but his thoughts, everything else was muffled as if he was underwater, he strolled mindlessly throughout the forest, there were lush plants and exotic flowers of every tone and shape.

He could see birds and insects, things they did not have in his new home...

As he walked forward, it was like he was being pulled, like he didn't control it...

He heard a voice call for him...

"ƙׁׅյׁׅ݊ꪀյׁׅժׁׅ݊ᝯׁׅ֒꯱ dear?? Where-" was all he heard, voice silencing before he heard a yell...

He couldn't make out words but he heard a male's voice shout, who were they shouting for??

As he stumbled through the thicker, darker patch of forest he reached a tree, an apple, sparkling and juicy, shaped like a heart hung from a branch. Just as he went to grab it,

someone clung to the skin on his leg.. Or something.. Biting down on his flesh.. His pale skin turned pink and oozing a cherry-coloured syrup.

As he turned to see the blood dripping he shot up, dripping in a cold sweat as his face whitened.

That dream. Again.

It had been haunting him, it happened every so often but now more than ever. It was always the same.

He wanders, a woman calling for someone and a man screaming then sees the Apple and tries to grab it before being bitten. Then waking up before being able to see the creature.

But what was it?.. He sat up on his bed, grabbed a yellow shoebox from under his bed, he placed it onto his milky white duvet.

He peeled the lid off the box, revealing a little rubber duck... He didn't know where it was from but he had had it for as long as he could remember, there were a few photos of him and his friends... Mainly Emily.

There were a few random things, buttons and feathers, but he finally found what he was looking for, a folded sheet of parchment. He opened it revealing a drawing of the forest, mainly the path he walked and the paths he could see.

He took out the red pen and drew the figure of a woman, shouting... He couldn't see the figure's face or features but he could tell it was a woman.

His father could never see this, nor Sera. They'd think he was plotting against something.. Which he'd never do. He wasn't a monster.

At the bottom of the box was a small gift from Emily, a little box that had been wrapped with gold ribbon. Inside was an apple... An actual real apple.

He hadn't a clue where she got it but it was gorgeous. So shiny and juicy, plump and red, a delicious bloody red...

He had never understood why they were forbidden anyways, yes because of The Fall but surely the fruit wasn't the problem..

He couldn't blame Eve.

He wouldn't have resisted either.

His silence was broken by knocking on his door. "(M/N)? Son? I'm heading off to my meeting, there's some food on the table, take care!"

It was his dad, it was thoughtful of the man to let him know he was leaving but it scared the boy shitless.

He got himself dressed and got to work on his heavenly duties, he strolled through a building, looking for Emily, he had to tell her about his dream.

As he walked past a meeting room he could hear a familiar screeching voice, Adam.

And a voice he hadn't heard before?.. A young girl? Whatever. It wasn't Emily so it didn't matter, he continued to walk until the voice got louder, almost like it was behind him

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!"

Miss? He turned to see the person who had been shouting, it was a girl.

She had red glowing eyes with the sclera being a strong yellow color.

Her hair was the same straw blonde colour as his hair, it was tied up into a strange ponytail, in circular shapes almost, she was wearing a blood-red suit and her cheeks were rosy and pink.

What a strange angel... She didn't even look like an angel...

He just turned and continued to walk, going to find Emily.

..............................................................................................

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven and ruled by beings of Pure light, Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil..." A blonde girl read aloud,

As she flicked through the pages she looked at the part in between the section where Lucifer and Lilith tempted Eve and the banishment.

It was burnt, the small gap, unnoticeable at first glance, but with the number of times she had read it, she could tell someone had burnt out a few pages, burning part of the story...

"Charlie?" Her girlfriend said at the doorframe, an extermination had just happened, she looked out the window at the burning city.

She needed to put a stop to this, these sinners surely didn't deserve it. Well at least some of them.

The day seemed to melt away quickly, they had talked about commercials and... Well they all had some unique ideas...

Her phone started to ring, and she jumped up and went to answer it.

It was her father? Strange... He never called.

But he wanted her to go to heaven instead of him? Holy shit... Maybe she could change heaven's mind after all...

Before she knew it she was there, heaven..

When Charlie arrived she noticed how pristine everything was, light, bright, the place was practically blinded by white light.

She now stood before The Adam, or as he called himself (much to her dismay) The original dick. She had put all the ideas she could (before he'd interrupt) onto the table but they smushed it all.

To sum it up... The meeting went horribly. She had not only been turned down but completely ignored. Her whole life she had believed angels to be kind, caring creatures... There was a reason they made it up there after all.

But she wasn't so sure now. She wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

As she was leaving she saw a pair of wings stroll past the door, they were full and stuck out proudly, glowing a bright white. The feathers looked almost like cotton candy as they surfed the breeze, one or two floating off.

One had dropped at her feet. She picked it up before trying to get a look at the angel, they had long blonde hair, and she presumed it was a woman.

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!" She shouted about the feathers, maybe the angel would need them? Or maybe she just wanted to see the angel's face. She couldn't tell but she felt somewhat connected to the being.

The angel turned gracefully, piercing eyes staring through her, beautiful, beautiful eyes, they were the colour of a rich berry, a beautiful purple, like a flower, soft and delicate. Yet the angel's stare could have ripped her in half by that alone.

Charlie stood there, not making a sound so the angel turned around. Bored with her it walked off through the corridor.

She needed to know who this was and why they looked like her mother.

..............................................................................................

"I still dunno what ya mean by 'she looked like my mother' toots, who are ya even talkin' about again?" Angel replied, pouring himself another drink as Charlie told the spider demon bout the meeting and her encounter with the angel.

"I'm telling you!! She looked just like my mom!" She said, waving a picture of her mother in front of Angel's face.

"Jeez, okay calm! I get it!" He slapped the picture away "Why are ya so bothered though?"

"I don't know. I just felt connected to her.. " she said, petting Keekee, who curled into her lap and purred at the affectionate touch.

"For all you know it might've not even been a girl, just let it go toots" he took a big swing of his drink before pouring another drink.

"I'm telling you I feel connected to them, I... I know they looked like my mother." She sighed.

Hopefully, she'd be able to go up to heaven soon, to win them over and to see that angel again.

Tag list - @demstarno @kenny-619 @bunbunboysworld @lovedesperatevampire

@honey-valentin3 @type-ink

#hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel angel dust #fanfic #hazbin hotel emily #male reader #son!reader #enjoy!!#A Hidden Star #fantiction #x reader

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lokisgoodgirl · 6 months

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A Long Way Down: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (3) Following Loki's indecent proposal, you get yourself into a treacherous situation. Or maybe two. Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut references. Ex-Loki. Mild peril. Mild angst. Pining. Oh god, the pining. (w/c 4.6k) Recommended Folklore Track: This Is Me Trying

At around five AM, you had accepted that two hours was the maximum amount of sleep that fate had intended for you that night.

The sight of Loki draped across your doorway greeted you every time you closed your eyes.

The moon-slicked skin which begged to be grasped so tightly it bruised, if only for a short time. Those sharp angles in his jawline which fitted so perfectly between your legs. No.

Slipping out of bed, you manoeuvred on your clothes. Natasha would be proud, you thought, grabbing your gloves. Sufficiently bundled, you began the descent down the murky darkness. Of ten stairs, miraculously only four creaked. You paused after every one, listening for a stir from one of the bedrooms. But none came. Since you had slammed the door on Loki, your mind had been a beehive. You had lain there, trying not to move, trying to sleep, trying to think about anything but him. But his velvet voiced temptations and audacity wound around your thoughts like the cottage’s ivy. Wilting like a woman ravaged by thirst with a river rushing on the other side of that traitorous wall.

You hastily scribbled a note in the kitchen, grabbed the spare key and a small rucksack from the hallway hooks. Crisp cold hit like a slap as you opened the door and slipped through. The latch clicked closed.

It sounded like freedom.

A wide circle from the flashlight led your way, noting familiar moss-covered fenceposts and scattered stone path. You took a right at the boundary, seeing the milky promise of a red sunrise ghosting over the mountain. It would be a three hour round-trip to the top of Blencathra, you reckoned. Back in time for breakfast. As you walked, weak sunlight began to crawl the hedgerows. Frosted orange leaves underfoot became wetter. Like cornflakes, you mused, left too long in milk.

You’d had the same observation last autumn when Loki had walked beside you through Central Park, his gloved hand in yours. He’d interrupted with a familiar elaborate description of the palatial breakfasts he’d been served on Asgard. One you’d heard a hundred times before. ‘Every day, mountains of succulent fruit from the god-tree; warm date loaves and bread so glossy it reflected the very sun-” ‘-with the almond glaze.’ you’d muttered knowingly, the implication clear. His grin had widened obliviously.

‘With the almond glaze. Much superior to the cereals so favoured in this realm. I don’t know why humanity puts up with such trash, no wonder you’re all so...someone should do something.’

Loki was a lot of things. He was wild, and powerful; passionate and imposing. He was fiercely loving with kindness that ran as a hot spring runs beneath unforgiving glaciers. When he wanted it to.

His adoration was intoxicating, addicting in a way you had never experienced. When he saw you, he saw only you. Like no other creature existed. The haze had filled you like opium, drunk to all the condescending commentary that chipped at the exterior until it cracked.

And when it cracked, it shattered.

Memories of his dark curls sprawled across your pillow haunted you, the feel of silken strands cutting into your fingertip as you twirled it. He had never been good at keeping to his side of the bed. The words that he whispered when the world wasn’t watching, meant only for you. It seemed like a dream now. And maybe it was.

Perhaps it always had been.

The warmth in his eyes as his thumb caressed your jawline still smouldered as hopeful embers in the depths of your heart. They longed for him, biding their time like jackals in shadows to drag you back to his arms.

And wanting him, that hadn’t left. You doubted it ever would. Loving Loki was a high. And it was a long way down.

If only he could just act like a normal human being, you thought as you drew the wind-breaker further up your throat. And there, you laughed bitterly to yourself in the eerie quiet, is the problem.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. Or was it? You could never tell. And that doubt ate away at you like mice at the skirting boards.

The cold distance between you had been necessary. Self-preservation. And besides occasionally missing the mischief you created together, you doubted he thought of you much at all. The world was full of fawning mortals, after all. He never tired of pointing that out. You certainly doubted he lacked for company.

The thought made you feel queasy. ‘Love’, he’d once mused, ‘is different for a god. We don’t love as you humans do.’

He had paused, snapping his book closed as you lay in his lap before planting a placatory kiss on your nose.

‘You wouldn’t understand’, he’d murmured. And despite your coaxing, that had been the end of it.

It was for the best. That’s what you told yourself when that twisting heartache reared in the dead of night.

But still, you wished you’d had one last kiss, even if you’d known that’s what it was. You looked up at the moon, peeling from the sky and disappearing beneath early-morning mist as you walked briskly towards the mountain’s craggy steep. One last kiss before the lights went out.

As soon as the regrettable words had left Loki’s lips, he knew he’d fucked up. The door-slam was loud. Very loud. And he couldn’t go back to his room, not in his condition. Especially under the circumstances. In the darkness he had picked his way downstairs, cat-like, and had an angry wank in the bathroom. It was perfunctory and mostly silent. And Loki cursed his blasted impatience with every rough tug of his hand. Feeling raw, but more clear-headed, he sat in the living room a while. Moonlight threw a milky hue against the furniture. The carpet almost looked clean under its forgiving sheen. It may have been mice, but he was sure that he could hear the hushed, girlish chatter of his brother and Rogers upstairs, their theories abounding. With growing horror, Loki realised that his brother had been right about not one, but two things that night.

First, that the demise of you and he’s relationship was indeed his doing. The look in your eyes as he presented himself like a charmless commoner had made that abundantly clear. And secondly, the repugnant reclining chair on which he sat was indeed, very comfortable. Thankful at least for the latter, Loki fished down the side for a blanket he’d seen earlier. He sniffed it suspiciously, before throwing it to drape down over his feet. Something about the ragged, scratchy edging made him feel closer to you. Penitent, almost.

Shall I wear sackcloth and ashes, would that suffice?

The thought came intrusively, but behind his subconscious theatrics, there was a morsel of truth. There was something about this place. And there was something about you in it. Perhaps there was something about him too. Something new being birthed, clawing for freedom against scar tissue of old wounds. His brother’s voice played in his mind. ‘Well that could mean all manner of things, brother.’ he’d said. ‘You are insufferable.’ The god closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Perhaps, he thought, I should be thankful for that too. It meant he may be able to fix it. Loki slept soundly in the ugly chair. So soundly, that he didn’t hear the creak of footsteps that came before the first shards of daybreak, nor the soft close of a drawer, nor the click of the latch as you slipped outside into the dark morning alone.

You felt upwards, pads of your fingertips scratching against rough, uneven stone. Searching. The ridge was steeper than you’d anticipated. And you’d been so distracted by winning the imaginary shouting-match going on in your brain, that you had made the most basic error a climber could make. And the most serious.

Your fingers grasped around a jut of rock, feet slipping. Pressing your back against the opposite rockface, you glanced upwards to a large overhang on the ridge that somehow you hadn’t spotted. A chill sliced through your belly as you realised there was no way up. And there was no way down. Your boot slipped against the ledge, making you brace. Fuck fuck fuck. Even Steve wouldn’t make that drop without a couple of broken legs. Or worse. You were stuck. No, not stuck. Fucking crag-fast.

Tears welled in your eyes, a giggle of panicked disbelief threatening low in your middle as you tilted your chin to the sky. The ridge was cut into the mountain, and beyond the overhang, heavy dark clouds were gathering at alarming speed. No one knew you were here. You were fucked.

Closing your eyes, you focused on steadying your heart-rate. ‘Breathe, love’ Loki used to whisper as he stroked your hair. The beat of your heart slowed to a faint thump. The distress widget. Your eyes flew open. Steve had insisted that everyone have an alarm built into their belt, to be worn at all times. It didn’t seem so silly now.

Tentatively, you removed one hand from the rough ridge-face, the crumbling stones beneath your feet making it fly back immediately. You could feel the alarm at the base of your spine, no bigger than a jeans button. If you could just...press it.

Slowly, you began to wiggle your hips back and forth; trying to catch it on something. It caught, a low beep making your heart soar. “ACTIVATE,” you yelled. More stone pellets fell like dried rice. You could only pray Steve had the receiver nearby.

Time passed as a crawl. The sun had risen but somehow, it was still dark. Everything ached. Had it be three minutes or three hours? You were sure the pain in your limbs would be the same either way. How could I be so fucking stupid, you raged silently. At some point, you’d begun to cry.

Had you actually pressed the distress button? Fear fluttered in your stomach. Despite the chill and growing winds, you could feel a uncomfortable damp gathering beneath your clothes. Steve was going to be so pissed when he turned up. If he turned up. More crumbles of rock scattered around your forehead from above. It was followed by a low chuckle. “I can think of easier ways to get me alone, Agent.” Your neck snapped up, not believing your eyes.

Loki sat casually on his haunches atop the overhang, wrists falling between his knees. His thighs were spread, emerald leather looking viscerally luscious against the darkening sky. Dark hair whipped around his brow, his eyes flashing downward as a smile twisted one side of his mouth. “I’m stuck,” you whimpered.

Loki’s smile grew. He tutted. “Not just stuck, Agent. Crag-fast, I believe is the term.” You released an exasperated sigh. “Does it matter?” “Well it was right in Rogers briefing pamphlet. In the hazards section, nestled between blue-green algae and wayward tourists.”

You stared at him, thinking violent thoughts.

“Are you wearing your armour?” you spat. “Your not supposed to be...Loki, just-” Your feet slipped again.

“-for your rescue Madam? Only full regalia will do.” The dazzling smile which accompanied his words made you want to punch him in the face.

“Just fucking get me out of here!”

Loki’s face changed, the mirth in his eyes melting to something akin to concern. “Alright, alright…I am simply attempting to lighten the mood-” he muttered, reaching down. His arm glinted gold, its normal brilliance dulled by the shrouded sun. With all the strength you had, you reached up. You could feel your feet give out below you just as Loki’s hand wrapped around your bicep. With one fell swoop he heaved you upwards, suspended in the air before you fell upon him.

Loki rolled back, gathering you close to his chest. His palm cupped the back of your skull, the other hand safely pressed to the base of your back. You were vaguely aware of the scrape of his boots against the rock as he drew up his legs, the perfect cage of your protection.

“You’re safe now,” he breathed quietly to the sky. His heart was thundering, thuds pulsing through his breastplate. You nodded, silent sobs thrumming your body just as the first drops of rain began to fall.

Thirty minutes later, you and Loki had finally descended the ridge. He had managed to source an easier path with only the most necessary of communication. It had been slow, an ever-present pang in your ankle making you wince when the god’s back was turned. Confident that all your concentration was no longer needed, you decided to ask the question. “Why did you come?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you grimaced. How could you think about them for so long, yet still find the wrong ones? Loki glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m grateful you did-” you grovelled. “I mean, Steve made such a big deal about the whole belt button thing I just wondered why he sent you? Didn’t think he’d miss the chance to give me a lecture the whole way home.” You stared at the back of Loki’s head, swallowing. Rain was falling harder now, rustling patter crinkling against your jacket. “Rogers didn’t send me,” the god said coldly, still walking forwards. “I suspect he’s still tucked up under those abysmally threaded bedsheets.”

You hobbled faster, catching up to him. “What do you mean?” “I was downstairs. The receiver was in the kitchen.” You let your eyes wander over the sprawling landscape. Thirlmere lake lay flat in the distance, a grey mirror to the sky. “Why was it in the kitchen?” you mused absent-mindedly. “Well I don’t know, Agent” Loki spat. “Perhaps Rogers wasn’t anticipating a member of our party sneaking out before dawn on a misguided attempt at independence.” “And what’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped, stare burning into Loki’s profile as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Nothing. It means nothing.” he muttered. His eyes scanned the horizon. It was a long way down. “Don’t be like that-” “Like what, Agent?” Loki fumed, spinning with a flourish which made the cut of his leathers swirl around his ankles.

The clouds crushing the sky were matched only by the ones gathering in his eyes, both menacingly beautiful in the rawness of their power.

“Rush to your side at the break of day, in an unknown land to a hastily deduced location only to be met with suspicion and incredulity that I would ever think to aid your distress unless under duress? Am I truly so irredeemable?” You felt the hair on your arms stand up, hackles raised. “Well I wouldn’t have needed to get away for a while if you hadn’t been such a presumptive arsehole last night,” “Oh – I see,” Loki said, nodding sarcastically as his hands flew up. “Of course. My fault, as usual.”

He spun away, walking ahead. “Keep up” he bristled loudly. You muttered curses under your breath. The pain was getting worse. Looking up, you were met with Loki’s icy glare over his shoulder. “What is it?” he snapped, trying to remain indifferent. But his eyebrows always gave him away. “I twisted my ankle or something on the ridge,” you sighed.

Loki rolled his eyes. “See – there!” you whined, gesturing. “Right there. Why do you need to roll your eyes at that?”

He stiffened, hands moving to his hips. “Will you allow me to carry you?” he drawled, evading the question. “No I can make it, it’s not that far” you lied. Loki nodded, circling back towards you. “At least take my arm,” he sniffed, offering it forth. And with a reluctant sigh, you took it.

“You need to change your clothes, Loki.” You looked up, meeting the indignant glare you knew would be waiting. “You said it yourself. Hazards: wayward tourists. When Steve finds out about me, he’ll be pissed. If he finds out about you rumbling us, he’ll be catatonic.” Loki released a ragged exhale. “Fine,” he griped. In a blinding flash, luxe emerald battle leathers transformed to the thoroughly beige ensemble from yesterday. “Better?” he smarmed, the sarcasm palpable. “Meh,” you replied. A knowing smirk was exchanged. It warmed the air between you.

“So listen,” you said tentatively, hobbling at his side. “Earlier, you said something about being irredeemable-” “-yes,” Loki cut. You felt his shoulders roll, his demeanour hardening again. “I’m trying to be...trying to, adapt myself. It’s a work in progress. So far it is proving...arduous. Last night was evidence of that.” “Oh. Well...I just meant that you're not irredeemable. We weren’t right together, I know that. You can’t help being a god and a prince and all the eh...attributes, that come from that, and it was wrong of me to...expect you to change? I don’t know.” The two of you picked your way over the uneven track in silence, heart sinking into your stomach before Loki cleared his throat.

“As I understand it, the habits of a lifetime are hard to break even for mortals,” he said, swirling his wrist with a flourish. “Imagine then, what it is like for me.” You threw him an incredulous stare. He frowned. “I understand that my explanation lends weight to your inaugural grievance but you cannot deny the logic” he muttered bitterly.

You licked your bottom lip, heart thumping as you eased the can of worms open. “So what you’re saying is that you agree with...the things I said you were?”

Your heart ached at the memory of the indifference in his eyes as you left him that day. ‘Haughty. Condescending. Unwaveringly arrogant.’

You had been so angry. So angry at his unwillingness to change. To be open to the possibility of change, after everything you had been through together. All the love, so-called, that you had shared. It wasn’t enough – how could you have thought it would be? And he had just sat, crossed-legged on the sofa as you bubbled over the brim. ‘Are we done here?’ he’d said coldly, like concluding a business transaction. In the end, you’d conceded, that the person you were most enraged at was yourself. Loki frowned deeper, staring ahead. You wondered if he was revisiting the same memory. Like loitering at the crevice of a haunted cellar, peering in. His fingers wrapped around yours, still gripping his forearm.

“Well, yes” he replied cautiously. “But I was never expected to be anything else. There was no need – I thought it was just...me. That it was inevitable. It’s all I’ve known.” You opened your mouth and closed it again. “Consider the leaves,” Loki said with a wave of his hand to the multi-coloured foliage littering the skyline. “Those over there...retain their summer green.” He pointed further down the ridge.

“And those, have turned to that rusted maroon you like so much.” He looked to you, features softening. “Does the green leaf know that it is to turn? To change and ebb? Does it have expectation of rebirth?” “It is pretty humble for you to compare yourself to a leaf, I’ll give you that” you mumbled, limping over a pile of scattered cow shit. Loki stopped abruptly, sliding his arm from yours and cupping your shoulders in his hands. His eyes were wide, running over your face as his brows slanted. “Darling, please let me carry you” he whispered earnestly. “Let me help you.” You considered telling him to fuck off, but one brief glance at the endless uneven path stretching down to the forest made you pause. “Fine,” you sighed. “But don’t call me darling. We don’t do that anymore.” A small smile pressed against Loki’s cheeks, making his dimples flash. Immediately he crouched, extending his arms with palms facing up. You shuffled between them, adopting the position.

The beige fleece Loki was wearing did nothing to stop the warmth of his hard chest seeping through your clothes, a thick waft of his natural musk filling your nostrils. With one hand looped behind his neck, clasping the other, you tried to imagine a world where this sweetness wasn’t everything you desperately wanted.

“See?” he postured absent-mindedly as he picked his way down the path with ease. “I can be charming.” Glad of the change of topic, you kept your tone to one of mild interest. “Who says you aren’t charming?” “My brother,” he growled quietly. A snort of unexpected laughter erupted from your throat. You looked to him, faces inches apart. The crawl of Loki’s bemused gaze from your lips to your eyes made your heart skip.

“It’s just…” you started guiltily, searching the depths of his brilliantly blue irises. Even in the gathering gloom of the storm, they sparked. “I-” “I understand,” he said abruptly, looking forward again. His lips formed a hard line, the blade of his cheekbone deepening as his face set. Whatever Loki thought you had meant to say, it was not the truth. But somehow, the truth was harder to muster now than the fiction where you couldn’t stand him. You felt him readjust his grip on your waist, fingers sinking into the soft fleece beneath your rainjacket.

“You are charming,” you whispered against the wind. It was supposed to sound comforting. Platonic. But a part of you hoped that it wouldn’t. Against your better judgement, you curled the hair on his furthest shoulder behind his ear before knitting your fingers again. “Thor isn’t one to talk, anyway.” “Rogers confirmed it,” Loki rebutted harshly, the words catching in his throat. He was very pointedly not looking at you, you noticed. “Steve isn’t one to talk either,” you chuckled, before sighing. Rain fell heavier now, thick droplets landing on your forehead and following the tracks of forgotten tears.

You watched it fall against Loki’s brow, a silken sheen of moisture coating the milk-wild perfection you’d kissed every inch of in your time together. A lone droplet rolled down his temple, following the gutter of his cheekbone before dripping languidly down his chin. It lingered on his jawline, taking the long way down before falling. “Are you alright, Agent?” Loki murmured.

He’d been watching.

Thunder rolled overhead as you nodded slowly, rain clinging to your lashes. Hair was plastered to his cheeks now, inky tendrils winding across alabaster skin like oil on snow. His grip around your body tightened, looking upwards. “Hold on tight,” he growled.

You barely had time to process his words before a torrent unleashed overhead, battering against the ground as Loki began a run down the hill. “M-magic t-to dry-?” you gasped as every stride of his strong legs knocked the breath from your lungs.

“It is fruitless against the English onslaught,” Loki yelled over the storm’s sudden din. “Believe me.” You buried your face in his neck, the heat of your breath against his wet skin conjuring images of lazy mornings spent fucking in his shower. How steam filled the room like Vatican smoke, heralding the joyus arrival of your climax over and over.

Loki would hold you safe against the wall, his large palms cupping your ass and guiding you towards pleasure you had never experienced before. And never would again. The sweet pants of praise he released wetly against your skin, the splatter from his sodden hair as he snapped his neck back in ecstasy. The squeak of his enormous hand running down the glass shield as he came undone inside you. It would haunt your mind forever. The ghost in the cellar.

And now, just like then, there was nothing to do but hold on. Your grip tightened around his neck, the flat of his thigh hitting your ass every so often when, presumably, he cleared a tree trunk.

Every nerve beneath your skin was on fire, each movement jolting life into feelings you had tried to smother. You were acutely aware of your lips parting against the curve of his neck, delicate skin hovering above his own.

Taunting yourself, you brushed against him; sucking your own breath back from the rebound. The fine hairs on his skin tingled your lips, sending twisting aches of desire between your thighs. Loki veered to the left, thrusting your face against his neck. Involuntarily the grip around him tightened, clasping his skin to your lips in a desperate, if accidental, embrace.

And suddenly, it was gone. Loki had lowered you to the ground, standing back abruptly. He stood triangular, legs apart like a soldier.

The fabric of his clothes was dark, saturated with water and clinging to his lithe body like a second skin. It hung against the marbled muscle, tracking every deep line carved into his thighs and plastering the bulge of his crotch in a way that could only be described as obscene.

The stare he held was formidable, two distantly smouldering eyes set with purpose which observed from beneath heavily knitted brows. Hands clasped ceremonially behind his back, he lowered his chin and nodded to the side. With disappointment, you realised you were back at the cottage. Loki had stopped in a small clearing, and the dismal looking residence couldn’t be more than fifty meters away. “I thought you could go ahead” he said, raking his fingers through sodden hair. It slathered back from his face, the sharp lines glinting. “That way, Rogers will never need to know there was an...incident. I will follow after an appropriate interval with an appropriate excuse.”

“Come with me,” you said incredulously, wiping a swathe of water from your cheek. As Loki shook his head, you found you couldn’t stop yourself. “I want them to know you helped, it was my fault I was stupid, I got myself fucking crag-fast like an idiot...and hurt and you-” “No.” was Loki’s staunch response.

The lonely sound of rain on the tree canopy rustled.

Brow furrowing, you stepped closer and brushed down his arm, drawing one hand out from behind his back. It sat limply in yours. “Come with me,” you pleaded.

Loki frowned, staring at your hand holding his own. As if it was not his own. And with aching clarity, you realised this was him trying. “I fear, under the circumstances, I would not be able to contain myself from being…” he swallowed thickly, cricking his neck to the side before continuing, “-myself.” You stared at him, and he at you.

There was a flutter of wet leaves beneath his feet as he shuffled. “Really, you should go you’ll catch your dea-” And just like that, without thinking, you had crossed the space between you.

Like an out of body experience, hands slid over his sodden shoulders, pulling his parted lips to yours mid-words. Warmth flooded your body as his frozen arms slowly made a cage around your waist, sliding down your back like you would shatter beneath his touch.

His tongue slipped cautiously between your lips. It grew with each passing second to a raging hunger in every all-consuming jut muscle against your own. It felt like home. Your fingers tangled in clumped strands of hair against his scalp, teeth clashing while fears were forgotten. If only for now. For now, you wanted to love him. “Loki,” you moaned into his mouth.

His name held weight when you said it like that.

His hands searched your body, never settling in one place, grasping at the jacket which crackled and slid beneath his fingers. Loki panted, cupping your chin before delving deeper.

Every unspoken word, every abandoned touch, each lingering glance that ate away at you in the dead of night flooding from your body to his in that kiss.

“Darling,” he breathed as he held you still. His wet forehead pressed against yours. Your eyes were still closed, waiting for his return. Nerves fluttered in your chest, your stomach; happiness that you daren’t have hoped for sloshing at the edges of your sanity. You couldn’t think.

“Darling,” he repeated stiffly, a gentle shake of his grip urging your eyes open. “I can’t-” he said solemnly, as you opened your eyes. You felt words forming – ‘Don’t call me darling’ - or maybe it was a scream. But a single finger to your lips silenced it, whatever it would have been. “Go.” he said. And he meant it. And as you felt the scream rise again in your throat, you did.

Loki’s watch followed you all the way to the door as he lingered on the edge of the forest. You could feel his gaze as keenly as though it were his hands. How you wished that memory was as hard to conjure as it had been before daybreak. Through the window, you could see Thor buttering crumpets.

One last kiss, you thought; hoping the rain would mask your tears from the others inside.

One last kiss before the lights went out.

>>>> Chapter Four: Home Truths Tags

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sinsirellaxx · 5 days

Text

Five times the Rogue Prince made you cry

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warning: Daemon being Daemon, mentions of dubcon, angst and heartbreak?

Also: Not proofread – as always. Are we even surprised at this point?

The first time he had made you cry; was the second time you had met him. The first time you had met him was at a celebration at the Red Keep, his eyes had been glued to you the moment they had come across you. You weren’t sure what had drawn him to you, because you and everyone else were aware of his preferences – and you were nothing like the ideal woman that he was surely after. What you were sure of, however, was the feeling of discomfort and dread wash over you as his eyes burned into your skin. You had excused yourself early and parted from your friends and family before he had the chance to approach you.

After that, you saw him as he was invading your city, causing havoc and brutally cutting down everyone that came across him. Your wide teary eyes, filled with grief and hatred, had met his wicked ones before you turned around and ran. Ran until your legs burned – begging you to stop and rest. But you couldn’t. The sound of him hot on your tail haunting you and forcing you to push your muscles beyond their limits, scared of what he might do to you if he caught you.

The only thing that saved you that night was you jumping off a cliff and into the deep dark sea – lucky that you hadn’t hit your head on a stone upon breaching through the water surface. Before the Rogue Prince could reach the waters, you had managed to run into the woods and hide.

The second time he had made you cry was in the free city of Braavos. After having escaped that horrible night, you had not returned home to look for any remaining family – in fear of running across the Rogue Prince and having to face the reality of losing your family. Instead, you had traveled to Braavos to start a new life and to find the faceless men, for the world was not kind to helpless girls or women – you needed to learn how to fend for yourself. After weeks of trying to coax your way into the guild you finally made it into it. Moons pass by, before you cross paths with the Rogue Prince again. You don’t see him until he is just a few feet away from you, his hand reaching out towards you, his eyes filled with the same electric excitement as that night. You turned around just in time, stumbling back a few steps when your brain registered his Targaryen features. When you finally realized you turned around and ran, the blonde prince right behind you.

You felt a wave of nausea hit you at the Déjà vu, the situation so ironic that it made you want to laugh. You were thankful that you had spent a good amount of time exploring the city as you maneuvered through narrow alleys, pushing random objects to the floor behind you to slow the prince down.

Why was he here? Had he been searching for you? If so, why?

When you spotted the temple of the Faceless-Men your eyes lit up, but before you could relax the thought of luring a stranger to the guild to the temple would be fatal. You’d be in trouble with the Faceless-Men, and it was never wise to show your hideout to your enemy. Which is why you took a sharp turn, stumbling in the process. Fuck. Fear consumed your body when a hand shot out, grasping the back of your shirt with inhuman strength, pulling you back into the hard chest of your captor. You had lost. His strong arms wrapped around you, caging you in.

“I finally got you, little bird.” He chuckled into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your cheek like dragon fire, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You had started thrashing around immediately; kicking your legs, pushing your elbow into his sides but nothing seemed to help – his grip was like iron around you. His embrace would be your personal birdcage from then on. The more you seemed to put up a fight, the wider the smirk on his face grew. As impatient as Daemon was, he quickly grew tired of your tantrum, the elbow that had managed to hit him in the face was the last straw. He quickly turned you around before bending down to throw you over his shoulder, his arm wrapping tightly around your thighs. He wouldn’t take any more chances. He would not lose you again. After walking across the whole city, he had stopped in the middle of nowhere. When you heard the screech of his Dragon you felt tears burn behind your eyes. You truly had lost.

When he heaved you up onto the dragon, a lone tear rolled down your cheek. When he climbed up behind you, his arms immediately wrapping around you possessively the rest of your tears followed.

“Let’s go home, riñītsos.”

The third time he had made you cry was shortly after the second time. Instead of King’s Landing he had taken you to Dragonstone, locking you into one of the rooms before disappearing for a few days. The maids had been the only people you had seen over those days. They had washed you, dressed you and fed you, before disappearing again. On the fifth day, the Maids had entered your room in a rush, carrying a beautiful gown into your chambers before ushering you into the bathroom. A weird feeling had spread through your body; the gown looked like a wedding-gown, the feeling of nausea rushed over you, weakening your knees and if you hadn’t been seated in the hot water you would have surely fainted. The urge to throw up had grown worse when you were seated in front of the vanity, the maids working on your hair and applying some kohl and tint onto your trembling lips. Afterwards you were forced into the beautiful gown, the corset was tied tightly, and you had wished for the corset to completely cut of your airstream and suffocate you. But fate wasn’t that kind.

The maids had left you after that, but you hadn’t been left alone for long as the Rogue Prince entered your chambers with a wide grin on his face.

“Gods – you look beautiful, riñītsos. Have you missed me?” He came to stand behind you, his chest touching your back as he pressed his nose into your hair, taking in your scent.

When you had stepped away from him, he tutted his tongue, pulling you towards him again. You had tried your best to avoid looking him in the eyes, but you couldn’t help but look up when you felt the feeling of cold metal on your neck and chest. Your hand flew up to touch the necklace, looking down to see the beautiful ruby gemstones encased by dragon claws. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He whispered as you examined it silently. “It’s my wedding gift.”

At the word wedding your whole body tensed up again. You had immediately started protesting, your hands frantically trying to unclasp the necklace, but the prince had only chuckled at your pathetic attempt. “No? What do you think will happen, if you start running again, little bird? Do you really think that you can escape me? Escape from Dragonstone?” The silence that had followed was loud, followed by a low, haunting chuckle. He had been right. You couldn’t escape.

That day you had cried in front of the sept as you were bound to the man you feared most in front of his gods. That day you had cried yourself to sleep after he had defiled you – after he had greedily taken everything from you until exhaustion finally took over you.

The fourth time he had made you cry was when Daemon had stormed into your chambers, an unreadable look on his face as he approached you with big steps. You had been scared, your body still sore from the previous night but instead of bending you over as he liked to do most of the nights, he had kneeled in front of you – hugging your body and pressing his face into your stomach.

“My little dragon. Thank you, ābrazȳrys.” He had said, before pressing soft kisses onto your stomach, his hands squeezing your bottom as he took in a deep breath. “The maester informed me you’re with child, little bird.”

His words had made your heart skip a bit, the feeling of anxiety threatening to consume your nerve as your eyes had widened in shock. You were pregnant with his child.

“You are mine forever, riñītsos.”

The fifth time you had cried was when you caught him kiss his niece in a dark corridor – the pregnancy hormones had messed with your feelings you had told yourself as you had run back to the safety of the room. You had cried and cried, clutching onto the front of your dress at your heart’s betrayal. You had fallen for your captor. And your captor had cheated on you.

#hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #the rogue prince #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #dark!daemon

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bagopucks · 2 months

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T. Zegras - Can He Sing?

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): None?

—————————————

“We’re ready when you are.”

“I’m good. Trev?”

“Uh yeah… I think so.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Filming.”

“Hello! I’m Macy Grey and today we’re here with the singer-songwriter who brought you the famous album Silly Love Songs. And her lover Trevor Zegras from the Anaheim Ducks. On behalf of myself and the studio I want to thank you both for coming out today.”

“Of course! I love getting in touch with interviewers. Especially from locally known studios.”

“When I was informed you were in town for the All Stars, I wasn’t sure if you’d have the time, but I’m so happy you were able to fit us into your schedule.”

“Absolutely. I should be thanking you for letting Trevor come though. I know your forte isn’t exactly hockey players.”

Large studio interviews were a waste of time. It was something I always resented, and something that even morally never agreed with me. Large studios only wanted to get news first to make the most money. Smaller places offered a more personal environment and a more comfortable atmosphere. It was the only reason why I had invited Trevor along. I didn’t want him involved too much in the social half of my career, mostly because the industry and jealous fans could be cruel to artists’ lovers. But I reasoned with myself that one interview wouldn’t hurt. Especially with someone like Macy Grey. She was always so kind and open to friends, family, or significant others of musicians.

“To kick us off, I’d love to talk more on the exact reason why you’re in town. Everyone is aware of your successes, but let’s fill the crowd in on Trevor’s.”

“Where to start?” I glanced at Trevor, who let out that awkward wheezy laugh. He was uncharacteristically quiet, but this was a new thing for him. Usually hockey interviews happened when there were loads of other people around. These interviews were far more private. “He was voted in as one of the players this year to play in the All Stars, and he’s competing in a few skills competitions as well. He won a gold medal with Team USA one year before the NHL, he attended Boston University before being drafted.. what else?” I hoped to get him to join in, but Trevor looked fairly comfortable letting me do all the talking. I could fix that though.

“Trevor was voted most likely to cry in a haunted house this year for team superlatives.” I smirked as soon as I heard him gasp.

“Yeah, that’s enough of that,” Trevor cut in. “I’m not a baby, write that down.” He pointed toward Macy, as if the woman had some sort of notepad in her hands. “I’m just jumpy. It’s normal.” His blue eyes shifted toward me with a playful glare, Macy laughed softly at the exchange.

“Well, Trevor. It seems like you’re a pretty successful person yourself. Would you mind me asking how you two met?”

“Oh I love this story.”

“Me too,” Trevor chimed in, crossing his legs one over the other, and leaning forward like a kid during story time.

“So, I was in New York for a performance in MSG, and the Ducks were in town too for a game” I smiled, leaning back in my chair and trying to get comfortable. “My best friend had joined me for the eastern leg of the tour at the time, so we decided to go out for drinks downtown. My favorite bar in the city is 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar. So my best friend, Shelby and I, we just got two glasses of champagne and settled at a high table to watch the sunset. We’re minding our own business.. for the most part, but there’s this group of guys that are just carrying on. They’re loud and obnoxious and they look like your stereotypical frat guys. At one point Shelby had enough, and she got up to go yell at them.” I peeked at Trevor, his smile growing wider. He knew very well that this was the part where he came in. “So Shelby’s yelling at that group of guys, and I finally got up to go wrangle her. And just as I’m approaching.. I kinda stopped and asked myself if it was a good idea. Shelby doesn’t like to be told to stop much. Then I hear this voice right next to me. Scared the shit out of me. And the voice goes, “She yours?” I laughed softly, as did Macy.

“I apologized profusely for her behavior, and-“

“But I told her I wasn’t the one getting yelled at. So it didn’t bother me.” Trevor cut in with a toothy grin. “Then I bought her another glass of champagne and the rest is history.”

“Don’t forget about the part where you booked your hotel room for an extra night to see me perform.” I teased, “And bribed security into getting backstage to see me and ask for my number.”

“Those details don’t make me sound as cool though,” Trevor whined.

“That’s a really sweet story.” Macy chimed in.

“Thank you.”

“So he asked for your number, but who asked who out?”

“To simplify a long story, Trevor was beating around the bush too much for a little while, so one night be brought me flowers before an away game and I told him when he got back, we were going to go on our first date as an official couple.” Macy and I laughed in unison.

“And were there any arguments to that demand?”

“Not from me, no.” Trevor giggled. “I was more than happy to put a label on it.”

“And how long have you been together?”

“Two years. Three at the end of All Star Week.”

“How adorable! You guys must be a strong couple then.”

“Oh one hundred percent.” Trevor smiled as he spoke.

“Now, the question on everyone’s minds is.. can he sing?”

“Yes!”

“Absolutely not.” I corrected Trevor ruthlessly. “He thinks he can.. but he can’t.” I chuckled, glancing at the sandy blonde to see his look of pure betrayal.

“Does that mean we won’t be hearing any duets?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I answered slyly, earning a surprised look from Macy. “Trev is featured on the album.. speaking. His features are mostly just backtracks.”

“I know this may be asking a lot but- is there any chance we could get a sneak peek at that?”

“For you Macy? I would love to.” I watched the girl’s eyes light up. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my files, scrolling through for a moment before I stood and dragged my chair closer to the woman’s.

“This song is called Spellbound. It was actually the first song I produced for this new album. I took some of my inspiration from the song Witchy Woman by the Eagles. The reason being, this was written during halloween, and that is just one of my favorite spooky songs. For this piece, I wanted it to feel supernaturally devoted to Trevor. Like.. kind of like.. like a love where one person idolizes the other, but not necessarily in an obsessive or toxic way. I think the lyrics and the tune teetering on the edge of insanity really adds to the supernatural edge and it also makes this song unique to Trevor. I can’t say I’ll ever produce another song like this, nor do I think anyone else will. Classic rock isn’t exactly my genre, nor do I plan for it to be. So this track really sticks out. Which is the main reason why I chose to give this song its own cover art. And I’ll be releasing it as the first single.” It was a lot of information to offer, but I was very passionate about the things I dedicated to Trevor. Especially this song.

Most of my music got old after constantly rerecording lyrics and harmonies, or sorting out instruments. But this song never did. I loved it through and through.

“This sounds amazing and so.. intricate. How long did it take in total from thinking of the idea to finalizing the song?”

“A full month maybe? I hadn’t been exactly itching to make a new album, so I knew if I was going to, my basis for it was going to have to be amazing. And I think I did a fairly good job.” I paused. “I hope so..”

“I’m sure it’s amazing. Let’s hear it!”

I wasted no time in playing the track, a steel guitar and stylized keyboard opening the musical scene. I was a person who loved using clips of recordings in my music, whether it was from everyday life, or a random video in my camera roll, or even if I took the recording of the sound specifically for a song. It was one of my many musical signatures, but the one I was most known for. Atop the smooth music, came the faded clinging of pans, and Trevor’s soft voice. “I can’t wait for you to be home.. Fuck I miss you so much.” It had been a voicemail, but my sound producers managed to give it a more authentic feel, as if someone was in the room with him recording instead of it being spoken into a phone mic. The music itself was fairly calm and collected. Certain instruments helped it sound taboo and old, but the lyrics were the driving factor that made it sound almost insane. A part of me worried my audience wouldn’t take to the song well, but Macy seemed enthralled from the start of the track.

I eyed her expressions carefully through every second, smiling to myself when she seemed particularly intrigued by a section. And I had to admit, it boosted my ego to hear Trevor not too far off in his own chair humming the song to himself. I could live with myself if everyone hated the song, as long as he loved it.

Near the bridge, Trevor’s voice returned, “I’m gonna keep you forever.” This section had been specifically recorded in the studio, and despite my endless attempts to get him to take it seriously, he had giggled at the end of every take. Eventually I settled on knowing I wouldn’t have it the exact way I wanted it, and we used the take with the least amount of amusement in his voice. At the end of the day when we put it all together, his laugh only ended up adding to the crazy feel of the song.

Near the end of the track, Macy finally spoke up.

“This is the weirdest and most mentally satisfying song I have ever heard.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Really?”

“You’re so right, it sounds nothing like what you usually produce, but it still has your essence in it. You can tell it’s your songwriting. I think this song is going to be crazy successful. And I also think having Trevor on it is going to make people go nuts” I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of that. I knew my fans would love to see Trevor featured.

“Thank you so much. I’m so excited to release the song.” I admitted with a slight grin.

“I’m just excited that I’ll be able to listen to it without having to say “babe can you sing me that song” every time I wanna hear it.” Trevor teased, causing my cheeks to flush as our eyes met.

“You don’t like her singing to you?” Macy joked.

“God no. I love it when she sings. I just hate how much I get made fun of when I ask her to do it.” The three of us laughed.

“Sounds to me like you have a pretty devoted girlfriend.”

“She did write a weirdly obsessive song about me.” Trevor agreed pridefully. “The first of many, right babe?” His question made my brow rise in surprise.

“We’ll see, Ziggy.”

“That’s a good answer. Can’t give too much away just yet.” My eyes trailed back to Macy. Our time was drawing to a close. “I hate to cut us short but I think we’re reaching our limit. And I know you have your own tight schedule today.” She paused. “I really wanna thank you again for making enough time to come out. It means a lot.”

“Mace, I think I speak for the both of us when I say we had so much fun being here. You always conduct the best interviews.” The woman blushed.

“We can come back anytime.” Trevor added, catching me off guard.

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer the next time you’re in town.” Macy grinned. “I hope you both enjoy the All Stars, and rock the red carpet of course.”

“Thank you so much. We definitely hope to.”

“I’ll be watching on tv.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #ella’s thoughts #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #nico hischier #ella’s updates #ella’s asks #cole caufield #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader

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justbelievinginmagic · 2 months

Text

˗ˏˋ do you even lift, bro??ˎˊ˗ : CHANGBIN X READER

pairing: changbin x plus-size fem!reader

summary: changbin loves showing off for you.

warnings/tags: pg-13, insecurities surrounding weight, exercising, so many pet names, fluff fluff fluff! this is so self-indulgent. the fact changbin can lift 280 lbs haunts me in the best way.

wordcount: 1.5k words

You always liked to watch your boyfriend work out in his personal home gym. Sometimes you’d join him in exercising (he loves the idea of being a gym couple despite your gentle disagreement) but most times you’d lounge across the couch (that he had put into the space just for you, of course) and work on something on your laptop. Time with Changbin was always limited – between tours, practices, recording sessions, producing sessions, and, of course, company work – any free time shared was bonding time. And Changbin loved spending time with you no matter the activity.

Working out wasn’t your favorite activity – at least not how Changbin approached it. As an idol, he was quite regimented when it came to… anything. He saw it as an accomplishment. Why just make the usual count of reps when its Better if he did more? He went harder and harder each session. His workout routine was intense and not something you couldn’t just hop into without huffing and puffing. Working out wasn’t your favorite activity but watching Changbin work out was.

The sounds: Soft huffs, gentle grunts, and low whines. The whispers of his reps under his breath. The clink-clank of the machines’ parts. The clunk of the weights hitting the ground heavily. His workout playlist going between loud rap to uppity girly pop to even slow R&B (sometimes songs you swear you heard in tender moments between you two.)

The sights: His face screwed up into a grimace shouldn’t look so handsome – bared teeth with his eyes shut. His nose scrunched as he lifts weights high above him. The gleam of sweat making his skin look golden and glowy. His hair damp across his forehead. His white compression shirt getting more and more see-through as he continues his workout (and the inevitable shiver that goes through you when he sheds the shirt with a groan.)

It never gets old.

This was another such day. You had tried a simple work-out. Some cardio and some light weight training (at the insistence of Changbin.) You’ve had many conversations about exercising (it’s his favorite hobby and its your hardest frenemy as a plus size woman after all, and there were multiple conversations about the importance of strength training with weights – “you won’t bulk, baby! I promise. No, you won’t—who told you you would get a footballer’s shoulders? No, no, baby! Here--” and then he taught you workouts that would be good for you courtesy of his trainer). And while you were done in 30 minutes, you knew Changbin had at least another 30 minutes on his calendar set aside for ‘working out with yeobo’ as it was marked in his schedule.

So here you sat on the couch, gazing over at Changbin only to avert your gaze when his dark eyes eventually flickered over to you. It was a fun game. Looking over again when you feel his gentle gaze leave you, your eyes lick over his form. He was weight-training. A completely different routine to your light weight lifting to tone your arms and back. He was lifting heavy weights. Some were being swung up to his head before he squatted and lowered the weight in between his legs. Another was a normal curling of weights to show off his biceps and triceps. And now… oh it was your favorite – the dead lift.

The idea that your boyfriend could hold such a high amount of weight was attractive. And you’ve told him many times. Still, almost like a child on Christmas seeing the gifts around the tree in the morning, you perch up on the leathered couch to gaze over at your Changbin. When he glanced your way as he added another round heavy-looking weight, he laughed as he caught your gaze finally.

“Caught ya, yeobo,” he teased smiling that grin that made your heart tremble with a flurry of butterflies. “I win our game today.”

You laughed. “I wasn’t trying to win – I just want to look at my handsome man.”

He pursed his lips into an air-kiss (that you dramatically grab the air for) as he moved to place another weight on the bar.

“How much is that?” you queried.

Looking over the weights, he replied, “Around 180 pounds.”

Almost as if to tease you, his arms raised high above his head as he peeled the skin-tight shirt from his form. His muscles bounced as they settled into place after tossing the shirt aside. Changbin glanced over at you with bashful eyes. Your reaction made him laugh, overly dramatically flinging yourself back on the couch in a overwhelmed mess. "Stop," you whined, peering at him from your spot. He moved to lift the weight he prepared, arms flexing deliciously.

You looked him up and down before catcalling proudly. “You’re so hot.”

He smirked as he continued to lift the weights.

You couldn’t help but let the number he told you echo in your mind. You were heavier than that. You watched him as he lifted the weights again and again. Was it hard for him? You watched his breath – his chest rising and falling as he pursed his lips as he took in a big thing of air.

“I’m surprised you can hold me up,” you commented offhandedly-more absentmindedly as you continued to ogle your boyfriend. Of course, he has – your moments in bed don’t always stay limited to the bed – but now you were thinking… has he ever lifted you up fully? Sure, he’s lifted your leg up or held your legs or held you against the wall. You couldn’t remember if he’s ever held you like a bride or even slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

His breath that he was holding as he lifted was audible as he dropped the weights unceremoniously.

“What?” he spluttered – as if you had insulted him personally.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Eyes widening as you laugh a bit, if not a bit self-deprecatingly.

“Baby, I’m not tiny. I know I’m big and I’m—you know I don’t expect you to lift me or hold my weight. I’m too heavy for everyone.” You snorted a bit. “The times you have is enough.”

“C’mon over here, jagiya,” he called, hands reaching out to you.

“Binnie,” you tried as you looked at him. “Don’t do this.”

The worst feeling in the world is when someone says no, they can handle you – only to can’t. Throughout your life, you’ve experienced this – moments where you’ve sat on the laps of others only to hear an ‘oof’ while smaller friends never experienced such a reaction. You can see it now – your sweet boyfriend trying to lift you up for longer than a moment only to huff and lower you to your feet.

“Bunny,” he hummed as he came over to the couch. “Do you think my muscles are for show?” he tilted his head a bit as if challenging you.

You gave him a bit of a dead-eyed look. “Binnie- really I’ve go –“ You didn’t get to finish your words as he bent down to scoop an arm under your legs, letting his other arm support your back. A soft gasp left you as he stood back up, your arms scrambling to wrap around his neck. Trying to hoist your weight up, but he refused, pulling you closer to his chest in rebellion.

“Shh,” he hushed as he walked over to the large mirrors beside his weights.

“Never say I can’t hold you,” he murmured softly as he held you close to his chest. There wasn’t an inkling of struggle or huff in his voice. He was just holding you. Something you imagined before countlessly but with burning heart of self-consciousness never thought could happen. Yet here he was.

“In fact,” he hummed as he walked over to the nearby weight rack, with you in his arms still. “You are as light as a feather.” He squatted once, twice. His arms didn’t tremble. His breath didn’t hitch. If you were attracted when watching him work out, in this instance, you could faint with how much adoration radiated from your heart. Adoration and anticipation.

He glanced down at you, lips curling into a soft grin at the look in your eyes. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, pursing his lips over and over with a smooching sound. As much as he’d love to swing you around to hold you by your bum (with your legs wrapping around his lean waist), he wasn’t done proving a point.

The nearby weight rack was lower than his waist and, so carefully, he squatted down.

“Can you hold one of those weights, yeobo?” he pointed with his chin to the sets of weights resting on the rack. 20lb, 40 lb, 50lb, more. “Whichever you can hold, darling.”

You reach over to grab the one of your choice before resting it on the curve of your hips. As he stood again, he swung you about, doing curls with your form.

“Yeah, still light as a feather,” he hummed. Changbin’s ears burned with pride as he heard your soft girlish giggle. He let out his own giggle which only made you blush, arms going to pull you towards his neck. He leaned his head forward, following your blushing bashful hiding towards his neck. “You hear me? I’m not even breaking a sweat, yeobo.” He pressed another kiss to the curve of your cheek.

Your eyes flicker to meet his tender ones.

“Never ever say I can’t lift you or that you are too big for me,” he murmured gently. “You are perfect. My angel.” He swayed you a bit like a baby. “Light as a feather, angel.”

#seo changbin x reader #seo changbin x you #changbin x reader #changbin x you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #changbin fluff #skz imagines #changbin imagines #written by haley

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jaehymrk · 2 months

Text

haunted apartment.

jude bellingham x reader. angst. in the apartment where he left you and the apartment that was left behind.

Jude never liked the apartment of yours in Madrid, it was too small for his liking; but for you it was safe enough for two. Somewhere in the busy streets of Madrid, you decided to rent your apartment that had enough space for one year lease as you had hit a jackpot on a study exchange aboard in Spain, specifically Madrid.

The apartment was good: one bedroom, a small living room, toilet and kitchen but your favourite part was the small balcony connected to your bedroom. However, Jude hated it, the balcony faced the buzzling streets of Madrid and the dirty gaze of other men that he could not protect you from; but you never listened, you never did.

Around this time last year, Jude was leaping up and down in excitment to meet you in your apartment away from the sudden rushed fame and his playful mother to his soft, and warm girlfriend who would embrace him into home. Now, he stood downstairs staring blankly at the peach coloured wall and stairs that once led to you.

He remembered complaining about the stairs vividly, "I cannot believe I have to do this." He rolled his eyes, lifting your small pink couch up the stairs. You chuckled, shaking your head jokingly at his annoyance. You loved the most about Jude is that there were minor things annoying the shit out of him. Such as these peach coloured stairs and the bright hot summer sun of Madrid did not help from the sweat dripping down his cheek.

"It is just on the second floor, babe." You calmly said, lifting the couch from the bottom. Jude forced a fake smile, turning his eyes into crescent moon. By the tenth complain, Jude had reach your frontdoor and before he could open his mouth and rant again, you shook your keys to distract as you turned the key to open your apartment door.

You winked, slamming the door open wide. "Welcome home, Jude."

"The previous flat owner asked me to give these keys if you ever come back." The security guard shook the keys in front of Jude to get him out from the trance. He nodded, smiling in manner.

Jude never liked the apartment, the ceilings were too low, and the wallpaper were faded into yellow. He, then recalled your eyes twinkled in happiness as it danced around every corner of the room. Jude realized how much you wanted this, to make the apartment yours. So he decided to try to like the apartment for you.

He stood in the middle of the living room.

"Tell me you do not have feelings for her, Jude?" You demanded.

He groaned in anger, "Why are you asking me these questions when I already told you I needed her help about something." He clicked his tongue, absurd at your words, your accusation.

"What kind of fucking help? What kind of help that I could have not given you?" You cried out in frustration. The walls were thin, you realized the first time you argued with Jude. The security guard had banged on your door, with swollen red eyes you opened. Instead of screaming in fits of anger, he just asked you to apologize to the next door.

So you did. Apologized later that night, saying you were just fighting for love that was losing its meaning.

Jude sat in silence as you seeked for answers. You breathed in softly, tears pooling in your eyes. You still have a few weeks to go before flying back to England; you were not risking another apology out of complete embarassment to your next door neighbour that you are really losing everything you came to Madrid for.

Jude had sat down the small couch with his head buried in his palm, you sat on the floor between his legs, pulling his hand away from his face to fit in yours. "Jude, I just want to know if you have feelings for her? If you just tell me that you do not, we can stop fighting. I will stop fighting." You asked, your heart twitching in pain as a woman, your intuition was your best calling but how much you wished in that moment for your intuition to laugh at your face.

You squeezed his hand gently. He opened his mouth before closing again, he replied crushing your whole world down in flame.

"I found myself wanting to go to her with my problems than coming to you." He confessed shutting his eyes in the sudden petrified ache that ran through his body as you losen your grip of his hand. Your hand falling on your lap as you sat in silence, maybe minutes or hours.

Jude found a small box in the table next to your tiny kitchen. With his shaky hands, he took a few photo frames out from the box. You had his graduation photo framed, Jude was not a fan of it.

"Oh my god! You looked adorable, baby." You squealed in the sudden hidden gem found to decorate your living room. It was a small young Jude, showing off his teeth smile but his eyebrows furrowed, he was annoyed in the picture. Jude laughed tackling on your back as he straddled on top of you to cage you. "Do not dare, i swear to god." He threatened but you mischievously shown your tongue, not listening to him at all.

Now, he wonder why he was not a fan of it, he was so happy.

You also had photoframed your picture with Jude in the Bernabéu stadium for the first time. He had a soft smile on his face wiping his finger through the frame, thinking on how nervous you were for him. It was a new chapter Jude was taking further away from you again and every moment was killing you.

You turned bumping your head onto his chest, Jude wrapped his arm around your waist. "I am just nervous. It is really the Real Madrid you dreamt about." You reminded yourself, rather than reminding him about it.

Jude glanced at your lower lip you were biting, your chest somewhat beating rapidly than usual. He let go off your waist to cup your cheek, rubbing his nose against yours. "Thank you for coming here with me, baby." He expressed himself, settling his head on yours. You smiled, "I will always come anywhere with you."

"Do you want a picture together? It is a good day." The photographer offered.

You nodded, fixing your hair away from your face, wrapping your hand around his arm: "Of course."

On the bottom of the box laid all the jerseys Jude left in your apartment, you did not take one token of memory with you back home, nothing about him remained in your luggage as you returned back home. Jude felt a void forming in his chest. The type of ache he had no words for.

The whole apartment was too neat for his liking. It was neater than the room you were welcomed to. Jude hated it, from the minute you entered this apartment, nothing embraced you wholly. Not this fucked up apartment, not your next door neigbours, not your security guard, not even him.

This fucking apartment was the only piece of you for Jude to reminisce in Madrid and he just could not even bring himself to like it enough.

He stood in front of your bedroom door, his eyes staring at the empty bed.

"I really like Madrid." You confessed, head resting onto his naked chest. Jude twitched uncomfortably, removing his arm away from your shoulder.

"That is good, I am glad."

You stared at him, not sure what you have said so wrong to give you a fake smile as he stared at the ceiling, falling into his own abyss. You tapped his shoulder, "I am not saying I will move here right away. I know you really love your team and-" You brushed your hair, collecting your words together as your throat burned in embarrassment; wondering if you were not welcomed by your own person in the whole city to not want you as much as you want him. "I also know we do not know what our future holds but I just like Madrid with you, Jude."

He laid on the bed staring at the dumb glowing stickers you bought from England. It never glowed, you believed wholeheartedly that it will.

Jude chuckled as his tears rolled down on the bedsheets, before he could choke his feelings out in pain. There was a knock in the main door. "Sir, you have to leave soon. Renters are about to come and check the place out. Thank you." The security guard screamed through the door; not wanting to invade the privacy of a superstar.

He laughed in his own misery, he cannot even drown in his own sadness. Jude got up from your bed, exiting the room with the box in his arm. He stood once again in the living room where he left you crying. Jude wondered if England is treating you better than Madrid ever did.

"So you did have feeling for her?" You asked, wanting to hear his answer properly instead Jude does what he does best; beating around the bushes with you.

"Babe, I am just saying it was eaiser to talk to her about football and the stress here." He tried explaining, leaning to grab your hand but you whipped away from his grip.

You chuckled dryly, "If that was the case, I could just fall in love with hundreds of exchange students here but I did not." You said calmly. Enough on the screaming, enough on the wanting to understand his side. Enough.

"I do not just love you, Jude. I respect our relationship but you did not even find a little respect for our relationship in yourself to come clean with me." You pointed onto his chest.

"I never said I have feelings for her." He explained.

"You chose to go to her while I waited hours for you to show up at my fucking door." You stared at him, "I cannot look at you please, just leave."

Jude wondered if he loved you more when you were present in this apartment. Jude wondered if he fought for you harder in this apartment you called home.

"Hey, it's jude . . I don't know if you still use this number. I just- like I wanted to know if you are okay there. It is home right?" Jude said, trying to form words. At that point, he did not even know who he was talking to.

Maybe a stranger or maybe you.

"I know I am late and you probably hate me more than anything or anyone right now. God, I do not know what I am saying to you." He chuckled. Jude was sitting on those peach stairs, voicemailing you.

"That night, I left and I should not have left you. I should have stood there and apologize till sunrise. I should have done more. But, there is nobody I would love more than you. I am sorry, baby . . I am so sorry I should have said I like Madrid with you in it. I like our home with you in it ."

#jaehymrkwrites #jude bellingham #judebellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham scenarios #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine

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wosowrites · 9 months

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Against All Odds (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: none

prompt: in which reader is a super buff boxer but gets all soft around Jessie, making Jessie’s teammates tease her.

a/n: for @woso-scotland

Growing up with 5 older brothers meant one thing. Chaos. The only time you all got along was when you were watching boxing on the TV. However, when you were 11, the middle child, Jacob, died. You had never heard the house so quiet, it haunted you to this day. He had only been 15.

But, 11 year old you wanted to make your family feel better, she wanted to give her family back the five boxers for children they had before the accident.

That’s why when you told your father you wanted to take up boxing, he didn’t say no. Your dad was your biggest fan. He came to every game, gave you tips until you were too good for them, and supported you through everything including your coming out. You were the only person in the family that had continued boxing, your brothers turning into architects, police officers and family men while you stayed nose deep in the world of boxing.

By the time you were 20, you were incredibly well known in the boxing world, and at the same time, a certain 20 year old was growing a name for herself too. Only in the football industry. However you would only meet Jessie Fleming years later at a gym…

You were ripped, to say the least. But not the kind of ripped that would go noticed to everyone. You wore hoodies and sweatpants and it made your build discreet, but the second you were in a sports bra and shorts it was undeniable you could take anybody in a fight.

Jessie met you at the supermarket in London. It was the middle of COVID and your boxing season has been cut short. You were wearing light blue Columbia sweatpants and a matching crewneck with a black mask. Your sneakers were white, but just barely as you only left your house for essentials.

You had always lived in LA which made the sudden move to London, England shocked to your family. But you knew you needed to get away from the world during this virus thing.

You turned the corner, holding a basket in your hand which was filled with vegetables, milk, fruit and some protein bars. As you did, you felt a cart come crashing into your legs and sending you flying backwards, landing on the ground.

"Oh my god! I’m so sorry," the young woman squealed, quickly leaving her spot behind the cart and rushing to your side. "It’s okay, i’m fine," you laughed, rubbing you knees and standing up. "I’m- Im so sorry I was just lost in my own mind and I didn’t see you," she apologized again. "What are you, Canadian? Enough apologies. I’m okay," you teased. "How did you know?" she asked, helping you place your own groceries back into your basket. "Know what?" you questioned, only realizing now how beautiful the girl in front of you was, or at least what you could see of her was. "That i’m canadian?" she said.

"Oh. I didnt. I was just kidding, but that makes sense now, and the accent," you laughed. "Okay American," she clapped back, rolling her eyes teasingly. "I feel like i’ve seen you somewhere," you said to her, narrowing your eyes. "Uh- no. Probably not. I’m your average girl," she said.

"So am I," you said.

The next week, you saw her again. This time, you had just come from the gym so you had on shorts and a tank top, showing off your features. Jessie was there too. "Hey!" she said to you as you met her in. the dairy alley. "Hi. How are you?" you asked her. "I’m good. And you’re jacked," she said, not so discreetly passing her eyes over your body. Usually, someone staring at you like that would make you self conscious, but the way Jessie did it made you feel good.

"Uh, yeah," you laughed. "Oh my god. When I left here last week I thought i recognized you too. That’s because you… box, right? On TV! A few of my teammates have a crush on you. They hate boxing but they love watching you," she laughed. "Oh really now? Well I don’t really care what they think but I care what you do. Because I recognize you too. Jessie Fleming, olympic athlete, two times world cup attender, and Chelsea player," you said, listing her honours.

"Stalker," she accused. "Yeah," you smiled. "Okay well how about I get to know you through another mechanism than google," you suggested. "You mean a date?" she asked, clearly blushing. "I do,"

But then the whole world went into lockdown again and your dates were more like king calls till midnight and face time dates.

Everything worked out though, because on this day of April 14th 2023, you were dating and more in love than ever.

Jessie’s Canadian teammates found out first. You had travelled to Ottawa with her for the celebration tour of winning the Olympics. Jessie had a video of you screaming your guts out by yourself in your apparement when they won the games. You were yelling, crying, and got a noise complaint the next day. But you didn’t care. All you wanted to do with your life was support your girlfriend, and that’s all she wanted to do with hers.

So, that’s how you found yourself front row in tiny little place TD stadium, sitting on a chair that was a little tight on your quads. Jessie scored a penalty, mimicking the one she did at the Olympics and you yelled for that too. You were probably the only American that loved the Canadian team more than anything.

After the game, the team walked around clapping to the fans and when Jessie got to you she stopped and hugged you over the barrier. "Come down, the security here is light," she said to you. So you climbed over the railing and hopped onto the turf. "Janine!" Jessie called, ushering over a blonde who had been talking to a man who looked like her brother. Janine jogged over and looked at you with wide eyes. You were pretty menacing to people who didn’t know you. "This is… y/n, my girlfriend," Jessie said. "You’re- your what?!! How long have you been together?" Janine asked. "Um, well we’ve been taking it slow a year but we made it official like six months ago," Jessie said. "Six. Months?!" Janine whisper yelled. "Hi, I’m y/n," you said, sticking your hand out.

Janine had clearly forgotten you were there as her her snapped towards you in confusion. "Oh, sorry. Hi, I’m Janine Beckie," she said. "Y/n Y/l/n," you smiled, shaking it. "Like the boxer?" she asked. "Uh, yeah," you laughed.

The introductions were then made in the Canada locker room which was even scarier as what felt like hundreds of pairs of eyes were on you.

"Okay. So I don’t do this… it’s not my thing but I thought after keeping our… relationship… secret for months you guys deserved to know. This is my girlfriend, y/n. And yeah she’s the boxer," Jessie said.

You blushed furiously and smiled at the girls who started asking questions all at once. "How did you meet?"

"She hit me." you said. "Okay woah! You need to add context there," Jessie laughed. "She hit me with her shopping cart," you added.

"Okay and what are your intentions. Because this is Baby Canada right here and she can’t play with a broke heart," Chappy said, summoning her motherly side. "My intentions are to never let her go a day without feeling loved and supported. My intentions are to… watch her play with a smile on my face and make sure she knows that she is the most wonderful person I have ever met. My intentions are to go broke because I buy all of her jerseys," you said, ranting a little bit.

"Okay softie," Stephanie said, winking over at Jessie and giving her a thumbs up. "Sorry to do this y/n but the post game talk is just for players. Gotta kick you out," Bev said, heading towards the door. "Oh right. Okay well it was nice meeting you all," you said. You turned to Jessie and gave her a quick kiss on the lips which she responded by placing her hand against your abs and kissing back before you left the room.

The second you closed the door chatter erupted in the room. "Okay Fleming I see your type now," Vanessa teased.

Teasing and more teasing echoed in the room, Even Bev chipped in.

But eventually calm settled over TD place and Bev started the post game talk.

The Chelsea girls found out about Jessie’s relationship at the start of the season… by accident.

You had called her after practice to let her know that your car had broken down on the side of this little street in the middle of suburb London and you were lost. She answered your call in the changing room.

"Hey Jess, can you come get me? My car broke down and the car repair people came and got it but they couldn’t give me a ride. I’m literally standing in this random street that looks like it’s in the middle of a forest," you groaned down the phone. "What? Are you okay?" she asked. "Yeah. Im fine, just… it’s gonna rain soon Jess. I was coming home from visiting a friend and-"

"Babe, I’ll be there as soon as possible. Send me your location," Jessie said and then hung up.

"Babe?" Magda asked, the whole room silent. "Yeah. I have a girlfriend by the way and her car broke down so I gotta go get her," Jessie said, quickly putting on a matching adidas hoodie and shorts and stuffing her belongings into her gym bag. "Jessie! You’re giving four people a ride home. It’s your carpool day. Which means…" Niahm started saying.

"You are not coming with me." Jessie said sternly.

"Road trip!" Niahm, Lauren, Sam, Zecira and Emily said at once. "Wait. We want to come too, meet the girl," Pernille said, pointing between her and Magda.

"Please no," Jessie groaned. "Wait, who doesn’t want to come," she asked.

No one raised their hand.

"Everyone get in a car and follow mine," the Canadian exhaled.

Turns out you were thirty full minutes away, but that didn’t discourage anyone within the four cars trailing behind Jessie’s honda.

There was music blasting in every vehicle and when rain started pouring, Jessie knew you would be in a bad mood.

"Someone grab my phone and text y/n telling her i’m almost there," Jessie said, fumbling with her device and tossing it to Emily in the backseat.

Jessie saw you the second she turned the curve in the road. You had your hood up, your arms crossed and you looked ready to kill. She knew that you were just pissed off and would never hurt a soul, but to the other girls, you seemed positively menacing.

Jessie jumped out of her car and ran towards you, hugging you tightly. "I’m so sorry, everyone wanted to come and-"

That’s when you saw the four other cars behind your girlfriends, but you didn’t care, you just kept hugging her and let the tears of frustration mix with the raindrops on your face. "It’s okay baby, they were bound to meet me one day," you said, brushing her now wet curls out of her face.

You had excepted everyone to stay in their cars due to the insane amount of rain, but before you knew it, the entire Chelsea Women’s roster was in front of you in the street. Magda and Pernille hugged you gently, giving each other a wide eyed look as they both felt your muscle mass. "Holy shit. You’re the boxer. I watch you on TV like all the time," Guro said, eyes wide.

"Well so do I- I watch you, I mean. Not myself. I watch all of you guys," you laughed.

"Your Guro’s celebrity crush is what she’s saying," Jessie teased. "Well not anymore!" The Norwegian laughed.

You spent dozens of minute talking in the rain, the cold downpour not seeming so bad when you had Jessie’s hand in yours.

Eventually, you got into the front seat and banished Sam to Magda and Pernilles car to make room for you.

You talked to the girls in the car and answered questions that the Canadian team had already asked. But you didn’t mind because those questions just meant you were lucky enough to have Jessie Fleming sitting beside you.

"She gets super focused when she drives," Emily said. "I know, I think it’s because she’s a bad driver," you teased. "I’m not! It’s just the whole reverse thing is confusing. The cars go the opposite way then they do in Canada," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

You kept on looking at her, your eyes full of love. Jessie knew you were staring, but she just let the blush creep onto her cheeks and gave you a quick smile, returning the lovey dovey eyes.

Zecira snapped a picture from the backseat. The forest was clear through the windshield, and so were the droplets of rain. You could see Jessie’s blushing grin but not who it was directed too. She posted it to her story and closed her phone, enjoying the sound of the rain… and the one of Emily and Niahms arguing.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #jessie fleming #chelsea fcw #niahm charles #canwnt

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lendeah · 3 months

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The currents of destiny

Chapter 3: Guilt and remorse.

Summary: In his third vision, Astarion observes himself trapped in a relentless cycle of thirst, remorse, and yearning within the shadows, witnessing others moving forward while he goes back to familiar patterns of the past. Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav Word Count: 3.6k Tags: Heavy Angst, Psychological Trauma, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Psychological Torture (kind of), Emotional Manipulation, Verbal Abuse, but just chapter 2, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

a/n: tysm to @tinystarfishgalaxy for helping me with this chapter <3

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[AO3 Link]

Astarion wept, as his body shook uncontrollably. His thoughts and emotions were swirling, Tav's agonized screams still echoed in his mind, haunting him. And those staring, lifeless eyes... they would forever haunt his darkest dreams. He shuddered at the thought of what he could have become: a soulless monster who would have used and abused Tav without remorse. The weight of guilt and regret bore down on him like a heavy cloak, suffocating and unrelenting. He wanted to kill that version of himself, he wanted to erase him from existence.

He briefly believed they were returning to the vast emptiness of space. But before he could process that thought, he was being violently pulled once more. Then, everything went black.

Astarion's heart clenched with fear as he quickly realized that he was inhabiting another body, once again a different version of himself. His mind was still spinning from the previous vision, but he forced himself to calm down and focus on his current reality. None of this is real, he told himself, you can still change everything.

The first thing he noticed was the emptiness in his head, the silence. The lack of parasite buzzing over his senses. That explained why his limbs felt heavier and slower, without the surge of power he had grown used to. He was back to being a vampire spawn.

We won, then. We beat the Nether Brain.

He would have laughed, had he not noticed the feelings coursing his body: regret and a deep-seated remorse. It was a stark difference from the empty void of emotions that had possesed him while inside his Ascended body. This version... this future Astarion, was filled with nothing but guilt. And hunger, so deep it shook his frame to its core.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was crouched against a damp stone wall, his body weakened and exhausted. The putrid stench of the city sewers filled his nostrils, adding to his misery.

His clothes, ragged and wet, were clinging uncomfortably to his body. Hells, he looked like a wild animal.

Disgusting.

Astarion's senses heightened as his body caught a whiff of fresh blood, human blood. His stomach growled and he could feel the thirst coursing through his veins, demanding to be sated. How long had it been since he last fed? Judging his estate, he estimated it had probably been weeks, if not a whole month.

He hadn't felt this feral in years. Since...

Since Cazador buried him alive for a year. Have I been starving myself?

His body forced itself to stand up, legs shaky and weak from lack of nourishment. He stumbled through the dark corridors of the sewers, following the scent of fresh blood like a predator on the hunt. The sound of voices echoed off the walls, growing louder as he neared his destination. He froze at the end of the tunnel, straining to make out their words.

"There's another body. How many innocent civilians have to disappear before someone takes action?" A woman's voice said.

"I know. We're doing our best to find those damned bloodsuckers. But the Dukes seem to have other priorities at the moment." Another male voice responded wearily.

Astarion's heart sank as he realized what they were talking about. Shit, the spawn. They are in the sewers too.

From behind the corner, he could see two Fists standing outside. Their weapons of choice were stakes and swords, a comical sight if he wasn't in so much pain.

He crouched down, trying to gather his strength and formulate a plan. But before he could process everything that was happening, his body was wracked with searing agony. His vision blurred as he fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach.

Then, everything was a blur.

His body launched itself at the unsuspecting guards. The sudden attack threw them off guard, their shocked cries echoing through the darkness.

What are you doing? Stop, you bastard!

Astarion willed his new body to halt, but it paid him no mind. With ruthless precision, he sank his fangs into one of the guards' necks, and tore the soft skin in seconds, hot blood pouring all over him. The other guard scrambled for his weapon but Astarion was too fast, too desperate. He struck again. However, the guard managed to slide the sword out in the process and lunged forward. Astarion barely managed to dodge it, the blade grazing his arm instead of piercing through his heart. The pain shot through him like lightning but did little to deter him.

He buried his fangs in the man's neck, relishing in the warm rush of blood as it filled his mouth and quenched his hunger. The guard struggled against him, but Astarion was far too strong in his primal state.

It wasn't until both guards lay lifeless at his feet that Astarion snapped out of his bloodlust-induced haze.

The silence was deafening. He released the limp body from his grasp, letting it slump onto the cold stone floor. The hunger had subsided for now, and he was left with a chilling emptiness; a void that echoed with his victims’ last moments.

He felt…dirty. Disgusted with himself and the monstrous actions he was forced to commit while under the control of this abhorrent future self once again.

The future version of Astarion sat in a corner of the room, his back against the unforgiving stone wall. He crouched over the blood-soaked floor, holding his knees tightly to his chest.

A bitter laugh escaped his body. "Look at what you've become," he muttered, "A monster...a butcher." His voice was barely a whisper, drowned out by the steady drip, drip, drip of the sewer pipes.

Oh, hush, Astarion supplied inside his brain, you are just trying to survive.

Survival was indeed his main priority now. With no friends or allies, Astarion had to do whatever it took to stay alive. And if that meant giving into his vampiric instincts and becoming a ruthless killer, then so be it.

But even as he tried to justify his actions to himself, guilt gnawed at him from within. One thought kept resurfacing in his mind - Tav. The one who had shown him kindness when all others saw him as nothing more than a tool to be used.

How could he face her after what he had done? Would she still see him as someone worthy of forgiveness or would she turn away in disgust?

How did you even get to this point? he asked himself.

Astarion's future self felt a strong urge to chase after her and make amends, begging for her forgiveness and asking her to take him back. But his pride wouldn't allow such a display of vulnerability. Instead, this version of himself reveled in the anger he felt towards her for not helping him complete the ritual. After all, it was her fault this had happened. If only he had ascended, he wouldn't have resorted to killing innocent people now.

No, he told himself, you would be killing her, you idiot.

But as always, he didn't listen. Didn't know.

As his eyesight blurred and shifted, Astarion found himself in another scene. It was late at night, and he was slowly making his way to the Elfsong tavern. Astarion felt a sense of unease, concerned that future him might harm his companions. But then it became clear: he was there to beg for forgiveness at last.

He watched for a moment as his body hesitated at the entrance of the inn. From within, he could hear the sound of laughter and music spilling out into the night. Through the dimly lit window, he saw his companions seated around their usual table, their faces glowing with warmth and camaraderie. There was Wyll, spinning tales of his latest exploits while Shadowheart listened with feigned indifference. His heart ached as he saw Tav, alive and well, her eyes sparkling as she shared a story with Lae'zel and Gale, her laughter more enchanting than any song sung in this tavern.

His heart swelled at the sight of her, revealing on seeing her unharmed, happy. If he had been in his own body, he would have cried of relief. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to hold her in his arms again, to feel the warmth of her embrace. What he would give to feel it right now.

But instead, he felt future Astarion's heart sink. A sense of longing for the life he could have had if he had chosen a different path. He could have been sitting with them, laughing and sharing stories instead of being haunted by guilt and regret, like a wild animal, resorting to living in the sewers to escape the sunlight.

The weight of his shame was too much to bear, and he couldn't bring himself to ask for their forgiveness. He convinced himself that they were better off without him anyway. As tears threatened to spill from his eyes, he glanced one last time at the scene before turning away from the window. He didn't want them to witness his broken state - humiliated, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self.

And a part of him, real him, thought it was true. They seemed so happy without him, like he had never been there to begin with.

Do they even miss me?

His consciousness was pulled away once again. When he came to his senses, he found his body standing pressed against the cold stone wall of an abandoned alley. He took in his surroundings, trying to make sense of this new place. Through his future self's eyes, he sensed he was scanning the darkened streets for potential victims. His gaze lingered on a handsome young merchant, who despite his drunken state, still exuded a certain innocence. His body stepped out from the shadow, a charming smile already playing on his lips. The image was too familiar, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he had somehow traveled back in time instead of forward into the future.

The merchant's eyes, predictably, lit up at the sight of him.

"Well well, what do we have here? A handsome stranger wandering about all on his own?" he purred, trailing his finger down the man's arm. "My dear sir, it's far past bedtime for such daring adventure on your own."

The merchant blushed and stuttered something about getting lost. Astarion chuckled softly and offered to escort him back to his lodgings - an offer the man happily accepted.

His real self could only watch everything in disgust and shame; he had reverted back to his old ways. And this time, he wasn't even under the influence of his master.

Guiding him down an even narrower alleyway, Astarion couldn’t help but curse himself inwardly for what he knew he was about to do. Astarion wished he could look away as he saw his body lean in close, his voice a smooth whisper in the man's ear. He could see his blush and giggle, taken in by Astarion's false charm.

Oh, how he wished he could warn him of what was to come. But all he could do was watch on helplessly as his body continued this dreadful performance he had practiced so many times before.

I am back to being a puppet.

"Astarion?"

His body stiffened at the sound of his name, and he turned to face the voice.

"Tav," his body breathed her name. Their eyes locked, and for the first time in a year, he felt something other than the hunger that had become his constant companion. A sly smirk danced across his lips as he effortlessly masked his true emotions. "Well, well, what brings you to this enchanting alleyway?"

"I could ask you the same," Tav replied, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and shock. She glanced at the merchant standing next to him, stumbling in his drunken stupor. Her eyes filled with sadness as she took in the scene.

There was a tense silence as they stared one another down. Astarion swallowed hard, racking his brain for an excuse that would believably explain his current situation. Before he could come up with a response, Tav spoke again.

"Astarion," Tav uttered again, her voice trembling slightly. "Are you... are you okay?"

No, I am not.

"Of course, darling," he replied smoothly, flashing her a charming smile. "Just enjoying a late-night stroll with this... gentleman." He gestured towards the drunk merchant, who was now leaning heavily on Astarion for support.

Astarion's heart, however, constricted at the concern in her voice. He desperately wanted to tell her the truth, to hold her close, to kiss her breathless.

Do it, tell her. Kiss her. Save yourself.

"Are you sure you're okay, Astarion? You... you can tell me," Tav asked once again, her voice tinged with worry as her eyes flickered between them, clearly not buying his explanation. Astarion could feel her searching gaze boring into him, trying to read him like an open book.

Just as he was about to confess everything, Shadowheart appeared behind her, sliding a hand around her waist.

What?

"Love, what are you doing in an alleyway? You are asking to get murd-" her eyes suddenly locked on Future Astarion. Recognition and shock flashed across her face before it hardened into a scowl.

"Shadowheart," Astarion acknowledged her presence coldly. His gaze was caught on the way Shadowheart's fingers rested possessively on her waist; a sight he found increasingly difficult to stomach.

What is the meaning of this?

For once, Astarion felt the same way as his future self; confusion and hurt mingled with betrayal and anger. Shadowheart and Tav... together? When did that happen?

Tav turned around to look at Shadowheart, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. "I was just..." she began nervously, gesturing towards Astarion and the merchant. "I saw..."

"Astarion." Shadowheart's voice interrupted, cold as ever. Her grey eyes looked past him to the merchant who was almost passed out at this point. "You have poor taste in company these days."

Despite the icy edge to her voice, Astarion could make out a hint of worry in her eyes as she looked at Tav. It was a concern that echoed his own, one that served only to intensify the bitter taste of jealousy creeping up his throat.

"Perhaps," Astarion finally replied, his voice filled with false cheerfulness."But at least he knows how to appreciate a good drink." He then mumbled, "Anyway, I should probably take him home," gesturing towards the unconscious man.

As he started to walk away, Tav weakly protested and broke free from Shadowheart's grasp to approach Astarion. "Hold on!" Tav interjected, still unsteady on his feet. "You still haven't answered my question."

A tense quiet settled over them as they locked gazes once more. Astarion could see the mix of emotions in her eyes - confusion, pain, and yet a glimmer of hope. His other self didn't understand, but he did. He saw right through her.

She wanted him to ask for help, because that would mean he was ready to rejoin their group. She needed to help him. To redeem herself and close the wound he had opened a year ago.

He desperately yearned to do it, to return to his friends, to her. Instead, his body betrayed him and spoke on his behalf, "I assure you, Tav," he declared with stiffness in his voice, fighting to keep his emotions in check. "I am doing perfectly well without you."

Like hell you are!

Tav's face fell at his words, her eyes widening in shock and hurt. But before she could respond, Shadowheart spoke up again, her tone sharp and accusatory. "Oh yes, Astarion. You are the very definition of perfectly well." She directed a pointed look to the boy, who was sobering up and looking utterly confused, "You should go home," she said firmly.

The boy stumbled away, casting a final bewildered look at Astarion before disappearing into the darkness. Astarion watched the boy leave and turned his gaze back to Tav. He could see the disappointment in her eyes, but he couldn't explain or apologize, trapped as he was inside his own mistakes.

Tav hesitated for a moment before talking again

"Why didn't you return? We could have searched for a solution together."

Astarion's heart was heavy with the pain in Tav's voice. However, watching them together, watching how they had moved on without him, was stirring up a sick and ugly sensation within his chest. He could feel the longing consuming him, but his future self chose to focus only on the anger instead. Focus on the pride.

"Yeah, looks like you all missed me so much." Astarion quipped bitterly, glancing between Tav and Shadowheart.

Tav flinched like she had been hit. Astarion wanted to hit himself for it.

"Astarion, we didn't mean to hurt you, I-"

"That's not what it looks like. In fact, it seems like you both have moved on quite easily without me."

"Enough, Astarion," Shadowheart snapped, her patience clearly at its end. "Stop playing the victim. You disappeared without a word. What did you expect us to do? Wait for you forever?"

Yes. Maybe.

Tav's words were softer, her face etched with worry and regret. "You could have come to us... we would have helped you..."

Astarion scoffed. "Like hell you would." His tone was bitter, but he couldn't bring himself to meet their eyes. "You were the reason I left in the first place. Your betrayal."

His body had expected to feel relief upon seeing them again... but all he felt now was an overwhelming sense of loss. The sight of Tav and Shadowheart together brought a reality crashing down on him – they had moved on and he was stuck in the past. In the same toxic cycle from his time with Cazador.

There was another tense silence between them as they stood there in the dark alleyway. Astarion could feel their gazes burning into him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet their eyes again.

Shadowheart spoke up again. "What are you going to do now?"

Astarion shrugged casually. "Who knows? Maybe I'll just find someone else who actually keeps their promises," he said with a tone of bitterness.

But that was far from the truth. He felt completely isolated and alone, with no one to turn to for comfort or support.

Tav glanced at him once more, her head shaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," she said brokenly.

No, I'm the one who is sorry.

The need to reach out was overwhelming. But he could just watch in despair as his body decided to keep quiet, and observe as she silently turned around and left.

Shadowheart, however, stayed put, looking at him dead in the eye.

"I thought you'd come back for her, you know?"

I almost did, he told himself, I almost did, but I am a coward.

"You know, I thought you of all people would understand why I left. How could I stay after she ripped me off my only opportunity at freedom?" Astarion responded, finally meeting Shadowheart's gaze.

He expected anger, but was instead met with deep sorrow.

"When you left, something in Tav... it broke. She cried for you, night after night. For months, Astarion."

Of course, he knew. He had seen the scene at the Elfsong Tavern. However, this version of him hadn't.

He scoffed in an attempt to hide his pain, but Shadowheart continued relentlessly.

"She suffered so much because of your selfishness," Shadowheart said, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I had to pick up the pieces, Astarion. I had to convince her not to... not to lose herself."

Astarion felt a wave of guilt wash over him as Shadowheart's words hit him like a physical blow.

"I'm sorry," was all he could manage to say, his voice breaking with emotion.

Shadowheart's expression softened for a moment before hardening again. "Sorry doesn't fix what you've done. What you said," she replied, her tone biting.

"I know," he mumbled quietly, feeling the weight of his mistakes crashing down on him.

They stood there in silence for a few moments longer before Astarion spoke again. "She's hard not to fall in love with, isn't she?"

Shadowheart's eyes opened in surprise, and the softened slightly.

"Yes. Yes, she is," she replied under her breath.

Astarion shook his head.

"Is she happy?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Shadowheart sighed. "She’s getting there," she admitted quietly. "But she won’t be if you drag her back into your mess now."

And he knew what that meant. Let her go. She is happier without you.

Astarion hung his head, feeling a familiar pain bloom in his chest. He was quiet for a long moment before finally looking back up at Shadowheart.

"I won't," he promised, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

Shadowheart’s gaze bore into him for another moment before she nodded, and finally turned to leave.

"And Astarion?" she called over her shoulder, causing him to look up at her again.

"Hmm?"

"I hope you find your happiness too. You deserve it."

And with that, she walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Astarion watched as she sauntered towards Tav, who was standing a little ways off. He could barely make out the details of her face from where he was standing but even from the distance, he could tell she was beautiful – more beautiful than he remembered.

Shadowheart gently approached Tav, her hand resting on her arm before leaning in for a tender kiss. Astarion couldn't help but feel like an outsider, witnessing this intimate moment between the two. As he watched them, he noticed the way Tav gazed at Shadowheart with such adoration and love - the same way she used to look at him.

He watched their retreating figures until they disappeared into the night. And his heart threatened to break into smaller pieces at the thought that this had probably been their last conversation.

In a flash, Astarion was once again standing in the void, surrounded by darkness. He felt a sense of unease wash over him as he waited for G'axir's voice to come through again.

See now... Astarion? G'axir's voice echoed around him.

See what? All I see are stars. Astarion asked, feeling frustrated at the cryptic messages.

Amidst the shroud of remorse and longing... lies the opportunity to redefine. Hope's whisper still lingers... in a realm unseen.

Tag list: @tinystarfishgalaxy, @imaginarypetlizard, @nanamisfriedstick, @stuckinaoaktree, @madislayyy, @cosywinterevenings, @fandom-garbage, @generalstephkenobi

a/n: I kind of hate G'axir. If I was Astarion I would be throwing hands, ngl. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the last angsty chapter! Thanks for the support! And lmk if you want to be added to the taglist☺️✨

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