#// especially the last gesture KILLS her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blublublujk · 1 year ago

Text

good girl, gone bad

oneshot

word count: 6k

genre: established (secret) relationship

pairing: good girl y/n x bad boy jk

summary:

“I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.” You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.” What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?

warnings: basically just pwp but plot went missing (oops!), swearing, smoker jk (i swear if anyone complains in my inbox i'll haunt you), explicit sexual content; jk has a huge dick ok, consensual recording/pictures, car sex (don't fuck in a car), hickeys, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, breast play, blowjob, fingering, cunnilingus, come shot (on face), slut shaming (again lol), come tasting/swallowing, stomach bulge (my fault i love this one), choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie

a.n: sorry for a late update hope yall dont mind, but i just wanna get rid of all my drafts they are PILING. lol forgive me for only always writing about jungkook, but he's so easy to write about. he breathes, and i instantly open my notes app (im not even joking). this has been sitting in my drafts since his LA trip (iykyk) it sparked a conversation and i wrote it. i want that man bad... and im lesbian :D

ANYWAYS enjoy and STREAM GOLDEN for our golden bunny <3

p.s: i'll probably come back to this couple but its a oneshot for now... but wouldn't no nut nov be fun with this jk?? everyone say yesss. ok bye.

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

“Ugh, what a piece of shit.”

Before you even get to ask who, the motorcycle roars back to life across the parking structure belonging to the very one and only, Jeon Jungkook. A group of college jocks crowd around the man. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, he’s not paying it much attention though. He's deep in conversation, laughing at something one of them said, clearly more invested in the joke than anything else around him.

As the laughter dies down, he looks over, eyes connecting while he brings the cigarette to his pierced lip, slowly inhaling the toxic fume. The terribly annoying (yet somehow sexy) tattooed jock on his loud motorcycle winks towards your direction, before selfishly exhaling that poisonous smoke into the air. Fuck, you really, really wanted to hate him too.

“Yuck.” Karina gags with a scrunch to her nose, turning a cold back to them and you’re grateful to her because you almost get stuck in his lustful gaze.

“Yeah… yuck.” You reply with no real meaning somehow managing to convince her you meant it.

“I hate him and his stupid friends. They are killing the Earth slowly and they don’t even give a fuck!” Karina argues in all her given glory and in her environmental science major mindset. “Plus those cancer sticks reek, why must the general public suffer because they can’t last thirty without them.”

Jungkook could last thirty without them. Way more than thirty when you were around him, especially when he was given something (or someone) to entertain himself with, but you couldn't say that aloud so the sudden thoughts stayed safe and sound in your head.

“No, no they don’t. But what can we do?” There’s a sigh and then you clear your throat. “Should we get going now?”

Your arm wraps around hers, gesturing the way back to campus with a swift wave where you both had been meaning to study given that classes finally started cramping in heavy assignments.

“Yes, please.” Karina is quick to sharply turn her heel and walk back towards the building. “I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.”

You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.”

What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?

—-

“You taste disgusting.” There’s a muffled laugh pressed into your lips, as your tongues meet halfway, meeting each other’s lips in a bruising wet kiss. Your ass grinds roughly against his lap, groaning into your mouth while you bring your ass flush down, feeling his soft cock harden below you. His right hand grips your right ass cheek, jiggling it in his hand, before smacking it (with love, of course!).

“Yeah?” Jungkook smirks, bringing his mouth against your throat, sucking and licking everywhere there was space. He sneakily leaves little love bites behind even though he knows you’ll kill him for this later because you have somewhere to be after this. He even bites your ear lobe gently between his teeth, before he cockily whispers. “You love it though.”

The whimper that leaves your mouth should be illegal. It only drives Jungkook crazier.

Both hands find purchase on your ass now, spanking you once again in each cheek. Though Jungkook was a bit disappointed he wasn’t seeing your flushed bare cheeks on top of him, but he guesses he can settle for now. “You gonna let me fuck you now baby?”

He gropes your asscheeks without any hesitation, still leaving wet kisses buzzing onto your skin, stealing a quick kiss from your raw-bitten lips.

“Mm, only if you ask nicely.” You tease, dragging a finger along his jawline.

With this, Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. Your hand comes to fist his hair, while he drops another wet smooch onto your lips. “You know I’d do anything for a piece of this ass angel.”

You smile into the kiss, grinding harder against his now– hard cock. You felt your folds leak of your own arousal. It was so undeniable. The attraction between you two, the desire to take each other apart, to be within each other’s arms. There was no place like Jungkook’s lap. Here you could stay forever.

“Imagine what people would say if they saw you like this baby.” Jungkook starts teasing, tugging your shirt off with no trouble. Your breasts catch his attention, noticing that you are wearing that black lingerie set he had bought for you last Valentine’s Day. “Fuck. Look at you baby.”

He squishes your breasts together, leaning up to kiss the uncovered tender flesh on both sides. You don’t even attempt to hold your moans back. “I– nghhh.”

“Did you expect to get fucked today princess? Hmm? Is this all for me?” Jungkook’s words work like magic, they drip off his sinful tongue like honey. You bring your body flush against his, burying your blushing face against his neck. “Don’t get shy on me baby, tell me. Did you wear this all for me?”

He purrs sweetly and you only nod, cheeks burning red.

It's not like you were embarrassed of him, no in fact, you were happy to announce that the college campus’ certified bad boy is all yours and has been for the past two years.

There was no exact moment to this, the attraction had always been there.

You had first officially met Jungkook in one of your general ed classes. Statistics, to be exact, which he would have one-hundred percent failed had it not been for you passing him the answers mid exams. It wasn’t like that to begin with of course, it took you some convincing. To be fair and to your excuse, it was so hard to say no to those beautiful big brown eyes.

At first, you assumed he was doing this all, acting lost and playing dumb, to get into your pants which he succeeded. However you had enough dignity left to make him work for it. Until you realized those secret smiles, stolen glances, and subtle hand holds were much more than just a silly game. You had fallen for his charm, and against everyone’s advice to stay far away from him, you fell in love with the (not so terrible) bad boy and let him take over your heart completely. It happened so randomly and so all at once. It was confusing, new, but most of all, liberating.

Being with Jungkook was so freeing and the thrill of being caught with him was so worth it. It didn’t matter what people thought of you or him, you both were willing to die on this hill of love.

Jungkook, too, had fallen quickly. How could he not? There was nothing to dislike and everything to love. Your pouty scolds, he looked forward to. The stolen glances across campus were his favorite, a secret only you and him held close to heart. There were times where your cheeks would flush pink, because he would steal kisses from you behind the campus library. You were seriously his favorite person ever.

“Jungkook stop! What if someone sees us?” You would whisper-shout, a pout would form against your will.

Jungkook would just kiss your worries away again and again and then say. “You’re the cutest little thing alive baby.”

“Are you trying to change the subject?” It was hard to speak between kisses, that and the fact that he would squish your cheeks together like the adorable boyfriend he was.

“I don’t know. Is it working?” His reply was cheeky and lips would start trailing down your neck and then you determined, yes. Yes, it is working. Fuck it all.

It’s safe to say, he was yours since the start of it all, as you were his. Wrapped in each other’s fingers before anyone had realized it, now you were inseparable.

“Answer me princess.” Jungkook pulls you back gently, observing your flushed face. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Of course, this only makes you blush harder, but you do manage to admit. “Y-Yes… I wore this only for you. Always for you.”

Jungkook smiles, pecking your cheek. “Then I’m the luckiest man alive angel.”

He cradles your face, before leaning in to kiss you. This time, you guys take your time. Your mouths stay closed, taking the time to really feel the plushy feeling against your own and enjoy each other’s presence. You felt as if you were floating in clouds.

“Jungkook.” You mumble onto his lips and he hums, but that’s not enough so you call his name once more with intent. “Jungkook.”

He pulls back with a questioning look. “Yes, my love?”

“Can you please just fuck me already?” The words come out barely above a whisper, even after fucking you so many times, you could be so shy at times.

Jungkook breaks out into a bunny-like grin, holding back a stifled laugh. “So much for wanting to make me say please, look at who’s pleading now.”

“J-Jungkook…” Your face goes hot again and he laughs once more, patting your ass softly.

“Okay. Okay, my love. Enough teasing, I’ll fuck you since you asked so nicely baby.” Jungkook takes his sweet time taking off his own shirt, and pulling your skirt off. It was a bit tricker, given you were both in your car which was not fit for two people even in the backseat, but you guys always made it work.

You were still scared to ride to campus with him as much as he begged you to because it would blow your secret relationship, but fucking on campus has yet to be off-limits. Mainly because Jungkook fucks you all too well, and you aren’t one to say no to good dick (oops).

He attaches his mouth right above the bare skin of your left breast. He holds your tits in his hands, pushing them together, stuffing his face right between them. Jungkook makes sure to pay attention to both breasts (it’s only fair), rubbing your hard buds through the black lace which hardly covers them. You bite back a moan, feeling him rut up against your heat, his hard length pressing stiffly against you, your walls already clenching, desperate to feel him inside you.

His tattooed hand slips below, releasing the nipple he had been tugging on earlier. You feel the tip of his fingertips brush against your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Surely by now, you were dripping onto the lace. His erection is still pressing against your inner thigh. “D-Don’t wait then.”

Your boyfriend smiles, bringing his lips to yours. “Behave. You’ll get some dick inside you soon.”

Like the brat you were, your eyes rolled back so used to being spoiled. He pays it no mind though because his tongue comes out again, licking your lips apart. Your tongues meet once more, this time you suck his tongue into your mouth, brushing it against the roof of your mouth. He taste quite bitter, it’s the cigarette from earlier, yet somehow and against all judgement, he tastes fucking delicious. Especially when a grunt slips from his throat, feeling you roll your barely covered folds against his fingers.

He allows this, putting more pressure with two fingers, feeling you drench his fingertips even through your panties. Jungkook pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth, spit mixing as he reciprocates the favor, sucking gently on your tongue. You tasted like the strawberries you had earlier for lunch and Jungkook groans, greedily swallowing the taste in your mouth.

What an innocent sweet little thing you were and he was about to ruin you all.

Cigarettes and strawberries.

Quite the pair.

You whine into his mouth, unable to hold back much longer. “Please, Jungkook…”

He smirks against your mouth. How much he loved the way you fell apart on his cock. Especially more, when he had barely had his hands on you and you were already begging for more. Jungkook pulls back, but not before you whine a soft “no.” He holds your cheeks in his palms, forcing you to look directly into his hazy eyes.

“Imagine if people knew baby.” His voice comes out more sultry, rough around the edges. His thumb carrasses your cheek, patting your mouth open. “How much of a slut you were for this dick.”

His words make you mewl (he knows how much you get off to this thought), he slowly eases two fingers into your mouth, holding your chin in place. You made sure to suck on them as he liked, your tongue coming flat against them.

Jungkook bucks his hips into yours, chest rising while he watches you suck, like the good girl you were. “Imagine if they really knew, baby? Such a sweet girl like you, with someone so dangerous and reckless like me. What would they say? Hmm?”

He pulls out his fingers, seeing them barely glisten under the light.

“I- I don’t know.” Your voice is dry and soft yet, you are incredibly horny.

“You don’t know? I have a few ideas.” Jungkook chuckles, hands brushing along your back. “Can this come off?”

He tugs your bra from behind and you hesitate to nod permission. “Good, I wanna watch them bounce when I finally fuck you.”

By now, you have given up resisting him, so you moan pathetically as he shreds your bra with ease and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking the tender bud into his tongue, flicking it and placing it between his teeth. He tugs and licks the sting away, watching with hooded eyes as you squirm against him. Your face burns imagining the idea.

What if people knew? How would your friends react? They would surely be disappointed, Jungkook was good for nothing but trouble. Yet, he was perfect to you. You were willing to defend him from hell and back. Whatever it took for them to believe you.

Jungkook moves to the other bud, placing it into his mouth, cupping and gripping your breasts. His mouth was hot and heavy against your nipple, his tongue caressing the hard bud. He squeezes them one last time before letting them drop, watching them bounce gently against your chest. Yup, Jungkook was the luckiest man alive. There was nothing better than this moment right here.

Heat travels your body quickly, feeling your own chest rise, struggling to breathe in the steamy car. Your boyfriend looks down, communicating with his eyes instead of actually saying anything, your hands quickly move to his belt, tugging them off and throwing it anywhere else. Desperately, you unbuckle his jeans, harshly pulling his boxer down, just enough to watch his dick spring out. The flushed, wet length smacks against his stomach, watching as his abs clench at the sensation. If you stare any longer, you’ll start drooling. “So good for me angel.”

There’s no time to waste.

“Wanna suck you off.” You breathe out, voice filled with desire and lust, clearly it takes over because usually his girlfriend was much shyer and timid, but that all disappeared when Jungkook’s cock was present.

“Yeah?” Jungkook watches you drop on your knees, your pretty knees will for sure suffer the consequences of your horny choice, but there was no stopping this. He pats his thighs as he leans back to give you enough space. “I’m all yours, baby girl.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek when he feels your warm mouth wrap around his dick. Your tongue comes out messily, practically salivating and dripping all over him. There’s probably not a single day that goes by that you aren’t sucking his dick, but it was quite the experience every damn time.

“F-Fuck, I wish you could see yourself.” He struggles a bit because the sight is fucking sinful and if people knew you like he did, they wouldn’t believe the person in front of him.

His personal little cockslut.

You pop off for a second, hand still wrapped around his length covered in your spit. “Yeah? Then take a picture for me, Kook.”

Double fuck.

When you first started dating Jungkook, you were against any pictures at all. After time passed and to his luck, you came around and you would let him take pictures, but only if he promised your face wasn’t in the frame. Now, his camera roll is covered with images of you and your blooming relationship. You didn’t care anymore about covering or blurring your face out. His camera roll consisted of just about everything, pictures of you sleeping peacefully against his chest as you would nap, videos of you laughing on the random adventures he would take you on, but never images of you nude. Never ever was he allowed anything that could probably incriminate you both, even if he would beg, ever-so sweetly. It seems like you came around after all. Bless you.

“Fuck, don’t talk to me like that princess, you have no idea what that does to me.” He’s never heard you sound so fucking sexy. Jungkook bites his lip, recovering his phone that had dropped earlier on the carpet. “You sure about this baby?”

“Yes.” Then you are back on his cock and he shudders, already snapping a few pictures. Your eyes looked up at the camera, making a show out of it all.

Jungkook tries controlling his heavy breathing but with a sinful tongue like yours, it’s impossible. “Can I record this princess, only if you’ll let me, of course.”

You take him deeper into your throat and nod furiously on his cock. You trusted him enough, you knew Jungkook could never hurt a single soul, unless they tried him. Point is, he would never do anything to break that trust so hell yeah, why not add more to his long collection.

“God, you are so perfect baby. Made for me and only me.” Jungkook’s voice is nothing short of possessiveness. He presses record, caressing your hair softly, almost petting you for your work like the good girl you were for him. “Imagine if they knew how well you take cock baby. How perfect those plump lips look around my dick. You’re like a dream come true princess, my personal cockslut.”

You moan around his length, loving the bitter taste on your tongue and Jungkook has to hold back from fucking your throat, though he thinks you’ll love it anyways.

“Can I fuck your throat?” His voice is raspy and you open your mouth wider, nodding so prettily with dick stuffed in your mouth. Jungkook is careful when placing your hair in a little makeshift ponytail for the meantime and as best as he can with one hand as he starts to thrust into your warm mouth. “So beautiful and all mine. Isn’t that right princess?”

You don’t get to reply, but the vibrations of your moans that manage to run through his cock answer for you and it almost makes him smile. What a good girl you were. Pretty things like you deserved to be spoiled and he couldn’t wait to give you the fucking world.

And was he fucking loving the show you were putting on for him becoming more needy and desperate on camera, your eyes rolled as he brutally used your throat for his liking.

Jungkook bites at his bottom lip as he begins to roll his hips with much more force, feeling your throat take him down with greed. “Fuck baby, your throat feels amazing. Taking me so good.”

He lets you go when he feels you tap his thigh and you gasp for air, tears threatening to leak down your face. “W-Want you to come on my face.”

Your voice is hoarse and his eyes widen at your sweet request.

“Aren’t you just perfect for me today baby. Just you wait, you’ll get the best dick of your entire lifetime.” Not that you would know since he was your first and he knows that, proudly carries that in his cocky ego, but you always believed him. No one could fuck you better than this, you were sure. You bat your eyes at his promise and he comes down to kiss you messily, the camera records jackshit, but it captures your whiny moans and the sound of your lips smacking against one another. He pulls off with one last kiss and adjusts the camera frame back towards you as he takes his hard length and slaps his swollen, wet dick along your cheek. “Open up princess, I’m really fucking close.”

You take him in with no hesitation and go to fucking work. Slurping and licking all over his length, your chin dripping with saliva, but you don’t even care anymore because his grunts and whines keep you going.

Every now and then you look up at the camera making sure you do your best to keep him coming back. You know he will probably rewatch this every night that you aren’t there with him. And your predictions are correct because Jungkook’s already planning on watching this tonight and jacking off to it while you are out with Karina doing God knows what. All he knows is his sweet girl will be doing something productive while he’ll be coming undone in your gracious honor.

“I’m close baby.” He groans sexily, and his breathing starts to become sharp. “Look up baby, right into the camera, gonna come all over that perfect fucking face.”

Doing as he says, you look up sucking him dry, your hands come to relieve what you can’t cover with your tongue. His hand pushes you off for a second. “Tongue out baby.”

He fucks his fist and it doesn’t take long before he squirts his load all over your face, grateful that most of it lands on your tongue, you swallow it all immediately, humming gracefully at the salty taste.

Jungkook’s eyes are blown out as he catches his breath and lets his dick flop back down against his thigh, you look like a fucking sin and he must be the Devil because he’s about to commit about thirty tonight. “Give me a second princess.”

He says between breaths as he stops recording with one last picture of your come-soiled face, still breathing heavily as he throws his phone on the floor again, thankful that he has something for later. You giggle against him and he almost awes as you throw your head against his bare thighs into a laughing fit. “Okay.”

He huffs a dry laugh and pulls you up. “Times up. Come here.”

Jungkook is quick to capture you in a sloppy kiss, not minding the leftover mess of come on your face, he doesn’t wanna mess up his masterpiece just yet. You soon grow desperate in his arms, but this time he doesn’t mess around.

“Lay down.” Your bare back lands on the seats and he shoves himself between your thighs. Again, it’s steamy and fucking cramped in your car, but you both couldn’t care any less right now.

His tongue hits your slit not bothering to move your matching panties, but the effect is almost the same. He licks a long strip watching you soil the silky lace mixing his spit with your own arousal.

You moan sweetly as your legs come apart letting him completely devour your heat. Jungkook pulls off, tugging your spoiled little black panties to the side and continues on with his mission. His tongue finds your clit and you swear you could come like this.

“R-Right there. Please.” Your boyfriend doesn’t let up either, eating your sweet pussy like it deserves. His tongue flicks your bud, building the sensation in your tummy. Jungkook sucks on your clit selfishly.

His chin is covered in your arousal. He’s humming and moaning deep inside your pussy, your juices stick onto his tongue like candy and he greedily swallows the treat whole.

“B-Baby.” Your voice is struggling like his was earlier, but it’s there. He lifts his face from your heat, eyes in a lust-filled trance. Jungkook knows he’s pussy-whipped, but at least he admits his problems!

“Yes, my baby.” Jungkook’s eyes are blown out and he looks just as wrecked as you are.

“C-Can I take a picture?” He almost gapes at your request, the amount of times you took him by surprise today. At this point, he would let you do anything, fuck his morality!

“Do whatever you want princess. Pictures, videos. I’m all yours.” He gives you his full consent and permission to do anything so you are quick to grab his phone (you’ll send them over to yourself later) and start snapping pictures while he dives back in for seconds.

Jungkook keeps your legs open while you are a whimpering mess above him, struggling to get the best picture. You have no idea how he was doing this himself, the pictures come out blurry as he continues to devour you as if it was his last meal.

He also puts on a show for the camera like you did so nicely earlier for him. Jungkoook’s eyes hood as he stares up, he even winks for the shot. If college didn’t ever work out for either of you, this would be something to look into. Good thing that was not the case, at least for you, his little straight A student.

“I’m g-gonna come.” This only makes your boyfriend go crazier between your folds. He drops eye-contact with the camera and instead solely focuses on that pretty pussy presented for him. Jungkook’s tongue is sin itself, not letting up once as more arousal drips out of you. He slowly teases a finger inside, building your orgasm quickly as he fucks you open with his middle finger. “I’m– nghh. Fuh-fuck!”

The sentence is never finished as you start to squirt onto his tongue, creating your own little masterpiece on his face. Jungkook has never swallowed anything down faster than right now and he’s loving every second of it. Completely pussy-whipped and all, but at least he’s happy!

Your boyfriend finally detaches himself from your heat and the sight is nearly adorable. His hair is now all fucked up and he’s a sticky mess everywhere (you are sure you look no better).

“Yum, I could do that all day.” Jungkook shamelessly says.

“Mm, I’m sure.” You say coming down from your own orgasm, he gives you a few seconds to breathe as you set his phone down again. Jungkook takes his shirt from the floor and wipes himself clean. He does the same but it’s no use, the come that landed on your face has dried up and he doesn’t wanna scrub it off and end up hurting your precious face.

Jungkook kisses your cheek affectionately as an apology.

“There’s dry come on my face right?” You start to scold him, but he smiles with all his teeth apologetically and you forgive him at that moment.

“Guilty.” He smirks, proud of his work, he thinks you truly haven't looked better.

Wrapping arms and legs around your boyfriend you whisper innocently. “I was promised dick of a lifetime, unless… unless you lied to me?”

Jungkook scrunches his nose cutely while he looks at your perfect pouty face, doe-eyes begging to be fucked. “I never lie, not to you at least.”

He makes you laugh and he detangles your legs from his waist. “Now let me focus, I have a reputation to uphold.”

There’s no laughing once two fingers press into you and you gasp at the invading feeling, but the stretch only burns for a while before it turns into pleasure and you are whimpering at his touch. “Fingers so deep.”

He smiles and you throw your head back. “Yeah? My dick goes even deeper baby, I’m just making sure you can take it.”

“I can take it.” You breathe out against his pink lips. “I was made for you.”

The taller’s eyes nearly eat you alive, fuck you were so sexy. “That you were baby. My perfect little cockslut.”

His fingers pull out of you brutally and you whine, but he kisses you roughly making you forget the loss. A hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it with purpose. You squirm in his hands and he pops off your lips.

Fingers coated with your arousal trace your lips and you take them in greedily, sucking your own juices off the tattooed fingers, moaning at the delicate taste, his other hand still locked around your throat.

“That’s my girl. All fucking mine.” You nod around his fingers and he finally lets go, gasping for fresh air. “‘M gonna fuck you now baby.”

Your legs fly open in response, letting him have his way with you.

“Do me a favor?” He asks while taking his hard length in his hand, jerking himself off while he awaits your response.

“What?” You hum, confusion written all over your face.

“Record this for me. I want you to see how I break you apart. How this pretty pussy makes a mess all over my dick. I want you to remember this fuck for the rest of your life.” His voice drops a few octaves and you can’t help but gasp and moan at his vulgar use of words.

You used to be innocent, at least, that’s what Jungkook used to think. In a way, he thinks you still are. Untouched and pure, only for his eyes and his hands to touch. Jungkook is honored that he was your first, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was gentle and took care of you every step of the way. It was like that until you were begging and pleading for more. Sweet then, and sweet now.

He’s created a little monster, but he knows that your heart is pure and that’s what he loves most about you.

“Okay, yes.” His phone is back in your hands and you click record, watching him line-up his cock. Jungkook groans as he disappears snuggly inside you. “Mmm.”

He lets you get used to the feeling and once he feels your breathing stabilize he starts to thrust himself with strong strokes inside you.

Like the first time, you are struggling with the phone because you can’t stop shivering and shaking, you feel him in your guts and recording is much harder than pictures because it lasts longer and you can't stay still for that long. Not with dick inside you.

“K-Kook. I— oh.” You stop to moan when he hits your g-spot and he continues ramming that same spot over and over. “I- I can’t. Hand’s shaking.”

Your sweet boyfriend grabs the phone and lets you settle yourself. “That’s okay princess, I got you. Just lay there, I’ll take care of you.”

He records himself ramming into you for a few minutes, watching himself disappear into you on camera. The taller one can't even believe this is his reality. How did this even happen and most of all with him of all people? He truly was the luckiest man alive!

“‘S deep, Kook.” He fondles one of your breasts as he keeps a harsh pace, rubbing the hard nub with his thumb.

“Yeah baby? Tell me where you feel it.” He whispers loving the way you tremble, your gaze struggling to keep up with his.

“Right here.” You touch right below your belly, palm flat against the feeling of his cock inside you. “So so deep.”

You mumble something else, but he doesn’t get to hear it because your high pitched moans drown everything out. He lets go of your breast watching them bounce as he continues to pound straight into your sweet spot.

The camera catches it all though. The mess between your thighs look just as delicious on film as they do in real time. The sounds you make, the squelching noise that is being created by his cock going deep inside you, and most of all, it captures your beautiful face as it comes apart.

He presses on your stomach right where your own palm rests and you strangle out a whine. “I- I can’t. T-Too much.”

“You can take it. Remember?” His dick tears through you from the inside and you start yelling when he increases his pace. He’s fucking you mercilessly now and you can’t control the sounds that escape. “You were made for me, princess.”

“Yes, yes, I am.” You sound beautiful, but you would kill him if you guys got caught now especially in the position you guys are in.

His firm hand finally comes off your stomach and instead two fingers go inside your mouth, muffling your screams and whines.

The car rocks back and forth. He’s sure people know what the fuck is going on, the windows are foggy as fuck, for fuck’s sake, but you would hate him much worse for not finishing you off.

“Mmff, don— stopff.” He nearly giggles as you struggle to speak, but he keeps his promise quite well. He fucks you ever harder and deeper, his cock will surely fall off after this, but it’s all worth it. He slams inside, bottoming out fully before pulling out and repeating the same steps. “Fuhh-uk.”

“You like that baby?” Jungkook rasps feeling you squeeze tightly around him, which only means one thing, you are really fucking close. “Gonna come all over my cock princess?”

“Mmff.” You are quick to nod and hum sweetly. He decides to pull his fingers out, spit dripping all over. “Yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Harder Kook- ah!”

Jungkook almost forgets he’s recording and he centers the camera again, wanting to capture every last second of this. You are glistening all over, he’s made a complete mess of you, but he is no better. Jungkook is dripping sweat and yet, that doesn’t stop his mean and precise strokes against your velvet walls, stretching you in ways you didn’t even know were possible.

The final straw is when you feel his messy fingers start toying with your clit and you are coming once again all over your back seats and wetting his cock just how he likes it. Being a squirter had its own perks with a boyfriend like Jungkook because that meant he never stopped fucking you until you completely had nothing more to give.

Jungkook curses when he starts to see your orgasm trinkle out, he fucks you all through it though, feeling the water-like pressure against his slit. And it doesn’t take long before an orgasm catches up to him.

“Inside.” You plead with a pout, eyes completely blown out.

With one last curse Jungkook comes deep inside your walls. He catches his breath for a few moments before pulling out slowly, making sure to capture the dribble of his come which sadly hangs onto your hole. “Push it out for me princess.”

“Nooo, we’re gonna make a mess Kook.” Jungkook shakes his head, a smile on his face because a mess has already been made.

“I’ll clean it. Now, push it out baby.” You almost cover your face because you are sure you turned red, but you start to push his seed out of your hole and he’s tempted to fuck it back inside.

“Fuck. That’s it baby. Perfect comeslut. Isn’t that right?” He stops recording once he’s gotten the shot he wanted and he starts to wipe you down with his shirt, lucky enough that he has a back-up hoodie to cover him after he’s done.

“Yes, all yours.”

You both smile against each other’s lips before he whispers. “I love you princess.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible baby.”

—-

JK❤️: hiiii 🙂

me: hi baby :) everything okay?

JK❤️: marvelous 😇 i just came watching that video we took earlier ;))

me: baby! 😠 i'm out with karina! can you not talk about sex for two seconds while im out

JK❤️: sure! just came all over myself totally wasn't watching our sextape back ;)))

me: nice talk jungkook.

JK❤️: come home soon~~ i miss you :((((

me: love you too lol

JK❤️: not more than me. come home soon im serious!!!

me: i'll see you later jungkook. ❤️

JK❤️: 😠😠😠

me: ❤️❤️❤️

#jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #bts x y/n #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 28 days ago

Note

i am living for some angst 👀

especially some satoru angst

Hold me. Console me.

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of poor mental health, depiction of a panic attack, Satoru’s a little bit of an asshole here.

An: Same… same. Before you read this and blame me for how fucked this story is, know that one of my moots (cough. cough. @theuniversesnepobaby cough.) was sending me sad angsty edits last night. this is partially her fault too.

Satoru was normally a very doting and attentive boyfriend. He’s the type to beg to be in your presence. He’d kill to feel your touch against his skin. “Casual” isn’t a word in his dictionary. When he loves, he loves loudly.

So when he got quiet with his love, your body started to fill with a sense of dread. Cold and bitter feelings crawled their way between you two. No longer did you two laugh until you were out of breath and red in the face. No longer did he surprise you with gifts or try to scare you when you’re unaware of his presence.

His strong arms hadn’t wrapped around you in so long. The ruthless chill of being utterly alone plagued you, while Satoru seemed fine. He was even taking on extra hours at his job. So many nights he didn’t come back until nearly midnight.

How could he not see what’s happening? How could he not notice how much you’re drowning?

“I’m going out.” His words are flat with no care put into them. He’s telling you because he feels as if it’s obligatory — not because he doesn’t want you to worry.

“Where are you going?” So many times have you tried to reach out. It was as if you two were passing back and forth a candle of your relationship. You had ignited the flame and passed it to him so many times, but each time, he snuffs it out without a second thought — leaving you in the dark. Maybe one more time, you metaphorically light the candle in hopes to kinder your relationship…

“Out.” Flame snuffed.

“Oh.” He’s done it so many times, but it hurts just as bad each and every time. Being single wouldn’t hurt this bad. At least you wouldn’t be getting rejected by your own boyfriend on a daily basis.

“See ya.” He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he grabs his coat and saunters out the door. Another night spent alone. Another night filled with a barely eaten tv dinner and a shitty reality tv show droning on in the back while you doomscroll on your phone.

You two use to watch these reality tv shows together and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Satoru would hold you so close to his body, and he’d whine anytime you tried to adjust. When was the last time that happened? You never suspected the end of affectionate gestures would come while you two were still in a relationship.

You check Geto’s story on instagram. Sometimes, you’d catch small glimpses of Satoru in the back. Sometimes they were at a cafe or an arcade together. Tonight, it seemed as though Suguru was at very packed party scene.

You hold your breath in your lungs as you rewatch the story again and again — searching for a white head of hair. Your boyfriend makes it too easy for you to stalk him. Though, it feels like a fitting punishment for the turmoil he’s put you through.

No Satoru in sight. You sigh quietly before you check Shoko’s story. It was less likely that Satoru would be captured there, but he has made his appearances in the past. It seemed like tonight Shoko wasn’t present at whatever rager Suguru was at. She posted a picture of her beautifully written notes. She must be studying.

Nanami never posts on his story, so you don’t even bother going to check his barren profile. Haibara never features Satoru in his stories, so you skip his as well. This leaves you with one last option.

Your hand is a little shaky as you click on Utahime’s story. You don’t know when it started, but your cheeks and ears were wet with tears already. Your body had some sort of sick sixth sense for knowing when something was wrong, and something was terribly wrong.

You had always had your little insecurities about Utahime ever since Satoru indulged that he had a small crush on her back in high school. Of course, these were just fleeting thoughts. Up until recently, you knew with full confidence that you had Satoru’s heart. He wouldn’t stray from you.

You didn’t have that same confidence anymore. Satoru had withdrawn, and it seemed as if he took his heart with him.

You hate being right. You wish you were wrong sometimes. On Utahime’s story, she’s seemingly at the same party that Suguru’s at. Her story is littered with pictures of her with other girls that you don’t recognize, videos of the loud music and people dancing in a crowd, and there’s just one last video on her story that makes your heart sink to your stomach.

Your boyfriend’s pretty blue eyes illuminated by the flash from her back camera. He smiled and laughed as Utahime filmed him. His face was littered with wine red lipstick kiss marks. Utahime had a grab on your boyfriend’s collar, obviously trying to hold his drunk self still while she filmed his crime.

It felt like a punch straight to your gut. You couldn’t even think straight, but you knew you needed to keep this evidence in case she deletes it. Your fingers shakily screenshot the story, logging the picture of Satoru covered in someone else’s affections.

He was out there feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, receiving kisses from another, dancing to his heart’s content, and enjoying his life while you were sat at home weeping over the loss of your boyfriend.

The tv dinner, now cold and stale, was thrown into the garbage, and whatever little bit you had eaten came up soon after.

The picture was seared into your memory. You didn’t have to look at it to know every minor detail. The way his white hair was messy. His glasses were pulled down ever so slightly to reveal his devastatingly beautiful eyes. His coat hung on his shoulders while his muscular neck peaked out from his shirt.

Every time you closed your eyes, you thought about how many kiss marks he had on his face. How many times had he allowed himself to cheat on you? Was this the first time? Had it gone farther than this? Was it Utahime or some other girl?

You cried yourself to sleep, knowing that Satoru wouldn’t even come home to try to console you.

The next morning, you were disappointed as soon as you woke up. You wished sleep would’ve taken your body and whisked it away far, far from here. Instead, you’re still in your bed, sleeping on a pillow that was stained from your mascara.

If you could, you’d rot in bed all day and try to forget the godforsaken video you saw last night, but you had to make a trip to the restroom.

Forcing your weak body out of bed, you let out a small pained moan. You haven’t eaten a proper meal in so long, and you threw up whatever you did eat yesterday. Your appetite was completely diminished. Satoru use to say that food tasted better when it was shared. He always shared his meals with you, unbeknownst to him, helping you maintain a good schedule for eating.

Your apartment was too bright when you stepped out of the bathroom, and it smelled too much of food. The sizzling on the stove finally caught your drowsy attention.

The man of the hour, Satoru, was at your stove, shirtless and cooking something. Sleeping pants casually hung around his hips, and the dimples at the bottom of his back were so graciously being shown off. Did someone else know about those two little dimples? Even though back was facing you, you could already picture his face, littered with those stupid kiss marks.

Making a b-line for the bathroom, Satoru doesn’t even get the chance to greet you. Your hands were cold and clammy as your body uncontrollably heaved over the toilet. You had nothing left to give, but Satoru was taking everything from you.

Hot tears burned your cheeks as they slipped down your face. You didn’t want to do this. You wished you would’ve never saw that fucking video last night. You should’ve given yourself plausible deniability, but now, you had to face the music.

You slowly returned back to the kitchen after trying your best to clean yourself up. Your eyes focused on Satoru. He was finishing up cooking bacon when his eyes finally met yours and drove daggers through your heart.

“Good morning, sweetness. Something wrong?” He asks with so much care in his tone. You fantasize about hitting him — just once. How dare he suddenly care when you have to check out?

You don’t even know what to say to him. Like, yes, something is clearly fucking wrong, Satoru. I’m dating an unfaithful jerk.

“What are you doing here?” You ask bluntly, wiping your face of the remnants of tears and makeup that had stained your skin. He shouldn’t be allowed to see how badly he hurt you.

“I… live here?” He responds in a questioning tone, furrowing his white eyebrows as he studies your face. “Are you okay?” If only he had asked that question weeks ago, then maybe you two wouldn’t be in this mess today.

“No, and you don’t live here anymore.” You snap, causing him to slightly flinch back — not out of fear but out of surprise. He’s never seen you like this before.

“What do you mean, sweetness? I-“

“Cut the shit, Gojo. Don’t act stupid with me. It’s unbecoming.” You interrupt him completely, not wanting to hear him try to act innocent when you have all the proof you need on your phone.

“Woah. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I don’t really appreciate the insult and the use of my government name. I genuinely have no idea of what you’re talking about.” His voice is firm, laced with sternness, so you can see that he’s not playing around with you.

You take a deep breath until your lungs burn. You want to scream at him, chase him out of the house, and light his shit on fire. Instead, you silently go to retrieve your phone. Pulling up the picture of him with kiss marks all over his face, you shove the screen in his direction.

Gojo takes a few seconds to take in the photo, and he lets his shoulders drop. “This is what you’re mad over, sweetness?” He asks in a much more calm tone, looking up at you with almost puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap while swiping your phone back from his hands. “I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you, but we’re fucking done.”

“You seriously believe that I would cheat on you?” He asks in that stupid arrogant tone of his, completely ignoring your blunt rejection.

“Why else would your high school crush post a picture of you with kiss marks all over your face!? You look so fucking dumb and in love. I fucking-“ Your throat chokes up as if your body was trying to stop you from saying something you didn’t mean. The words “I fucking hate you” die right there on your lips. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you place your palms over your eyes to hide yourself from his impregnable gaze.

“This, again?” He asks in a frustrated tone before letting out an exasperated sigh, He turns the stove off - abandoning his food before walking over to you. He bends his knees a bit to get on your level. “Look at me.” He demands before his hands go to pull yours away from your eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You cry out, jerking back away from his presence. Your breath speeds up. The oxygen isn’t having enough time to enter your bloodstream. Your body is vibrating, forcing the air quickly from your lungs. Everything is moving so fast and why the fuck is he so close to you-? He’s suffocating. Fuck, catch your breath. Whyhim?Whyyou?Why?Why?Whatdidyoudotodeservethis???

A gush of air is blown harshly onto your face, and you can feel the bitter cold feeling of something touching your skin. Your eyes see Satoru’s hand holding an ice cube, guiding it along your warm skin on your arm. Your body is so hot that it’s melting faster than he’s moving it.

“Breathe. Match my movements.” Satoru guides in a calm yet steady tone. Your eyes find the way his chest is slowly rising and falling with each breath. You want to tell him to go play in traffic. You don’t need him to ground you. You don’t need him to do anything for you. You don’t need him.

Still, your body matches his slowly. Your breath becomes more stable, and you can feel your heart starting to settle into a more natural rhythm. Your bleary eyes meet his empathetic ones. It’s been so long since your last panic attack, but he remembers just how to calm you down.

It only makes it all hurt so much worse.

“It’s almost over. You’re doing a good job.” He takes his chances at encouraging you. It feels so sickening, more tears flee your eyes. Where had your boyfriend been, and why is he only just now back after he did the unthinkable?

“Sing with me.” It’s an odd request, but it’s something he found that grounds you better than most grounding techniques. Saying repeatable phrases in melodic tone is comforting for your mind.

“No.”

“Come on… Just one time. Your favorite.” He tries again. Metaphorically, lighting the candle and passing it back to you.

You shake your head in response. Flame snuffed. How can you sing with him after what he did to you?

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe” He starts with such a soft angelic voice. You fold in on yourself unable to keep the sob from escaping your throat. What method of torture is this??

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” He continues, lighting that same candle. It’s so small, barely there anymore from how many times you two have tried to relight it.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” The ice cube has completely melted, and his hand is resting on your arm. He slowly guides you to his chest, and you indulge in his warm embrace for just one last time.

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” His chin rests on top of your head. You’ve always fit so well in his arms. He’d always tell you that whatever higher power is out there made you specifically with him in mind.

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” His skin is so warm against yours, and your tears are sticking to your chest.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” You finally indulge him, softly joining in on his singing. His body slowly starts to guide you two into a soft subtle sway.

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” It’s not that easy. This fucking hurts so bad. Why would your soulmate do this to you?

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” You feel so pathetic — seeking out comfort from the one who hurt you this bad. If your friend could see you right now, she’d slap some sense into you.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.”

You’re sniffling softly into his chest, and his hand carefully pets your hair. “Those kiss marks weren’t from Utahime.” He explains in a soft tone. “We were filming a TikTok. The punchline of the joke was that Suguru and Haibara were the ones who kissed all over my face.”

You look up at him with an unsure look on your face, not understanding what he meant. Satoru carefully picks your phone up, and he clicks on Haibara’s Instagram story from last night.

Sure enough, Haibara posted a TikTok of him, Suguru, Satoru, and Utahime. The camera points at Satoru, showing the kiss marks on his face, and the sound plays. “Bro, what happened to your face? Did you do that?” The camera then pans to Utahime to which she mouths the words, “I did not do that.” The camera then pans to Haibara with smeared wine red lipstick on his lips who says, “Then, who did?” The camera is then panned towards Suguru. He also had wine red lipstick smeared on his lips. “Yeah, who?” The two boys start laughing along with Satoru, and the video cuts.

It only comforts your weary heart slightly.

“It was just a stupid TikTok… I should’ve consulted you or warned you… done anything to respect you.”

“This doesn’t take back how awfully cold you’ve been over the last few weeks…” You sniffle out quietly, and Satoru nods his head knowingly.

“I know, sweetness.. I know. I’ve been terrible.” His arms squeeze you a bit tighter — frightened that he was so close to loosing you, still scared of losing you.

“That’s not an apology… or even a reason.” You try to squirm from his grip, but Satoru holds you tighter.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetness.” He breathes out a shaky breath, and you realize the shakiness in his voice. Glancing up at him, you feel yourself clam up with the sight of tears in his eyes. Christ, his eyes are somehow even more blue when he cries. “Shit got crazy at work then-“

“You still had time to party it up with your friends. You left me without even telling me you love me.” You finally break away from his grasp. The cheating accusation was only the surface of the main problem.

“You know I love you…” His voice is small, and he wipes his eyes of the tears that are threatening to spill.

“Do I know that?”

“Don’t… don’t say that.. I love you more than life itself.” His shaky hands go to reach for you again, but you move back away from him.

“You’re only doing this because I’m leaving you. If I hadn’t mentioned it, you’d probably still be half assed ignoring me.” You stare at him, and your eyes start to water for the nth time today.

“That’s not…” Satoru bites his tongue, and he runs a hand through his messy white hair. “I came home this morning… saw the uneaten tv dinner in the trash… Your reality tv show was still playing in the background, and I saw how you fell asleep with your makeup messed up… I realized then how much I neglected you… I planned a full day for us to enjoy each other’s presence… Please, don’t leave me for this. I can fix this.”

“How did it feel to look at me everyday when I tried so fucking hard to reach you?”

“It killed me.” He breathes out, and he tries to reach for you again. “Please, I missed you so much. Work was just so fucking much, and I don’t know why I took that out on you.”

You stare at him, and you shake your head silently. “You should go, Gojo..” Your voice cracked as it physically pained you to tell him to leave. Your body craves him more than anything else in the world right now.

“No, please, princess. Don’t do this… I can fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes… just don’t leave me…” Satoru’s on his knees, literally begging you not to leave him. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he bows his head to you.

It’s humiliating, but he’s so humiliatingly in love with you. He’s so dead serious. He’d do anything for you to stay with him.

“Toru..”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I-I don’t know why I did it. I just pulled away from you, and I don’t know how it happened. You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened t-to me. Please. I can’t function without you.”

You stare at your boyfriend with concern as his head literally touches the floor beneath him. You don’t even know what to say to him. The thought of leaving him hurts so fucking bad. It steals the breath from your lungs.

“Please don’t leave me… puh…. please stay with me.” He’s groveling at your feet, unable to stop the tears that escape his eyes. The thought of living in a world where you aren’t his girlfriend… he wouldn’t. He’d be a shell of who he once was. He’s nothing without you.

You slowly sit on the floor in front of him, and your hands stroke his soft hair gently. Satoru’s breath slows as he finally gets a grip on his emotions. He realizes just how pathetic he looks. He slowly leans up, and he looks at you. Both of you looked like complete messes, and it was all his fault.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmurs quietly. “but please, I can make this better… I love you so much, sweetness… I wouldn’t dream of ever cheating on you.”

“I don’t forgive you.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The metaphorical flame is so small and shaky, but if you two both shield it from the wind, it’ll be able to grow once more. “You have a lot to prove me, Toru.”

“I’ll spend every waking minute of my life fixing this. I promise you, sweets.”

and he did. Satoru went back to loving you loudly. He didn’t merely shield the flame from being blown out, he fanned it himself so it grew in intensity. He was back to doting on you constantly, and he did frequent check-ins to make sure you weren’t feeling neglected. He took frequent vacations from work with you. He usually took you two out on holidays to wherever your heart desired, but sometimes you two would use his vacation time to just lounge around the house and enjoy each other’s presence.

Your confidence slowly returned to you over time. It wasn’t easy by any means. It took many nights of Satoru’s consistent reassurance and overwhelming love and support for you to slowly start feeling comfortable in your relationship with him.

He put in the work, nourished your flame, and he never made you feel guilty for having a second thought because when he loves, he loves deeply. Casual is not his strong suit.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo angst #satoru gojo #satoru angst #jjk angst #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu satoru #jjk satoru

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poisonlove · 1 month ago

Text

The Addams curse | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

A/N: Okay, I admit it. I read a story that inspired me so much that I "stole" the idea

Wednesday was painfully aware of the curse she inherited from her family: the Addams curse. It was a curse that had existed since the 5th century, binding an Addams to their soulmate. A curse that would drive one to madness if rejected by that person, a madness that would torment them even after death.

As alluring as that last thought sounded, Wednesday didn’t want to become a slave to another person.

And she especially had things to do.

Just the thought of her father's expression when he looked at Morticia sent a warm, nauseating sensation to her stomach, a warmth that was far from pleasant. It was a reminder that in her life she would encounter… her other half. She would prefer to skin herself alive than to fall into this trap.

Because love was, in fact, a trap.

Thanks to reading a book about her family's history, she learned that the curse activated with the first contact with the destined person. A touch that sent thousands of electric shocks coursing through the body, a bond capable of quenching the thirst of her cursed soul.

That’s why she was averse to any contact: no one, ever, would trigger that curse to drag her into madness. She categorically rejected the idea of succumbing to temptation; she was even willing to kill the destined person, fully aware that she would die immediately afterward.

there was another side effect: if your soulmate died, you would follow them incapable of living without them.

Wednesday pressed her lips into a thin line.

That moment had arrived the instant she crossed the gates of Nevermore Academy. A warmth spread through her body and an annoying itch kept her on edge. Wednesday mentally cursed herself for having attacked students at her old school: at least she wouldn’t have anticipated her end. Her parents watched her with curiosity as they approached her new room and Wednesday tried to maintain an unreadable expression, fully aware that chaos reigned inside her.

Where her mother stayed in the past: Ophelia Hall.

As soon as they opened the door the itch intensified and something indefinable vibrated in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the curse or the fact that she had entered a painfully colorful room. A girl immediately sprang up from the bed, a smile stretching from ear to ear as her blonde hair with blue and pink streaks danced toward their direction. Another girl sat cross-legged on the bed to the girl to far too… enthusiastic.

There it was again, that annoying itch.

“Hi, roommate!” the blonde exclaimed excitedly.

Wednesday felt nauseated, a wave of discomfort tightening her stomach in a cold grip. It was a new sensation for her. She felt her throat constrict, the urge to vomit ready to explode but the lack of food ingested that morning left her with only a painful emptiness, like an abyss sucking her from within. With a shiver she realized that the nausea wasn’t caused by hunger but by the curse that poisoned her insides, slithering through her veins like a subtle venom.

Oh no.

The impression of tiny spiders weaving her stomach from the inside sent a chilling shiver through her, insinuating itself between her bones. Every thread of that imaginary web seemed to tighten around her, making every breath harder than the last. The sensation of being trapped, of losing control, terrified her in a way she would never admit to anyone. Wednesday found herself immobile; perhaps "paralyzed" was the best word.

“Are you okay? You look... pale,” the blonde said with concern.

Other eyes turned in her direction.

“Oh… Wednesday always looks half dead,” her father commented with an ironic smile.

Her mother’s hand rested on her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze, a gesture that could have seemed comforting but for Wednesday was a reminder of the distance between them.

But inside, Wednesday felt a turmoil boiling in her chest. A raw, primitive energy surged through her like an electric current, making her muscles tremble. Paradoxically, it was the first time she felt so… alive. That pain, that sense of oppression and that devastating nausea had awakened an intensity she had never experienced before. It was as if the curse was showing her the limits of her humanity, forcing her to feel closer to life, precisely because she was on the brink of her annihilation.

If her mother hadn’t placed her hand on her shoulder, she probably would have fainted.

“I understand,” the blonde mumbled, a look of confusion on her face. “Anyway, I’m Enid, and that over there is my best friend Y/N,” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Y/N timidly waved her hand as a greeting.

“I’m happy to meet you!” Enid exclaimed, filled with bubbly happiness, opening her arms and walking toward her.

Wednesday’s eyes widened and she quickly took a step back to avoid contact. The itch had appeared as soon as she entered this room and the gothic girl didn’t know if it was the blonde girl who was the possible cause. There was also the chance that it was the other girl, Y/N, but honestly she didn’t want to know in any case.

Enid slowed down and looked at her with disappointment.

“Oh… I see you’re not a hugging person,” she mumbled weakly, still wearing a big smile on her lips.

“Do you like the room?” she asked curiously, her eyes so bright it seemed like she had two stars instead of irises.

“No,” Wednesday replied venomously.

“Sorry… Wednesday… is allergic to colors,” her father justified and Enid raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What does it do to you?” she asked weakly.

“My flesh is peeling off my bones,” Wednesday replied in a flat tone, her lips reduced to a thin line. She felt the itch slowly fade but the annoyance remained on her. A faint laugh reached her ears, forcing her to turn toward Enid’s best friend. “Sorry… that was funny,” the latter stammered trying to justify herself as her cheeks flushed.

Wednesday stared at her intensely, a visceral hatred bubbling within her.

“Well… I’ll go now,” Y/N mumbled weakly. The girl got up from the bed and Wednesday found herself analyzing her quickly: tall, slender, long y/c hair and eyes of the same color. A smile resided on her lips and the goth felt as if her own were about to rise in reflex

she held back.

“It was nice to meet you,” she mumbled timidly.

Y/N passed by her and the proximity was enough to awaken the unsettling sensation gripping her insides. But luckily for Wednesday, it lasted only a few seconds.

(...)

Nevermore turned out to be much more fascinating than Wednesday had imagined: gorgons, werewolves, sirens, vampires and all the other creatures that populated the world of outcasts. However, what intrigued her the most was the series of murders wreaking havoc in the quiet town of Jericho. A frenzy of curiosity filled her; she felt inspired.

She longed to discover the identity of the killer, continue her novel about Viper and investigate any mystery that could be connected to her ancestor Goody Addams.

She would think about escape later.

Regarding her curse, Wednesday had narrowed it down: Enid, Y/N, and Yoko. Tayler and Xavier had quickly been eliminated from her list. Tayler for covering her mouth during the excursion in the woods to avoid being discovered by Sheriff Galpin and Xavier for taking her to the infirmary when she fainted. In both cases, she hadn’t felt anything, a total absence of emotions.

But Y/N was different. She was almost 80% sure that you were her soulmate.

Every time they spoke, even if she could detect a note of sarcasm in your responses to her icy remarks, she felt a palpable energy between you two, an electric current that seemed to draw her closer to you. Her eyes couldn’t tear away from yours and an unbearable fire exploded in her chest. She found herself experiencing mental blackouts lost in your gaze and on more than one occasion she had even stammered. She hated the curse, hated herself, and above all, hated you.

But what got her into trouble were her thoughts crowding her mind like a chorus of impatient voices: Take her hand, kiss her, find out if you are her damn ruin. These thoughts didn’t manifest with Enid or Yoko. With Enid, there was a weak itch, a sense of comfort but not attraction, probably because they were roommates. And Yoko? Well, she was simply a friend of Enid and Y/N.

Wednesday blinked and directed her gaze back to her plate.

The goth found herself having lunch at a table with her roommate's group. Despite loving solitude, she found herself amidst Enid and Yoko, with Y/N sitting in front of her, a calm expression on her face.

The buzzing continued.

Wednesday was close to Enid, so close that their shoulders brushed against each other. Anxiety gripped her stomach but she needed to narrow down the list, she wanted to know: she bit her lower lip and decided to eliminate the distance by leaning her weight against Enid's shoulder.

Nothing.

“Oh, sorry,” Enid shifted.

Wednesday furrowed her brow. Why hadn’t anything happened? Maybe the contact needed to last longer? Should she hold her hand or something? The goth extended her hand and placed it on the blonde’s arm.

Nothing.

She quickly fell into a panic, the electricity increasing around her and decided to touch Yoko.

Absolutely nothing.

“Do you want to kill me? Did you touch garlic with those hands?” Yoko asked, panicking as she looked at Wednesday through her sunglasses.

“I don’t think so… You would have already burned,” Y/N commented playfully. Wednesday looked up and locked eyes with Y/N. This only meant one thing... Her suspicions were true.

It was you.

You were her soulmate.

Oh, fuck it.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #miércoles addams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams #jenna x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna x y/n #x y/n #y/n

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jasmines-library · 9 months ago

Note

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin.

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look.

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes.

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you.

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that.

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar.

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece.

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake.

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

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mentally-gone002 · 5 months ago

Text

i’m right here…

summary: spencer is really upset about a decision you made in the field.

warnings: angstyyy!!

a/n: here i am with another spencer x reader💃 also i was actually on the cusp of death(sleep) while proofing this one so… if there’s anything i missed that’s mb lmaooo (yo girls tired af) also!!! this isn’t supposed to be within any specific season or anything it’s kinda just out there!!

———————————————————————

the door of spencer’s apartment was slammed behind you. he sounded angry the from way he did it, rightfully so, but you’ve never seen him this angry. you didn’t get the chance to fully react before he was grabbing your wrist to pull you away to his bathroom. he gestured for you to sit on the vanity counter.

you stayed quiet. spencer’s face was contorted with pinched brows, clenched teeth and narrowed eyes as he seethed silently, reaching to carefully peel a piece of lightly blood soaked bandage from your forehead. he tossed it into the garbage can and started to clean the blood from your head.

you’d gotten injured in the field hours earlier. you’d gone after the unsub the team was after because you thought you could detain her. of course, that plan of yours failed, ending with your forehead falling victim to the back of the gun the woman had. luckily morgan was there to detain her before she took a shot at you on the ground.

spencer had been silent towards you ever since he heard of how you disobeyed direct orders from hotch.

it was strange to not hear him talk for this long. it was going on five hours. five hours too long in your opinion.

as he finished replacing your bandage you spoke up. “i’m sorry.” was all you said. it would probably be useless because all the other attempts to make him talk to you were just filled with more silence and maybe a disappointed look. he sighed heavily though as he looked away.

“i don’t understand why you couldn’t just listen to hotch.” his brown eyes bore into yours when he said that.

you shrugged. “i though i could catch her.”

spencer got visibly more upset than he was before in a second. “you though you could catch her?” he asked. “she pointed a gun at your head.” his voice grew slightly louder.

you swallowed thickly and hunched down at the volume. “i didn’t get killed.” you muttered.

he scoffed, stepping away from where you sat on the vanity in amusement. his jaw was clenched hard. “that isn��t the point here. you disobeyed an order and put yourself in danger.”

your head snapped toward him. “you think i don’t know that? this job, it makes us all put ourselves in danger!” your voice rose slightly.

spencer clenched his fists at his side and breathed. “so that just gives you the right to rush into danger the second you want?” he wondered.

you slid off the vanity to stand against it instead. “if that means that we get the bad guys, then yes!”

his anger spiked, eyes widening and chest puffing out due to a heavy intake of air. “but you can’t just go off on your own whenever you want! especially when our unsub was as erratic as she was!” he explained with his hands waving in the air as a way of adding some emphases.

“i wasn’t on my own, reid! morgan was right there!” you reminded him, stepping close as he stepped back, almost bumping the wall behind him. spencer seemed to be getting more agitated by the minute, especially when you called him by his last name.

“oh, okay! so since morgan was there i guess this is okay?” he asked.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “no. but he didn’t listen to hotch either, so don’t put this all on me!”

“morgan isn’t here right now, so we aren’t talking about what he did,” spencer told you, “we’re talking about what you did!” he snapped, index finger pointed at your chest.

you sighed heavily with a pang of guilt that intensified. it had been there since the case had ended. “why are you making this such a big deal? i already know that i was stupid to do what i did, i apologized to hotch, i apologized to you more than once, and i know that i risked my life. drop it.” you walked out of the bathroom into spencer’s dark apartment.

he followed on your heels, not finished with the conversation yet. “drop it?” he repeated with sarcasm. you didn’t know he knew how to use sarcasm but there it was. “i’m not going to drop this!”

“well you should!” you spun on your heels with your voice louder than you meant it to go.

spencer stopped in his tracks with evident perplexity. “why? are you telling me to not be worried about you?” he asked.

you nodded. “that’s exactly what i’m telling you, spencer! i’m safe and standing in front of you right now!” you stepped closer to him, craning your neck to look up at him. “i really expected you to act differently after this case. i thought you’d come up to me and help me or maybe hug me and say something along the lines of ‘im glad you’re alright’ but i guess not because all i got was the silent treatment.” you kept staring at his eyes.

he looked stunned and not angry for the first time this evening. “of course i’m glad you’re alright!” she snapped. “i’m glad you’re standing here right now, but it’s only because of dumb luck!”

you rolled your eyes. how was the this dense and also a genius at the same time? “no, it’s because i’m trained for this job and back there… that was me using my training. so i’m sorry i was doing exactly what i’m employed to do!” you shouted.

spencer shouted back, “so to you, doing your job means that you get to not follow orders?” he asked with heavy breaths. “do you realize how risky that is?”

“yes, i do.” you nodded, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. “but im safe, and the monsters are in jail. that’s all that matters.”

“what about me?” he asked.

you crossed your arms. “what about you?” you wondered.

“you really don’t know what it’s like to see someone you really care about after they’ve almost died.” spencer stepped closer and his voice got quiet.

you frowned and tilted your head to the side to keep your eyes on his. he looked away at the floor. “i don’t doubt it was scary, but i’m here, spencer.” you smiled softly at him. “i’m right here.”

he let his eyes meet yours again. the inside of his cheek was held between his teeth as he contemplated what to do next. he knew he was being too hard on you but he just didn’t want to loose you. instead of opening his mouth to say something else he stepped forward and wound his arms around you, holding you against him in a tight embrace. his face hid away in the crook of your neck. your arms didn’t go around his back in a returning embrace immediately, still on alert for the fight to continue. but it didn’t. he breathed shakily before whispering, “don’t ever do that again.” his voice was low and slightly muffled by your shoulder.

“okay… okay, i won’t.” you rubbed your hands over the expanse of his back in a comforting motion.

you stood there in each others arms for a few minutes, just relishing in the feeling of being held. it was also a silent apology from both of you, a reassuring apology.

“you promise?” he asked.

you nodded, closing your eyes. “i promise.” you muttered. “just don’t yell at me again.” you told him while pulling away just enough to see him. your hands rested on his waist.

spencer nodded as he took your hands into his own, letting them hang between you both. his eyes were on the floor. “i’m sorry… i was just… still on edge from the case. i can’t stand the thought of loosing you.” he whispered.

you craned your neck in a direction so that you’d find spencer’s eyes. “you won’t loose me.” you assured him, squeezing his hands. “and i won’t do that again okay? it hurt enough as it is.” you gestured to your head a little.

he nodded as relief washed over his worried mind. he squeezed your hands a little before dropping them and wrapping his arms around your frame again. he breathed you in a few times, just to really be sure you were there. safe in his arms. safe in his apartment.

“it’s late… or early.” you pulled away slowly from him. spencer nodded with a quick brush of your hair behind your ear.

he glanced at his watch. “yeah. it’s been a long day and you need all the rest you can get.” he told you.

you nodded. “will sleeping make my gash heal faster?” your hand was in his as you lead him to his bedroom.

spencer nodded. “actually yes, getting good amounts of sleep can assure your hormones will rebuild that broken tissue because cortisol levels lower while your asleep.” he replied, rambling with information that made you smile.

“okay, boy genius,” he pulled a face at the same carried on by the whole BAU team, “let’s get to sleep then.”

he nodded and followed you with getting changed out of your clothes and climbing into his bed with the comforter pulled up to her nose. he grinned at you while he laid in front of you, hand searching to hold yours under the covers.

you pulled spencer’s hand to your lips. “night, doctor reid.” you murmured, tiredly teasing him.

he smiled at that and closed his eyes. “good night.”

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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zevrra · 3 months ago

Text

never forget—

synopsis: where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them caaaause that moment in the game was not enough for me pfft!

tags: 18(+), lil angst, mostly fluff, sebastian(18) x reader, i didn’t know how to end this oops, one-shot, 2k words.

“Crucio!”

The pain that followed that one little word was excruciating.

Yet the spell casted upon you was of your own doing. You, Ominis, and Sebastian had become good friends since your first day at Hogwarts. Always together, always the 3 of you somehow in trouble. Well, mostly you and Sebastian. Somehow Ominis always managed to get out of the trouble the two of you dragged him into. You were Slytherin after all, it was most likely in your blood.

When you first met Sebastian, he had such an eager to learn that his demeanor was contagious. So much so you couldn’t help but also want to gain more knowledge with him over the years. It was all thanks to Ominis from keeping you two from ending up expelled. Your savior in a sense. But ever since the three of you had become good friends, Sebastian never let up about Salazar Slytherin. He was set on finding his Scriptorium, begging Ominis for so long to show him the way. Seeing as he believed finding it would help cure his sister’s, Anne, curse.

When Ominis had finally given into you both and led the way, the three of you worked wonderfully together. Traversing dark and wary caves. Fending off giant spiders, solving puzzles all that good stuff. Until finally you reach a room with a single note, bones buried in dirt, no way out, the word CRUCIO etched into the stone before your feet, and what looked to be a screaming apparition burned onto a mirror.

You sadly read the note aloud for all to hear. Detailing a grim last few words from Ominis’s aunt. Who unfortunately had gone looking for the Scriptorium, alone, and met an untimely fate. You reach out to gently touch Ominis’s shoulder and he stills beneath your touch.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt, Omni.” You mourn. He nods in acceptance. Nothing they did now could’ve changed what had happened to his aunt. He would at least find some peace in knowing what happened to her.

Sebastian is at your side then. Concerned look on his own freckled face. “Ominis…I know it’s hard. But the letter details using Crucio. You’re the best suited for this—“

“No! I won’t do it. To use Crucio you have to mean it. I will not cast that spell ever again…especially on you two.” Ominis steps away from your reach. Closing off from the activity entirely. You didn’t blame him.

You turn to face Sebastian then who looks..almost disappointed with Ominis's rejection. He gestures for you to follow him closer to the wailing mirror. Hauntingly beautiful, even in its twisted state.

“Well, two options. You cast Crucio on me, or I…cast it on you. It’s the only way we’re getting out of here. We can’t die here and now because of—of morals.” Sebastian whispers to you. The thought of dying in that suffocating tomb alone makes your skin crawl.

Ominis had always been vocal about how horrible any of the killing curses were, especially this spell. Seeing as he was forced to cast it when he was younger. The nightmares still haunt the blonde from what you could tell. His sleepless nights. The flinch at loud noises. It was obvious, whatever you decided, that this would forever weigh heavy on your soul. Yet the spell…could come in handy when facing Ranrok. He was your enemy after all.

You hoped it would never come down to using it though.

“Fine. Teach me the spell but you…you cast it on me. I won’t hurt you Seb.” You mumble. And at first, he’s hesitant. His wand slightly swayed before he reluctantly nods. His hands slightly shake as he teaches you the wave of the wand. He had never performed the dark arts before and this could go very wrong or just really wrong. Either way was going to hurt. But you trusted him.

That’s how you ended up in the here and now. Agonizing pain ripped through your flesh like lightning. Flames behind your eyeballs that force them to shut tight. Hoping to ease the pain away. Your teeth gnash against your lip to hold back screams of pain. It does nothing. Dark magic moves under your skin like writhing red and green tentacles. You gasp between almost suffocating screams.

Breathe in, scream, breathe out.

Your back is against the stone, arched, burning hot. Even as Ominis, or maybe it was Sebastian’s, or both of their hands are grabbing at your arms. Cool fingers press into your hot flesh as the boy’s try to lift you from the floor.

They try to comfort you during one of the worst moments of your life. It doesn’t help. They both fumble as they move you into the room that opened up behind the wailing mirror. The pain is nauseating. Every fumble, correction, and movement makes your stomach churn. Threatening to spill out your lunch. Your consciousness is slowly fading at this point. Stars blinking behind your eyelids as you grasp for whatever you can to stay awake.

Through the pulsing pain in your head and ears, you barely hear the two boys arguing. More or less Ominis yelling about how he was right. How this was a stupid idea as he struggles to help carry you. Ominis can’t see where he steps yet he’s trying so hard to save you now.

“You—you’re both idiots!” Ominis snarls. Struggling with words through his rage and panic. “How could you do something like this!”

“I understand, Ominis! Just—just, Merlin, help me! Help me get to the infirmary!” Sebastian spits back as they continue to fumble around, looking for an exit.

The last thing you hear is Sebastian calling for desperate help before the pain becomes too much and finally takes you under. Passing out from the curse spell later than you would’ve liked.

When concussions come back to you, it’s almost unbearable. Your eyes flutter open but fall closed once again. Maybe you could just stay like that for forever. Lying on a cloud, nice and warm, with your eyes closed. Eh, sounds a little too much like death for your liking.

Thankfully, your second attempt at waking up is far more fruitful. Candlelight flickers rapidly at the edge of your feet as your eyes slowly come into focus. You make out the white sheets laying across your body. Feel the firm mattress against your back. Connecting the dots, slowly but surely, that you were in the infirmary.

Your head moves slightly to continue looking around. Hoping a nurse was close by so you could ask for some water or medicine or anything to make the dull ache in your body stop. Instead your eyes find Sebastian.

His unruly brown hair is somehow even messier than usual. He slumps against the side of your bed and from what you can tell, he might be asleep. Seeing as it was sometime during the night. If you had to guess he probably snuck into the infirmary to be at your side.

Suddenly memories of what happened in the Scriptorium come back to you. Sending a harsh chill down your entire body. The cast of Crucio echoes in the back of your mind. You’ll never forget the feeling. Or the look on Seb’s face as he waved the spell and casted it upon you.

‘Crucio can only be cast if you mean it.’ You remember Ominis’s haunting words. Sebastian must’ve meant it. But you try your best to not blame him. He was just trying to get you all out of that stone grave.

“Seb…” You try to speak. Your throat burns as you attempt to rouse the sleeping man at your side. Voice hoarse, borderline gone, from what you can only assume is from the screaming you barely remember doing. “Sebastian.” You barely manage his full name.

His body shifts at the sound of his name but he doesn’t rise. So you make your way to sit up. Although the moment you prepare to sit up, weight shifting ever so slightly, Sebastian shoots up instantly. His pretty green eyes meet your gaze in a wild look. As if he can’t believe you’re awake. Dried drool sticks to the edge of his lips. You can’t help but laugh. Or what you assume is a laugh. To Seb it probably sounds like you’re coughing.

“I—we—are you okay?” Seb stumbles over his words. Knowing Sebastian, he most likely had something planned to say the moment you woke up. Yet now he was almost speechless. For the first time ever.

“I’m o-okay just…w-water.” You manage to mumble. Now he’s quick to react. A glass of water is held out with lightning speed to you and you take it graciously.

After a moment of what felt like an eternity of being parched, you chug the water given to you, before you hand the glass off and sit fully upright. Your fingers lay in your lap, picking at the cotton of the blanket.

Silence falling between the two of you was so uncommon. It almost felt worse than writhing in pain. Not really but the wall built up was hard to ignore. You needed that wall to come down.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask softly. Breaking the silence as your throat is finally feeling better after some water.

“Three days,” Sebastian replies. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t blame him, not really. The guilt must weigh heavy on his shoulders.

Three days. The fact that it had been days since you had passed out in the scriptorium made your gut twist. You can’t even imagine what rumors must have spread among the school. Or the amount of questions the headmaster will be asking you. Oh you were definitely in for some trouble.

“I’m so sorry.”

Apologies were not something Sebastian was known for. The fact that he was apologizing at all was almost shocking. You didn’t have to guess that he didn’t really mean it when he casted Crucio. It was all just a matter of choices, for you all to survive.

“It’s okay,” Your voice is soft as you speak. “I don’t want you to blame yourself. I agreed to it Sebastian,” You remind him. It only makes Seb angrier with himself.

“Of course I blame myself! I could’ve killed you!” Sebastian says in a strained voice. He wants to scream and yell. He wants you to scream and yell at him. For letting him do something so stupid. For not listening to Ominis in the first place. For being too eager.

“It was a matter of life or death Seb you know that—“ You began to say but he cuts you off as he quickly stands from his chair.

“But what if there was another way!? What if I didn’t have to…didn’t want to—I could’ve changed something!” He angrily hisses as he turns his head away from you.

Silences befalls between the two of you again. Stretched longer than previously as you can’t think of something to say. He had three days to beat himself up for dragging all three of you to that scriptorium. You couldn’t imagine how many scenarios he himself had imagined over and over again while in your slumber.

“What if I had lost you?”

The soft words are barely loud enough to hear. Just a whisper under his breath you almost can’t manage to make out. But you do. The somber confession comes at you like a heavy rainstorm. Unexpected, welcoming, lovely, and a little noisy from his previous minor outburst. Building from a small drop to a straight downpour and you’re caught in the middle of it with no umbrella.

Even in the candlelight you see the tips of ears, beat red as he refuses to look at you. Shoulders tense as he tries to will himself to calm down. It was late, you weren’t supposed to be awake, and he wasn’t supposed to be there. It was not the time for this conversation.

Yet it makes you smile anyway. Butterflies jump around under your skin, in your heart, stomach following suit in doing somersaults. You reach with a gentle hand and grab hold of his shirt sleeve, giving it a tug. For a moment he stands completely still. Debating whether or not it was the right moment to hash all of this out. It wasn’t. Yet a second tug on his sleeve has him turning to finally look at you.

This time when you meet his green eyes, his wild look is gone. He looks at you like you’re the cure to whatever alignment he’s currently experiencing. It’s a saddened, sleepless, relieved look. Feeling every emotion he’s ever felt in his life all in the span of a few short seconds.

You smile fondly at Sebastian, praying he could see it in the soft light of the infirmary. “But you didn’t,” You remind him. Almost gesturing to you, him, and your surroundings. “I’m still here, Seb.”

Sebastian simply nods. Not having the courage to speak for it may bring him to tears. Now that would truly be the end of the world if that happened.

You reach for his hand. Reassuring and gentle as your fingers intertwine with his. He’s stiff as a board at your touch. He has always yearned for it but never had the faith to act upon his feelings.

“Plus, it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” You say hoping to ease the young man’s feelings. At least for tonight.

A squeeze to your hand is the only response you receive as he returns to his seat. He rests your connected hands on the bed before his head follows suit. Instead of returning to the side of your bed he makes himself comfy on your thigh. You smile at the puzzling picture before you.

The great Sebastian Sallow, a man who rarely asks for any help, unless it involves trekking in some dark cave somewhere, was vulnerably sprawled out on top of you.

You stifle a giggle, fearing if he heard you laugh he would assume the worst and pull away. Instead your free hand pushes through his hair. Pushing away dark curly hair from his freckled face.

“You should return to the dorms before the nurse finds you.” You hum as your eyes scan his own closed eyes. Gazing at the lengths of his eyelashes. Every freckle you could see, thinking how fun it could be to count them one day.

“‘Ts fine,” Sebastian shrugs it off. You hear the softness of his breathing, slowly becoming shallow as he falls asleep. Fast asleep in your thigh with his hand tightly wound to yours. You wish you could have a painting done of this moment. Hoping by every ounce of magic in your veins that you never forget this feeling or the sight. And by Merlin does the sight make your heart ache and pound in equal parts.

You just hoped to never go through something like this ever again. Hopefully Sebastian would see how powerful and dangerous the dark arts could be and look for another solution to healing Anne’s curse. Maybe the ancient magic you wield could help next time instead of turning to the unforgiving curses.

#hogwarts legacy #x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #fluff #fluffy zevrra #angst with a happy ending #one shot #i did not proofread this #i am so sorry #enjoy!!!

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girlgenius1111 · 6 months ago

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overworked

putellas!reader r is struggling with being a full time student & playing for Barça, and being alexia putellas' sister. she turns to some unhealthy methods to cope, and her sister is not pleased when she finds out. warnings: panic attacks, hospitalization, drug use [very mild]

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"Alexia," Olga murmured, shaking her girlfriend gently. The blonde only mumbled incoherently, rolling away from the disruptive sound of her girlfriend's voice, and tucking her head under her pillow.

"Alexia Putellas Segura," Olga repeated, yanking the pillow away.

"Hey! What do you want?" Alexia asked grumpily, glaring up at her girlfriend.

"I think your sister is still awake. I went to get water and her light was on."

Alexia sighed, running a hand over her face. "What time?"

"It's 3am."

"Hermanita loca," Alexia groaned, rolling off the side of the bed and directly onto the floor, before popping up and heading for the door.

"You are so dramatic." Olga sighed, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend's antics.

You'd lived with your sister for a while now; after signing with Barça, Alexia had convinced your mami that the best thing would be for you to live with her. Alexia could keep an eye on you, and Eli wouldn’t have to deal with the crazy schedule you had to follow.

Being a 20 year old playing for the best football club in the world, while simultaneously being a full time student was not easy. In fact, you were pretty sure it was slowly killing you.

You were, and always had been, a perfectionist. You weren't a quitter. In your family, you saw through your commitments. So, even though you were dead tired, stressed beyond belief, and barely keeping up with your coursework, you wouldn't give up. You wouldn't even drop a class. You were running yourself into the ground, and everyone around you could tell. Well, mostly everyone.

You'd heard Olga get up, and you knew her well enough to know that she had probably woken your sister to tell her that your light was on. Before she could come marching into your room and take your computer, you flicked the light off, shut your laptop, and burrowed under the covers.

Sure enough, your door creaked open a minute later, and your sister poked her head in, finding you 'asleep'. She knew you, though, too, and she didn't buy it for a second.

"Nice try." She said, voice just above a whisper. She moved towards your bed, flicking the light back on, and grabbing your laptop.

"Alexiaaaa," you complained, pretending she'd woken you. You squinted your eyes at her, removing the covers from your face, finding her staring at you with one eyebrow raised. You knew you were fucked, but you needed to get this essay done, tonight. The thought of adding it to tomorrow's to-do list made you want to cry.

"That was quite a performance." She opened the computer, where your essay was still pulled up, and looked at the document history.

"'Last edit made: 3 minutes ago'. Do you think I don't know all your tricks, nena?" Alexia teased, shutting the laptop again, and moving to get off the bed to leave the room with it. She caught your facial expression, though, and realized you were barely holding back tears.

"Hey," she said softly. "What is it? What's wrong?" Alexia took a seat back on the edge of the bed, brushing a piece of hair out of your face as you blinked hard, willing the tears away.

"Please give it back." You managed, gesturing towards your computer.

Alexia grew stern once more. "Nena. No. It's late, and you need sleep. This isn't healthy."

"I need to finish this essay, Alexia, please," you pleaded. You and your sister were similar, especially in that you were both very stubborn. The chance of either of you letting up was... low. Alexia held your computer, though, and therefore, held all the power.

"No. You can finish it tomorrow."

"I can't! We have training, and I have an essay to do for another class, and an exam to study for, and a presentation to start, and-"

"You are working yourself too hard, nena. None of those things are more important than sleep. You can turn in some things late, it won't kill you."

Unlike you, Alexia was not a perfectionist; at least not when it came to school. She tolerated it for as long as she had to, before putting all of her energy into football. It had paid off, but Alexia never understood your need to be a good student, to get the highest grade possible in everything.

This very distinct difference between the two of you often caused confusion on Alexia’s part, and frustration on yours. Alexia didn’t understand why you couldn’t just relax about school, and you didn’t understand how Alexia expected you to be okay with getting anything less than a perfect score.

“Alexia,” you began.

“No. Sleep.” Alexia insisted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before leaving your room, your computer held hostage in her arms. You waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and opened up your essay. It wasn’t ideal, but it needed to be done. Sleep was the last thing on your mind.

You finished the essay an hour later, which gave you only 5 hours of sleep. Still, you’d trained with less sleep, and you probably would again.

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Being the sister of the best in the world wasn’t easy. Alba had been telling you that for years. Being the sister of the best in the world, and playing the same sport that she was the best at, though? That was a different kind of nightmare, one which you lived everyday.

Though the athleticism genes seemed to skip right over your middle sister, it was clear to everyone that from a young age that you were talented on the football pitch. The 10 year age gap between you and your sister meant that Alexia had always blurred the line between parent figure and sister. Once you got serious about football, Alexia made it her mission to make sure you were the best that you could be.

From extra training to talking about tactics while you were supposed to be studying for school, your sister had always made it clear to you that if you wanted football, school would have to come second. Your mami disagreed heavily, but no one on earth had the will to stop Alexia doing something she’d decided was important. And as her baby sister, you showing interest in following in her footsteps was the most important thing. Ever. She’d moved you in with her when you were 18, still playing on the Barça B team. It was because of your sister that you excelled enough there to move up to the first team by the time you were 19.

Your sister had been stunned when you told her you intended to attend university and get your degree while you continued your football career. For her, football was it. Football was everything. It was all she had ever wanted to do, and all she would ever want to do. For you, though, it was much more complicated. You loved football. And maybe you would have loved it as much as Alexia did, if it hadn’t been for your sister herself.

It was a combination of things that had begun to leech away your love for the game. It was the pressure Alexia put on you, for sure. The demand for perfection at all times, even if she told you that it was okay to make mistakes. It was the expectations inside of the team to be a mini Alexia, to take charge and be a leader even though you were much shyer and quieter than she was. Above all else, though, it was the feeling that nothing you would ever accomplish, no matter how hard you tried, how hard you pushed, would ever be enough. Alexia, the public, the team, the coaching staff, they all expected you to be a younger version of your sister. They expected you to do what she did, sooner than she’d done it, and better than she’d done it.

The pressure mounted. It built over several years, accumulating until you were 20 years old, and you weren’t even sure why you were still playing. You didn’t think you loved football anymore. You kept going because of Alexia, because you’d made commitments. But the truth was that you worked so hard in school because that was your safety net. It was your chance to do something that was your own, do something that Alexia hadn’t done first. It was a place where you were spared constant comparisons to your sister, a place where you felt like yourself, your own person.

You loved Ale; that wasn’t the issue. It was just that very accomplishment you had was tinged with it just not being as good as something your sister had done. And it felt like everything football related you would ever do would be overshadowed.

It felt like if you ever wanted to be something other than Alexia Putellas’ baby sister, you’d have to do it someplace else.

So it was a full workload of classes for you, on top of training with the team. On top of playing for the national team. Alexia didn’t understand why school was so important, no one did. But you were committed to having a back up plan. Football wasn’t your passion at the moment. So much of the joy you had while playing had drained away.

You couldn’t slow down with football, that was out of the question. And you couldn’t slow down with school, either, not if you wanted to graduate on time. Your only option was to push through.

It was inevitable, really, that you’d stumble, that it would all become too much. And inevitable that you’d break. You just couldn’t fathom what would come after that, so you plowed forward. Moved steadily ahead, towards the edge of a cliff. You didn’t know what awaited you at the bottom once you fell from the edge, but you were well past caring.

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Your sister always kept a close eye on you during training. She made sure you were hydrated enough, that you didn’t get overheated, that you weren’t doing anything to risk injury. Any hint of discomfort on your face had your sister yanking you off the pitch and dragging you inside to get evaluated.

No one could ever accuse Alexia of not caring.

Today, she noted that you looked preoccupied. And that you’d brought your phone into the gym with you, which in and of itself wasn’t odd. It was the way you were checking it obsessively in between reps that had Alexia slightly concerned. You weren’t talking to your friends the way you normally did, and just as Alexia had decided to put her foot down and pull you aside, you picked up your phone again.

This time, your face dropped, all the color draining out of your cheeks. Before Alexia could take even a step in your direction, you were slipping out of the gym, rushing into the locker room as you stared at something on your phone.

“What are you doing?” Alexia said, following you into the locker room.

“I- I got a grade back.” You told her.

“A grade?”

“On the exam from last week,” you whispered.

“Is it bad?” Alexia wondered, taking a few steps closer to you. Her mind flashed back to when she used to have to show Eli a bad grade she’d gotten on an exam during school. Normally, she’d slip her the paper and take off to hide in your room, because Eli didn’t like to yell in front of the baby. Alexia wondered if you were so upset because you were worried about her reaction.

“No Ale, I did well, that’s why I'm freaking out,” you snapped sarcastically, falling back down onto the bench as your chest heaved, hiding your face in your hands. “I can’t breathe.”

“Hermana?” Alexia asked, brow furrowing with concern as she looked at you.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated, your voice muffled by your hands.

“What is happening?” Alexia asked, her face clouded with concern as she sat down next to you. “Hermanita, tell me what is wrong.”

You thrust your phone into her hands. It took Alexia a moment to figure out what she was looking at, but then she saw the grade reflected back at her. It wasn’t bad by any means, but it wasn’t your usual perfect score.

“Nena, this isn’t bad,” she tried, but you pulled your hands away from your face to glare at her, barely able to form words.

“It’s- not good enough, Ale, I need to do bet-better than that, it’s not good enough,” you sobbed. Alexia couldn’t remember ever caring this much about a grade, but she knew how different you were from her, and she did her best to comfort you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay nena,” she soothed, noticing Irene and Mapi walking in through the locker room door, looking concerned, but she couldn’t tear her focus away from you. You’d gone completely silent on her, the only sound you were making being a choked gasp as you tried to inhale enough air. “Nena?”

“Ale, help,” you cried, both of your trembling hands clawing at your chest. Your face was rapidly losing color and you looked completely dazed and completely petrified. Irene and Mapi moved closer, looking between the two of you.

“Hermana?” Alexia panicked. You shook your head, a few tears escaping. You swayed in your seat, tilting forward until you were half leaning on your sister, and gripped onto her shirt with your hands, desperate for some relief from the tidal wave of terror and panic rushing through you. “Nena, talk to me.” Alexia said, rubbing your back as she looked between her teammates.

“Can’t breathe,” you gasped, “chest hurts.”

Alexia froze, but Irene snapped into action.

“Mapi, call an ambulance.” She instructed. “Ale, let’s get her on the ground before she passes out.”

The world was swirling around you, nothing comprehensible. Before you knew it, you were laid on the floor of the locker room, your head resting in your sister’s lap as her hands anxiously fiddled with your hair. You could see her mouth moving, and you tried to force your ears to hear anything other than an echoing ring.

“You’re okay, nena. You’re okay, I’ve got you. You’re going to be just fine.”

You blinked, but when you opened your eyes next, you were moving through the halls of the Barça facility. You felt a bit like you were floating, and though there was a mask on your face that was forcing oxygen into you, it still didn’t feel like there was enough air on earth to fill your lungs.

You blinked again, and Alexia’s face was hovering over yours, along with the face of a stranger. You could hear a bit better now, and even as your eyes tried to shut, you did your best to listen before you drifted back off.

“-does she keep passing out?” That sounded like Alexia. Worried Alexia.

“A lack of oxygen, she’s breathing too rapidly. Every time she comes to, her heart rate picks up again.”

“Stay awake, please,” Alexia begged, the paramedic next to her forgotten as she glanced down and noticed your eyes were open.

And you wanted to, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe. You were pretty sure you were dying, and the only thought you had was that at least the anxiety would finally stop.

-------

You were completely calm when you woke up. Sleepy beyond belief, and your body felt heavy, but you were calm. It was hard to peel your eyes open, and harder to try to move your hand to rub at your eyes.

You remembered what had happened, but you didn’t feel panicked like you normally did. The constant pulse of anxiety wasn’t running through you as it normally did, and though you couldn’t figure out why, you were relieved beyond belief.

“Hey,” Alexia whispered. She was sat at your bedside, cheeks alarmingly tearstained.

Your guard was up instantly, and your sister could tell. She desperately wanted to know what was happening to you, what had caused this, but she knew from the look on your face that you wouldn’t talk to her.

And that hurt more than she wanted to admit.

“I am going to go call Mami and tell her you are awake.” Alexia said, avoiding eye contact as she got up and left the room. You hadn’t realized Olga was standing against the wall until she moved, taking Alexia’s vacant seat. She gave you a soft smile.

“Hi.” You whispered.

“Hi.” She replied, taking your hand in hers.

“Was it a panic attack?”

“It was.” Olga nodded. “Has that happened before?”

“Never that bad.”

“You need to talk to someone. And it doesn’t have to be me or Ale, but something is going on. I don’t know what, but you need help.”

“I’m fine, Olga.” You said, biting your lip and looking away from the brunette. She sat silently for a minute.

“Alexia is not going to let this go. You know that. You terrified her today, and you know as well as I do that she would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you are okay. It doesn’t matter how much you pretend, nena. She sees right through you.” Olga said gently, falling quiet as your sister reentered the room.

You knew she was right. But like your sister, you were stubborn, too. And you wouldn’t make this easy.

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Three days and two painful therapy sessions later, you were dragged into a meeting to discuss your wellbeing. Your favorite topic.

The meeting really couldn’t have gone worse. The team psychologist, Ana, couldn’t say much because of confidentiality reasons, but she’d made it clear that if you kept going like this, panic attacks like you'd had the other day would keep happening. You were under a high amount of stress between school and football, and it was of her opinion that something needed to change.

Ana suggested you be benched for a few weeks, while you figured things out. She told Jona, and Alexia and Irene who were sitting in the meeting, that she didn’t think you were being honest with her, and that if you were going to get better, you needed to be.

You’d barely spoken during the meeting. Alexia did all the talking for you, and she managed to convince Ana not to bench you, not yet. You were given 2 weeks to get a better football-school balance, and to prove that you were mentally doing better. If your sister, Ana, and Jona felt that you weren’t improving after 2 weeks, you’d be benched.

You knew Alexia was upset when she ignored you the rest of the day. The entire training session, the entire drive home. Olga looked confused at the icy tension between the two of you as Alexia stormed into the house, turning to face you with a frustrated look on her face.

“Here is what we are going to do. I want you to drop a class, but you are not going to agree to that. So, you are going to put your computer in my room every night at 11pm. You will either finish your homework by then or it won’t get done. Either way, you will go to bed at 11. You will see the psychologist twice a week. You will come to me if you have any more panic attacks. We are fixing this before it goes any further, okay?”

She paused, raising her eyebrows at you.

“Okay.” You agreed. There was no arguing with your sister, and you knew it. You’d have to break the rules, rather than try to change them. Alexia was instantly suspicious how easily you’d agreed to her request.

“There is no option of you being benched, pequeña. Football comes first, before school, before everything. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Alexia turned without another word, heading upstairs to take a shower. You avoided eye contact with Olga, as you slipped upstairs, too. You had a call to make.

-------

It was a bad idea. You knew it as soon as you bought the pills, but that didn’t stop you.

It was just a few. Just to get you through this upcoming round of exams and through football. You had to wait for Alexia and Olga to both fall asleep to get your computer out of their room. Once you finished your homework, it was normally around 3 or 4 and you were exhausted. You had to put your computer back, and then you could go to sleep. It wasn’t a sustainable routine, but it was your only choice. And the only way you knew how to accomplish it was to take the adderall you’d bought from a boy at school.

You couldn’t quit school. When football failed, or you quit, whichever came first, you needed to have a plan b. School was your plan b.

And you weren’t sure you wanted to quit football. You hadn’t decided yet. It was suffocating, playing in Alexia’s shadow, and you just weren’t sure how much more you could take. Quitting, though. You weren’t quite there yet.

You just had to keep going. Keep trying to balance both things, and not let anyone know how miserable you were. You didn’t really consider, very naively, that the pills would make everything worse.

-------

You took one for the first time the next evening after training.

The guilt that hit after you swallowed the pill was unbearable. You couldn't work, couldn’t get anything done. You curled up into a ball on your bed and let your thoughts run wild. All you could think was that you were risking everything; school, football, everything.

It was school or it was football, but you couldn’t have both. You were pretty sure of that now. Something had to change. You had to get rid of the pills, and you had to make a decision.

School or football.

Disappointing your sister, or never living up to her expectations.

And, ironically, the only person you could really turn to for help was Alexia

You couldn’t keep everything a secret anymore. And even though you were terrified of being honest with her, you knew you had no other choice.

-------

Alexia and Olga were lounging on the couch, Olga draped across your sister, when you walked in. Olga saw you first, sitting up slightly at the sight of the distressed look on your face. She nudged Alexia, who paused the TV and turned expectantly towards you, a frown tugging at her lips as she looked up at you.

“Pequeña-?” Alexia cut herself off when you took the plastic bag out of your pocket, the little blue pills clearly visible inside. You dropped it onto the table in front of her.

“I bought them from someone at school. It’s adderall. I didn’t take any. Get rid of them, please.” You said numbly, refusing to make eye contact with your sister, before turning and walking back out of the room.

Alexia and Olga sat in stunned silence for a minute, before the blonde slowly reached for the bag, picking it up gingerly and looking at the pills. Her expression quickly grew angry, and she moved to stand up from the couch and follow you up the stairs. Olga grabbed her arm, though, pulling her back down onto the couch.

“Ale, hold on.”

“She bought drugs, Olga. This could have ruined her career, gotten her kicked out of school, gotten her arrested. You cannot tell me not to yell at her,” Alexia complained, though she turned to Olga with an expectant expression on her face.

“She brought drugs, Alexia.” Olga repeated slowly. “Your perfect marks, perfect training schedule, perfectly behaved sister bought drugs to try to keep up with her school work. She is so stressed about getting everything done that she bought drugs. She didn’t take them, she gave them to you before she took them. This isn’t normal, Alexia, this is not a normal stress level for a 20 year old to have. Yelling at her is not going to make it better. Trust me, Ale, talk to her like she’s an adult.”

Alexia considered that, for a minute. It was worth a shot, she supposed. And she could always start yelling if she needed to.

-------

The softness of the knock on your door was almost unnerving. You’d expected Alexia to follow you up the stairs, shouting her head off. It had been a few minutes, though, and you’d only just heard her quiet footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Come in,” you called shakily.

Alexia walked in slowly, her every step measured. You could tell that she was trying to keep herself calm, which is more than you expected. More than you deserved.

Your sister didn’t speak as she came in, didn’t seem to know what to say. She just slid onto the floor next to you, seemingly stunned into silence.

“I fucked up.” You said after a minute. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your sister nod slowly.

Very suddenly, she put a hand on your shoulder, forcefully turning you in her direction. Her eyes looked severe when you looked up at her, and all you wanted to do was cry and beg for her to forgive you.

“Hermanita. Did you take any of those pills?” Alexia asked, enunciating each word slowly. She was looking at you right in the eye, and you knew that if you lied, she’d be able to tell. You’d lied before, and you thought you’d be able to keep it going, but you couldn’t. All of a sudden, you felt like another lie might suffocate you.

“One.” You whispered, shutting your eyes tightly.

Alexia exhaled slowly. “When? Today?”

“Sí.” You told her, voice dripping with shame. You couldn't look at her. If she’d been disappointed in you before, you were sure the look on her face now would be something you couldn’t tolerate.

“You feel okay? No hives, no allergic reactions?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Alexia didn’t really feel like taking your word for it, evidently, and you felt her hand grip your chin and turn your face up towards her. She didn’t look as disappointed as you’d feared. She looked worried, and a bit lost as she inspected your face.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m… I am upset with you. This is just so unlike you, nena, and I am really worried. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I’m never going to do it again, Ale, I gave you all the pills, I swear.”

Alexia shook her head. “The pills are a problem, but something is going on with you to make you feel like you needed to do this, and I want to understand.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I was just stressed, it was a mistake and I won’t make it again.” You dismissed.

“It is not nothing!” Alexia shouted, seeing you wince and look away from her. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that yelling wasn’t the way to get you to talk to her. “It is not nothing. I am your sister, nena, you can tell me whatever is going on. I can help you. I can fix whatever isn’t okay, you just have to tell me.”

“Alexia, there is nothing to fix. Now please, I gave you the pills and I know I fucked up. There isn’t anything to talk about, just leave it alone.” You hated how much she was pushing. You’d prefer if she would just yell. Yelling, you could take. But honesty? And what would come with it? There was no chance on earth that Alexia would understand. She was Alexia, and you were just you. Her younger sister, who would never live up to her legacy, no matter how hard you tried.

“Leave it alone?!” Alexia yelled again, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically. She rose to her feet, beginning to pace, and you stood up too, crossing your arms defiantly across your chest. “You bought drugs at school, you took a pill that was not prescribed to you, you have been going crazy with anxiety, and I want to know why!”

“I told you, I was just stressed.” You said through clenched teeth, willing yourself not to rise to her level of anger, even though you wanted to. Why was she pushing so hard? Why did she care so much?

“This has to be more than just stress, pequeña! Doing things like this is not okay, you are not okay.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted.

“Stop lying to me!” Alexia yelled, ignoring the appearance of Olga in your doorway, even as she felt her girlfriend giving her a look that told her to calm down.

“Ale-” Olga began, but you cut her off.

“ I am doing the best that I can, I am doing everything I can to be good enough for you and for the team and for everyone, but none of it is ever enough!” You shouted, slamming your mouths shut when you felt like you’d said too much.

“This is about school, not football. No one is making you do school! This stress is your own doing, this pressure is coming from you, not anyone else. Drop a class, drop out for all I care. What you are doing to yourself is completely unnecessary.” Alexia said, completely and entirely confused as to just why school was so important to you. Important enough to risk everything.

“It is not unnecessary, Alexia. I need a backup plan, and school is my backup plan.”

“You have football, why do you need a backup plan?” Alexia scoffed, rolling her eyes at you in a way that made your body flame with rage.

“Maybe I don’t want football, Alexia. Maybe that’s not what I want anymore.”

Alexia stared at you, jaw dropped in shock. “What?” She whispered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Olga step closer, but you willed yourself not to look at her. Olga was always more sympathetic than Ale, and you were pretty sure the look on her face would break you right now.

“I can’t do it anymore, Ale, I can’t,”

“You are 20! You are a baby! How could you want to quit, you have barely even gotten started!”

“You don’t understand what it’s like for me, Alexia.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. How could you say that? Of course she understood. “I do, nena, I understand better than anyone, but you cannot just give up because things are more difficult than you anticipated.”

“No. You don’t understand. Things aren’t more difficult than I anticipated, they are impossible. I am losing my mind, Ale, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t.”

“So you want to quit? All of it, everything you’ve worked for. Throw away everything I’ve done for you?”

“I don’t know, Ale. I just can’t do it like this anymore.”

Your sister didn’t understand. The anger on her face told you that, and you knew when she opened her mouth next, her words would hurt more than you thought possible.

“If you are quitting because it is hard, you are not the person I thought you were. Putellas’ don’t quit. I expected so much more from you.”

And even though you’d anticipated it, the words Alexia spit at you still felt like a bullet through the heart. Mostly because you were pretty sure she was right. You were a failure and a disappointment beyond comparison.

Your sister took a step back, and though her face remained hard, she was horrified at herself.

“Alexia, that is enough,” Olga snapped, walking to stand in between the two of you. She knew she’d stepped in too late but the roles of Alexia’s girlfriend and of someone who cared about you were difficult to balance.

“I’m going to Alba’s. I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry Alexia.” You rushed out of the room, leaving your sister frozen, in horror at her own words, behind you.

-------

When Alexia got to Alba’s, she could hear you from the hall. Your sister paused for a minute. She’d expected you to be angry, expected you to be telling Alba exactly what she’d said. She’d expected anger, and that wasn’t what she found.

Instead, she opened the door to Alba’s apartment quietly and stepped inside. You were curled up on the couch, your head in Alba’s lap as she soothingly ran her fingers through your hair.

“I-I’ve ruined everything,” you sobbed.

“No, hermanita.You made a mistake. Nothing is ruined.”

“She hates me now,” you continued, as if you hadn’t heard Alba speak at all.

“You need to breathe, cariño, you need to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you cried, before words became impossible and all you could do was cry.

Alba looked up, then, her face thunderous as she caught sight of her older sister. She shook her head, but Alexia’s eyes were only on you.

“Hermanita,” she whispered, cautiously walking closer to the sofa. You sat upright at the sound of your oldest sister’s voice, a downright terrified expression on your face. “I don’t hate you, nena. I could never hate you.”

Your face crumpled at her words, the last stable part of you collapsing.“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore, Ale, I can’t,”

“Alright, alright.” Alexia soothed, sitting down on the couch next to you.

“We’re gonna fix it, hermanita. Whatever is wrong, whatever you are struggling with, we are going to fix it.” Alba promised you, exchanging a look with her older sister. Alba was pretty furious with Alexia at the moment, but they knew they’d need each other to get you through this.The destroyed state you were in now, the things you’d been doing were all signs that you weren’t okay, and that you needed their help. They were determined to help you.

You sat in between your sisters, crying harder than you ever had before. You weren’t sure how everything had gotten so messed up. And you weren’t sure you knew how it could be fixed.

-------

Alexia and Alba had both decided that you should go back home, and get some rest.

Olga had been anxiously waiting for you both to return, having sent your sister after you almost as soon as you’d left the house. Neither you or Alexia had said much upon arriving back home. You’d been practically catatonic when you’d walked through the front door; cheeks tearstained, body slumped against your sister’s as she helped you into the house. You’d gone right up to bed, and Alexia had simply pulled Olga into a hug. All Ale had told her girlfriend was that she was going to sit you down tomorrow and get you to talk. She was going to figure out what was wrong. What had brought you to this point, why you’d been hiding things from her. She was going to get you to talk if she had to get down on her knees and beg.

Alexia had already texted Jona and told him neither of you would be in tomorrow, aside from a meeting with Ana that your sister had scheduled for the afternoon. If Alexia couldn’t get you talking, she hoped the therapist would. If that didn’t work, she’d call Eli. The only reason she hadn’t called her mami yet was because she knew how hard Eli would come down on you for the drugs, and on Alexia for not taking better care of you. And Alexia knew that each of you respectively carried enough shame for both of those things.

Your sister lay awake in her bed that night, trying to piece together what exactly was happening with you. It was like there was a big piece missing, and she couldn’t think her way through the problem no matter how hard she tried. She tossed and turned in her bed for at least an hour, fighting the urge to go check on you.

“Ale.” Olga whispered, having been woken up by her girlfriend's restlessness. She rolled onto her side and wrapped her arm around her girlfriend’s body.

Alexia sniffled. “Did I wake you?”

“No. I was thirsty.” Olga lied, sitting up to grab her water off her nightstand. “Worrying all night is not going to help your sister, baby.”

“Well, I can try.” Alexia said back, turning on her side to bury her face in Olga’s shirt. “I messed up. So badly. She wants to quit football, she brought drugs at school. She’s been miserable for so long and I didn’t know. I didn’t do anything about it.”

Olga ran her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair, thinking hard about what to say. “Amor, you can’t go back and change things. You can just try to be better for her.”

“What if I can’t be better? What if I’m just a bad sister? A bad person?”

“You aren’t either of those things, mi amor. A mistake doesn’t make you bad.”

“This is more than just one mistake. This is months of mistakes.”

Olga shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. She is your sister, and she adores you. Both of you will get past this. You love each other too much not to.”

Alexia sat with that for a moment. It was true. Even if she didn’t always act like it, even if she wasn’t the best at showing it. She loved you and Alba more than anything on earth. And she decided, then and there, that she wouldn’t ever stop trying to prove that to you.

------

Crying must have tired you out, because when you woke the next day, before even opening your eyes, you could tell it was late. Well past when Alexia would normally wake you up for training. Momentarily, you wondered if she’d gone without you. If she was upset. But then you recognized the soft touch of Alexia’s hand on your back, gently moving back and forth; her preferred way of waking you up. Alexia cherished her sleep, and because she assumed everyone else did too, she was careful to wake you up in the least jarring way possible.

You rolled over, clonking your head into her knee. Grumpily, you opened your eyes. Alexia was not in her training clothes. She was still in her pajamas, in fact, looking down at you nervously. You weren’t used to her being nervous to talk to you.

“Hola.” She greeted. “I woke you up because you never sleep this late, but if you are still tired, you can go back to sleep. We have an appointment with Ana at 2, and I was hoping we could talk before that, but we don’t have to. We can just-”

You cut off her rambling with a shake of your head, dragging your body into a sitting position. Your head was pounding, probably a combination of all the cry and dehydration.

“No, I’m okay. I’m up. We can talk. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Okay!” Alexia said much too quickly. She ruffled your hair awkwardly before turning and heading downstairs, looking back at you slumped in your bed at least 3 times.

When you appeared downstairs 5 minutes later, having made yourself look somewhat presentable, Alexia was sitting on the couch, anxiously bouncing her knee as she waited for you. She had her phone in her hand, and she was rapidly texting someone. Alba or Olga, you guessed. You carefully sat down on the couch a safe distance away from her, now feeling a bit nervous yourself.

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say. If being honest would make things better or worse. If things could really even get any worse.

“You wanted to talk.” You said after a minute, finally venturing a quick glance at your sister, who was looking expectantly at you.

“I want you to talk. And I want to listen.” Alexia said gently.

You thought for a moment, before shrugging. “What do you want me to talk about?”

The blonde took a deep breath. “Do you want to quit football?” She asked quietly, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice, no matter how hard she tried. She loved playing with you. It was her favorite thing.

You read her disappointment wrong, though, thinking she was disappointed in you, and you became slightly defensive, and slightly more tense. “Sometimes.”

Alexia fought the urge to respond to your hostility with her own. Instead, she kept her face soft and open. “Why do you want to quit? And why do you not want to quit?”

You shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. Avoiding Ale’s gaze, you replied as honestly as you could. “I think I still love it, deep down. It just feels like it’s suffocating me right now. Draining all of my energy and all of my happiness. It’s really hard, Ale. I don’t know how to fix that.”

Nodding slowly, the blonde tried not to react to your words outwardly. “Can you tell me what is so hard? I have played for many years, nena, and I do not think I have ever struggled as much as you are struggling now. I don’t understand, but I want to.”

She was being sincere, you could tell. She genuinely did not understand what the issue was. It had never felt this difficult for her, not in this all consuming way. You wanted your sister to understand, but you didn’t want to hurt her. Explaining ran the risk of upsetting her, yet you knew you had no choice.

“You have played for many years, yes. But you have never played as Alexia Putellas’ younger sister. You have never played in the shadow of the greatest in the world, of your sister.”

Alexia inhaled sharply. “I make it hard? Being my sister makes it hard?” She asked, voice almost a whisper as she tried to fight back tears. This was her fault.

You nodded miserably. “I can’t go a day without being compared to you. Your talent, your leadership skills, everything. I feel like nothing I do is ever good enough… for you or for anyone else. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I will never be you, Ale. And that is what everyone wants me to be.”

Your sister shook her head frantically, scooching closer. “That’s not what I want, nena. You are one of my favorite people in the world. I don’t want you to be me, I want you to be you.”

“But I’m not good enough, Ale. Not for anyone. Being me isn’t good enough.” You cried, pulling your hand away from Alexia’s. You couldn’t even begin to consider that she was telling the truth.

“Yes it is, nena, and I am so sorry if I have made you feel like-”

“If? Alexia you have spent the past 2 years of my life pressuring me to be better, telling me to try harder and to push more. And so has everyone else.”

Your sister shook her head again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her, even as you tried to pull away. “I am so sorry, nena. So sorry. I thought you wanted it, as much as I wanted it for you.”

“I did want it.” You mumbled. “But I wanted you to just be my sister more.”

Alexia felt her heart shatter, but she fought against the tears welling in her eyes. “I am so sorry.” She repeated, shutting her eyes tightly as she rubbed your back. “ I… If you want to quit, I will support you. I won’t be disappointed in you, I will always support you. No matter what you do or don’t do, I will always be your sister. And you will always have me.”

“No, Ale, I don’t know that I want to quit, I just… I can’t do it anymore. Not like this. It’s too hard.” You sobbed, hiding your face in your sister’s shirt.

“Okay. Okay, cariño. We’ll figure it out, alright? We’ll figure it all out.” Alexia promised.

You hoped she was right.

--------

Therapy later that day was… alright. You broke down again, detailing your near constant anxiety and stress, and admitting to Ana that you’d bought adderall. You don’t quite remember what you said, honestly. It was a blur. You remembered crying, remembered holding Alexia’s hand. Explaining to her that you were so obsessed with school because you wanted to have something if football didn’t work. You never wanted to disappoint your family, Alexia most of all. Alexia had cried too. You remembered what she said clearly, and even now, three weeks later, you thought of her words.

“Hermanita, I don’t care if you are a footballer. I don’t care if you get a degree or get an impressive job. I don’t care what you do, as long as you are happy and healthy and okay. That is all that matters to me. And that is all that matters to Mami and Alba, too. I love you, nena. That is not conditional or dependent on anything.”

And she had proven that. She had been patient, kind, and thoughtful. Supportive. Even when you took three weeks off of football and school to get your anxiety under control. She was there through every sleepless night and every tear. Alexia was the reason you got through it, and she was the reason you made the decision you did.

-------

You’d waited a bit to tell her. You were always going to finish the season out with Barça, but it remained to be seen whether or not you’d continue after the season ended. Alexia had prepared herself for you not to continue. For you to tell her that this was it. She’d made her peace with that. She was wholly surprised, then, when you sat her down two nights before you were set to go back to training and told her your plans.

“I’m dropping out of school.” You said carefully, watching her reaction. She looked stunned.

“But I thought… you don’t have to do that for me, nena. I just want you to be happy.”

The thing was, you believed her. And that was why you wanted to play again.

“I know you do, Ale. I’m doing this for me. I love football. I’ve missed it these past few weeks, much more than I missed school. I didn’t really care about school, I just wanted to have something. If I couldn’t make you proud of me with football, I thought I could do it through school.”

“I am proud of you. So proud of you, because of football and completely separate from it.” Alexia insisted.

You nodded. “I know you are, and that’s why I want to play again. It doesn’t feel the same as before, like your love for me is riding on how well I perform. That wasn’t ever the case, and I know that now. You’ve made it really clear, Ale.”

“But your anxiety,”

“I was having a hard time because I was trying to do school full time and football. I’m already so much less stressed. The pressure feels less intense. It feels like football can be fun again.”

“You are sure about this?” Alexia asked, gripping tightly onto your hand. She didn't want a repeat of three weeks ago. And she didn’t want you to be unhappy.

“I promise, I’m sure. I want to play. And if that changes… I’ll tell you. I know I can trust you. I should have known that all along, and I didn’t, but I do now.”

“You can always trust me.” Alexia affirmed. “You are sure? You want to play?” She checked again, looking intently at your face, trying to tell if you were lying to make her happy.

“I want to play.” You promised.

Her neutral face transformed into a huge grin and she all but suffocated you in a bear hug.

“I love you so much, hermanita. And I would have understood if you wanted to quit, but I love playing with you and I am so, so happy.” She told you, rather vulnerably. “I’m going to be better. I am going to make sure no one puts too much pressure on you, especially me. I won’t mess up again, nena, I promise. I won’t ever let you think that I care more about football than about you.”

You buried your face in her shoulder, sniffling slightly. “I love you too.”

It wasn’t just about missing football. It was about knowing, really really knowing, that your performance wouldn’t change how your sister looked at you, or how your teammates looked at you. You’d spent the last three weeks learning from Ana to see yourself as a person separate from your abilities on the pitch. You were good and worthy of love no matter how you played. And with that weight off your shoulders, you knew you wouldn’t care as much about being in Alexia’s shadow. You could just be proud of her. And be proud of yourself. You hadn’t needed school the way you thought you did, and you hadn’t needed to quit football. You had just needed to be honest with your sister, and be a bit kinder to yourself.

The following season, you would play better than you ever had. You found your place on the pitch and within the team, and you set yourself aside as your own person. Even if you were known as a great footballer, you would still always be known as Alexia’s sister. And you didn’t want to change that, because it was your favorite thing to be.

--------

hope you enjoyed! ❤️ leave a comment if you want, they make me v happy! :)

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #platonic reader #putellas!reader

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loveindefinitely · 1 year ago

Text

02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."

You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."

...Alright.

So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.

Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.

Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.

It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.

Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.

You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.

༊*·˚

Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.

"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"

"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."

You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.

Your mouth opens.

Gaz grimaces.

Your mouth closes.

He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.

You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.

"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.

Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.

He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"

Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --

Oh god. Your dead dad.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.

There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.

So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.

"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"

Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."

Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.

Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.

It's not to be, however.

"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.

Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.

"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.

"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.

"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.

They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.

There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.

"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.

You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.

Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.

"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."

"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"

Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."

You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"

"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.

"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"

"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."

Speechless.

You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.

What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?

You needed therapy. And coffee.

And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.

"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.

Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.

His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.

"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."

"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.

At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.

Your father was dead.

And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.

Stupid, stupid girl.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.

They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.

You don't tell him that.

"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.

Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"

Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.

"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.

You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.

"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.

"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.

༊*·˚

Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.

"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.

Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.

...Great.

"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.

"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.

"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.

The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.

Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.

How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.

"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.

But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.

You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.

"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.

The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.

And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.

People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.

Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.

"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."

Your stomach drops.

Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.

"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."

You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.

"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"

Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

Oh.

For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?

How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.

They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.

And he just.

Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.

What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.

You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.

Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."

He backs away. Doesn't argue.

It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.

You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.

Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."

You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.

If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.

But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.

Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.

No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.

You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.

But, you realise, this was a long time coming.

Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.

Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.

And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.

a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!

thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll

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mrsparrasblog · 7 months ago

Text

You're losing me pt 4.

prev part. part 1 next part

TW: Drug use, mentioned rape, mention of violence, medic is the worst human on earth

Simon sat down next to Johnny on his bed, holding the Scotsman's hand while giving him a reassuring nod. "We have the whole day time."

"It's complicated."

"I will understand."

"Promise to believe me."

"Promise." Simon didn't know exactly what had happened or how Johnny got this way. He always admired Johnny for his confidence and the way he made everything seem so easy. Seeing his boyfriend like this broke his heart. He knew Johnny would never cheat on you; he loved you, everyone loved you. He remembered that one day Johnny got piss drunk on a mission and a bird approached him. He showed her pictures of you for 10 minutes, telling everyone he had the most beautiful lass on earth. This man wouldn’t cheat, especially not with her, definitely not his type.

Simon thought she had just gone into Johnny's bed at night, removing her clothes and gaslighting him that he cheated. But when Johnny told him everything about the drugs, about the rape, about the way she tried to blackmail him, he felt like he needed to throw up. He was too young to protect his mother from this. He couldn’t do anything when it happened to him. He didn’t know you when it happened to you. But this time, he was going to kill the rapist. "You’re a good man. Don’t let her manipulate you into something you aren’t."

"I feel like shit."

"This won’t go away easy, love."

"I don’t know what to do." And he really didn’t know. Everything seemed and felt so lost. Simon believed him, right? But what if she tells everyone he raped her? It will be over with his military career. After she pulled that stunt you wouldn’t believe him anymore. The look in your eyes almost broke him completely. This was wrong. It went too easy for her like she had done this many times before or had been planning this for years. It was too easy.

"Let me fix it for you, Johnny." He was determined to do this. Through his head already went 1000 ideas on how to kill her. But every way was too easy, too nice for her. Rip her head off. Sell her off to the black market so she will experience first-hand the crimes she did to others. Burn her alive. Many possibilities.

"Don’t kill her, Lieutenant."

"You know she will do it again. Not only to you but to others."

"Do you think she already did this?" Johnny fiddled with his wrist. The bracelet that you bought him to help with his ADHD was gone. It always calmed him. You told him how you searched through whole Etsy to find some gems that should calm him down. He didn’t believe this shit, but it indeed calmed him down since it reminded him of you. And right now, you were the only thing he needed. He needed you to tell him that he isn’t dirty, that he isn’t at fault, that he is a good man.

"Would explain why she was transferred so fast to us from her old unit."

"Fuck." This needed to stop. He couldn’t let that happen to more innocent people.

"Let’s talk to Price, then I’ll take care of her, and after that, we get our girl back." Simon missed you just as much as Johnny did. For a split second, he was afraid that you were mad and disappointed that he didn’t check on you. But that wasn’t the selfless girl he fell in love with. He knew you would understand if you only knew. He could already imagine how you would apologize even though you didn’t do anything wrong. You were different than the medic scum.

"Do you think she’ll take us back?"

"Yes, promise." He placed a small kiss on the shaved part of Johnny's mohawk, a small gesture that the Scot always loved. Simon always knew how to calm him down. With that, they left in the direction of Price's office.

-------------------------------

He woke up with an immense headache and the urge to throw up. John really drank too much the last few days, but this will end now. He will concentrate on you and the job again. You forgave him for lying, at least that was the last thing he remembered before you brought him to his bed. On his bedside table stood a glass of water and one of your self-made brownies with a small note. "Take care of yourself, bear." You always jokingly called him a bear because that was what he was to you. John was the big cuddly bear who always kept you safe.

He knew by the amount of alcohol he drank yesterday, he should probably head to the medical department for some meds. He would never tell anyone, though. He was a hypocrite sometimes, always letting the other hungover soldiers run miles to torture them for being so irresponsible to drink before training. But he could afford the luxury of taking meds against his hangover.

So John went to the medical. He was annoyed when he only saw her there.

"Hello, Captain." She smiled brightly, which made him almost throw up on the spot. There was always a difference between the real, sweet-like-a-cake, like his girl, and the artificial acting sweetness she faked. It was disgusting. "Is there another medic or nurse in here today?"

"No, sorry, Captain."

"I'll go then."

"Come on, Captain, be professional. What do you need?"

"Just something against my hangover." He can be professional and still respect you, right? You won’t be mad he talked to her.

"That was easy. I'll bring you something."

She came back, still with that creepy artificial sweet smile. In her hand was a glass of water with, judging by the displaced white particles, meds. "Just some pain meds against headache and dehydration. Drink up, Captain, and then stay here for 20 minutes for the next med."

John drank it up. After a few minutes of sitting in the chair, he felt his limbs tingle weirdly. This must be one of those side effects of the meds.

"How are you feeling, baby?" Weird name.

"Don’t call me that." He tried to leave, but it felt like his body didn’t do the things he wanted anymore like he was paralyzed.

"I wouldn’t do that, John."

"What was in there?" This can’t be fucking true. This is one of those weird drunk dreams.

"Oh, baby, just some mild paralyzer. Don’t worry, it only lasts three hours, and you can still talk. That’s great, isn’t it? Oh, and Viagra."

Fuck, this is true. This is how she got Johnny. She is fucking sick. "What do you want?"

"You know, I really tried to be nice, but you all only talk about her all the time, so I took matters into my own hands." She said as she slowly sat down on his lap. John tried hard to do anything, but he wasn’t able to move.

"Look, you’re a pretty girl. You don’t need us. There is someone who loves you." He tried to be nice, and use his words to come out of this situation, but she already removed his pants. He knew it was over there until he heard the sudden voices of Johnny and Simon. He knew she could never outsmart them, and she knew it too.

"Fuck, fuck," she screamed, gathering the remaining meds and her things. She ran out of the room the second she saw the door open.

"Fucking hell, Captain, you're okay?"

"That fucking cunt drugged me. Get a fucking nurse here." This all didn’t go like Simon's plan. It felt like she was always a step ahead of them.

----------------------------------------

Kyle didn't notice any of the drama going on in medical as he used his time in the gym. Well, more of texting you instead of being productive, until.

"Fucking hell."

------

Tag list: @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121

A/N: I know you are waiting for her downfall, it will come promise.

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socksracoon10 · 12 days ago

Note

p2 where the argument turns into a makeout sesh yes or yes?

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐)

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: (𝘠/𝘕) (𝘓/𝘕) 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯… 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴? Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: I AM SO HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED FOR A PART 2 BECAUSE THAT'S ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT SINCE I POSTED THE FIC YESTERDAY... anon thank you I was over here giggling and kicking my feet reading your ask... uh halfway through writing this I realized I got carried away it's MUCH longer than I intended LMFAO Read The First Part: Hit and Run

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"Hey man, next time you race try not to kill the other drivers," (Y/N) (L/N) sunk down into the P3 chair next to Sainz, who had just won the race. He glanced over at her with a scowl, clearly wanting to say some nasty things if it wasn't for the million cameras in the cooldown room. She shifted in her seat, stretching her arms as she watched the race's highlights on the screen besides her. Carlos and her both had a spectacular race, considering they had started from the bottom of the grid more or less. She knew she had the skills to get to the podium, but she was surprised at the fact that Carlos had managed to somehow win the race from nowhere. It didn't seem like his normal self and she wondered what could've motivated him to actually drive good for once.

"Next time you race, try not to be cocky and drag other drivers down," Carlos grumbled, his voice was muffled due to the rag that was currently soaking up all of the sweat on his face. She glared at him, holding an accusatory finger to the air before Max had settled down in the P2 chair. He shook Carlos's hand, before waving at (L/N). The room was silent, spare Max rambling on about what he saw during the race. As Max continued to talk, (L/N)'s eyes flickered occasionally onto Carlos, wondering what was going through his mind. She was definitely in the wrong, but her ego wouldn't handle that and she needed to tear him a new one once they were done with all the celebrations. She always hated this circuit anyway.

"She's not supposed to be here, mate," Charles giggled, jerking his thumb towards the woman that was angrily storming into Ferrari's garage. Carlos looked up from where he sat with a groan escaping his lips.

"She isn't," Carlos stood up, taking the cap off his head to run a hand through his hair, "I suppose you've come to apologize for your behavior this weekend? Or last weekend? Or the many weekends before that?" "Apologize?" (L/N) snorted, rolling her eyes, "I've come to ask about what you said at the press pen!"

Charles, sensing the tension between the two, gently ushered the two into Carlos's driver's room before shutting the door. The last thing Ferrari needed after this lovely weekend was to deal with the drivers having to go through PR training once again, especially with the amount of times Carlos had been talking shit about (Y/N) (L/N). Carlos had stood by the door, arms crossed as he gestured with his hands for her to begin whatever stupid argument she had managed to pull out of her ass this time.

"You remember what you said?" She growled, and when she saw him shake his head, her nostrils flared, "You literally told the press, 'sometimes, I like to put people in the places they belong and that's precisely what I did with (L/N)', are you kidding me?"

"You should be happy," Carlos scoffed, "I could've said way worse. Besides, I was giving you a taste of your own medicine. You said after qualifying yesterday that even with a million practices, I'd still fumble."

"Yeah, because you do! You're inconsistent as hell and that's why-"

"And yet who won the race today starting behind you." Carlos interrupted her. She closed her mouth, chest heaving. Carlos could see the gears turn in her head, she was trying so hard to come up with something. He had a smug smile on his face and somehow this was more victorious than winning the Grand Prix.

"It doesn't matter if you win today or not, you won't be driving for Ferrari soon, anyway," She spat. She smirked at the way his face fell, her arms crossed with her head tilted upwards. That cocky look on her face that always drove him wild.

"You're such an asshole," Carlos seethed, and before she could respond with a snarky remark, his lips crashed onto her. His hands came to hold onto the sides of her face, pulling her as close to him as he could. He pulled away for a brief second to take a quick breath and noticed the way her eyes widened, "Did you just kiss me? Listen here buddy, I'll have you know that-" Her words died down when she noticed Carlos's eyes flicker to her lips. God, her absolute hatred for him made her forget how charming he truly was. She wouldn't admit to it, though. Not now nor ever. Right now, all they needed was to blow off this steam. She grabbed onto his neck, pulling him down to another searing kiss, eyes closed as their teeth crashed into one another. She tugged his hair and he squeezed her waist, both of them realizing that feelings may not exist at the moment, it was all about just shutting each other up.

"I hate you," She murmured before going in for another kiss.

"I hate you more," His lips attached to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that were sure to bruise her.

"Well, I hate you the most, stop trying to be better than me." She snapped in a strained voice and he groaned out loud, pulling back to stare at her,

"How much money do I have to pay for you to shut up?"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles didn't win the next race, unfortunately. He was a bit happy that he didn't DNF, but the fact that the winner of the race was none other than his sworn enemy did little to comfort him. He glanced over to Max who was at P2, and looked around to the room to make sure that rat wasn't lurking nearby.

"W-What was the gap between you and her?" Charles asked. He knew asking would literally do him 0 help, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know.

"I want to say around a good 20 seconds or so? Maybe a bit more, I wasn't too sure," Max responded, watching Charles sink deeper in his seat with a look of despair. He gulped, staring aimlessly onto the wall in front of him. How was she that fast? What had she done with the car overnight?

"I'm sorry for (Y/N) for the next few races," He heard her, loud and clear, as she entered the cooldown room, mocking him for what he said last weekend. Charles instantly glared at her, not even bothering to hide his true intentions. No amount of PR training could hide his disgust for her. She settled into her seat, relishing in the feeling of being the race winner.

"You do anything with your car?" Charles grunted, and she shook her head,

"No, no. I just have more skill," She flashed him a smile, before getting up once again to grab a bottle of water. Max, for once in his life, decided to be quiet in the room and see the argument follow through. He'd heard Charles tell him multiple times about how (L/N) got on his nerves, but seeing it in person would be amazing.

"I doubt that. You used to place below me during the races," Charles took a sip of his water.

"What are you insinuating then?" She snarled, and Max glanced over to the camera crew, signaling for them to leave. While this would do numbers for the ratings and news headlines, they were promised some share of money if they got their asses out.

"Um guys, I don't think we should be fighting, we have to cooldown anyway..." Max began, but his words fell onto deaf ears as Charles stood up from his seat to stalk over to where she stood.

"Maybe you'd be more likeable if you were honest with yourself, sometimes cheaters-" Charles began, standing his ground when she yelled back,

"So you think I cheated in this race? Seriously? That's your argument?"

"Well, we do know that last weekend there was water in your tires," Charles snapped,

"That wasn't my fault? Stop being such a sore loser, Leclerc. Maybe this is why you haven't won a championship yet."

Max's jaw dropped as he watched the words fly out of her mouth. Charles, in the meantime, tossed his water bottle to the ground and stepped closer to her with his finger in her face,

"At least I raced clean without losing grip when I tried to overtake someone. You just got lucky today, that's it."

"Luck, really? Yeah, tell me about your luck when you're fighting more with your teammate than with the other drivers on the grid during the race." She hissed.

Was it the air? Was it the fact that the adrenaline was still high after the race, or was it the fact that despite not being able to stand each other they were only centimeters apart. It didn't take long before Charles's hand dug into her scalp, pulling her head back ever so slightly as he kissed her. Seeing this as another challenge, (L/N) brought Charles down to the ground, both of them fighting to be on top while still furiously kissing each other. His hands gripped her waist and she had her arms around his neck, dragging him towards her as they rolled off of each other on the ground, tongues practically in each other's mouths with the intention of wanting to ruin each other. She scratched him, he yanked her hair, she punched his chest and he twisted her arm and yet their lips never stopped wanting to consume the other. It wasn't until (L/N) pulled away to breathe again did they both realize that Max was still there with a very shocked expression.

"I'm... I'm just going to leave and make sure uh no one else enters this room but uh guys you might want to... put yourself together before we get on the podium," Max had one hand covering his eyes as he walked out of the room.

"Do you think he's gonna tell people we just made out?" She asked, propping herself onto her elbows.

"I doubt it," Charles responded with a roll of his eyes, "I mean, who would go and loudly state that Charles Leclerc was kissing you of all people? I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."

He winced when her hand smacked the back of his head.

𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

Max never forgot. He never forgot anything. He had made a promise to himself that he would wipe that smirk off her face and he intended to keep it. Even with all the setbacks that he was facing this particular weekend. Back to back penalties, a grip drop and on top of all this, a very haughty (Y/N) (L/N) purposely bumping into him on the paddock with a bright smile,

"Have fun! I've always wondered how the view from the back would look like for you," She chirped, speeding past him on a scooter. Max's jaw went taut, and he did little to hide his anger for the rest of the day. He was going to make sure that the race tomorrow would haunt her for the rest of her life. She had chosen the wrong person to mess with and he was determined to prove it to her.

Max was on a different level during the race, he was unbelievably fast and it surprised everyone but mainly (Y/N) (L/N).

Her radio went off, and someone buzzed through, "Max is currently at P6, he's coming up behind you."

"What the hell?" Her voice was a bit quiet, still in disbelief at the fact that Max was now right behind her, "How does he do this?"

And before she can react further, she sees him overtake her as he flashed his middle finger at her before speeding off. That got her going, and despite the radio telling her to calm down and control her motions, she began to chase after Max. Her ego was bruised but surely she could redeem herself. Unfortunately, she lost grip and her car went spiraling out of control towards the barriers.

"A safety car will be deployed soon, Max," GP informed the driver.

"Who crashed?"

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

Max couldn't help the giggle that escaped his lips, and to quote Alonso he merely stated, "Karma..." before turning his radio off for the rest of the race.

By the time all the celebrations were done, Max walked past (L/N)'s garage and he noticed the way she was pouting, legs crossed as she was busy texting somebody. Her fingers flew across the screen, and it almost looked like she was about to cry. Max did feel a bit bad for her, he knew she had worked to get to where she was - she was after all the only female driver on the grid so she was talented. He walked over to her in the best hopes that he could try to make her feel better, I mean he wasn't a monster.

"Oh, look who's here, the ugly ass sloth who can't mind his own business," She sneered, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. Yeah, that was it. Max didn't want to comfort her anymore, he was going to stoop down to her level.

"You know, maybe if you learned to shut your mouth and admit your mistakes, you could've actually done well in the race today." He scoffed, towering over her. She stood up, going back to texting her friend with a scowl on her face.

"Texting your mechanics to help salvage what's left of the car?" Max snorted.

"No, I'm texting my friend about how some douchebag keeps talking to me like I even asked for him. Like why the hell are you even here? Go back to your own garage, asshole." She snapped, pocketing her phone. Max threw his backpack onto the ground besides her and took a step forward,

"You know I was going to be nice to you-"

"You said Karma over the radio, I heard that shit clearly," She hissed, stepping closer as well.

"I said it in the moment, but right now I was going to be nice. I was going to comfort you. You are talented, you're not a shit driver like I said you were, but God... your ego. Your stubbornness. Your... your absolute pathetic move to shift the blame onto someone else for your wrong doings. Get over yourself, you don't know shit about your own car and yet you always blame me for something during the race!"

"My car is completely fine before you wrecked it!"

"Oh, so that DNF last weekend was my fault? You rammed into me! Let's not forget that!" Max yelled, glancing over to the new shiny car that would be in use next weekend.

"Oi, eyes on me," She snapped her fingers in his face, grabbing his jaw to turn it to her, "Don't stare at my winning car."

Max yanked her hand from his jaw, glaring at her. Oh, he hated her. He hated her so much. Even when he wanted to be nice to her, she always found a way to ruin it. How was it possible for a woman as beautiful and genuinely talented as her to somehow always end up as the most annoying, stuck-up little piece of shit that he had ever seen? Within seconds, he had her against her "amazing" car with his lips onto her. She gasped in surprise, eyes darting to the corner of the garage to make sure all the mechanics had left, but considering the way Max was making her melt in his kiss, her worries soon faded away. Max had one hand pressing her down against the car, her back hit the edge of the halo and she groaned in pain, causing her to arch into him as he deepened the kiss. Her hands came to grip onto his shoulders as she bit down on his bottom lip, and she could feel him smiling against her.

"I wish you were like this every weekend," He whispered, delving into another kiss. She wrapped her hand in his hair, tugging him gently away from her,

"I hope you realize this is a one time occurrence. I have standards," She smirked.

"They must be pretty low then like your racing skills," Max snapped, kissing her once more as he felt her smirk fade against his lips. He really did mean it when he said he was going to wipe it off her face, he just never imagined it to be in this way.

"Shut up," She mumbled, "Just shut up."

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loveandmurders · 7 months ago

Text

Monsters love their wives II (Bo Sinclair x f!reader)

Hello everyone! This is the last part of this mini series about Bo being an idiot and hurting his wife even though he loves her. You can find the first part here.

Hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings: ANGST, comfort (in a dark way I guess), violence (graphic), blood, murders, fear, strong words, very morally grey reader, toxic relationship, mentions of cheating and sexual activities, mentions of torture, suicide and death, threats of sequestration... But Bo loves you 🥺

Bo had tied up the girl on the chair and had glued her lips together because he didn’t want to hear her screams.

He just needed to take his anger out and she was perfect for that, especially after what she just did. He was beating her with violence and insulting her.

“Ya saw this, whore?” he told her as he showed her his wedding ring “Kissin’ a married man, ya bitch, and believin’ I'd want ya” he said as he punched her face one more time. Her cheeks and eyes were already starting to swollen as her nose and lips were bleeding. He was about to break her fingers one by one, when he heard the door being opened which made him pause. He really hoped it wasn’t you because he didn’t want you to see him covered in blood like that. You were already afraid of him, no need to add more to it.

He was very confused when he saw Vincent coming downstairs and he turned his back to the girl who tried to scream for help.

“Better be important, Vince. Can’t ya see ’m busy right now?” he asked Vincent who started to angrily sign:

"It’s about your wife. Important enough for you?"

“... Ya know she is.” Bo nodded, a little bit worried now.

"Well Y/N thinks you are cheating on her and soon going to kill her! I promise her you were going to kill that bitch in front of her, but you better think of something very fast or you are going to lose her forever."

“What?” Bo was completely taken aback. He felt his heart sinking inside his chest. “But I love her, none of this’ true” he whispered

"Well if you hadn’t fucking hurt her the last morning and if she hadn’t seen you kissing that slut, maybe things would be better right now, fucking idiot!"

“How? What was she doin’ here?” Bo wondered, not even caring about the way Vincent was talking to him.

"Don’t know, don’t care. Bring the girl for a public execution. Because of you, I won’t even be able to use her body for the House of Wax or anything. No need to upset Y/N even more. Good job, really." Vincent paused for a few moments. "Fuck, Bo, don’t tell me you’re cheating on your wife."

“O’course not!” Bo exclaimed as he turned around and gave another vengeful punch on the girl’s face.

She lost consciousness and he started to untie her. Vincent helped Bo bring her back to the house to show you she meant nothing to your husband.

The eldest Sinclair brother was silent as he was trying to think on how he could fix the situation with you. He also was wondering what you were doing at his garage. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that you came to earn cuddles from him - even if he would have been more than happy to drop his work to show you how sorry he was.

When you saw the two men in the house, you had to admit you were a little bit relieved to see that Bo’s hands were covered in the girl’s blood and that he didn’t seem like he was in the middle of fucking her when Vincent interrupted him. Bo let the girl fall on the ground without a care in the world and quickly walked to you to cup your face in one hand. You refused to look at him at first but he forced you. He needed to see your eyes and he looked for them before telling you:

“Ain’t cheatin’ on ya, wife”

You swallowed hard and you fought against the thought that he seemed sincere. You removed your face from his hand and looked away. But he grabbed your face once again, in a very gentle way.

“I mean it. Ain’t cheatin’ on ya.” he insisted

“Then why were you kissing that girl?” you asked, gesturing with your head toward the woman

“And what were ya doin’ at the garage?” he asked back and it made you frown.

“Bo” Lester rolled his eyes at his big brother and Vincent also groaned in disapproval at Bo’s question, saving you from answering.

“Alright, alright” Bo grumbled as he let go of your face and knelt in front of you “She jumped on me, didn’t have time to stop her. Didn’t ya see me pushin’ her away? And once downstairs, I wasn’t… Ya can ask Vince, I was beatin’ her to death when he came. Ya can see the state of her face” he softly told you and you looked at the woman. Vincent roughly grabbed her by the hair to show you her face, and you had to admit she wasn’t looking too good. She groaned in pain as she was slowly getting back to reality.

“What do ya think, sis?” Lester asked you and you nibbled on your bottom lip.

It was true that it didn’t seem that Bo was cheating on you with that girl in particular. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kill you, and it didn’t mean you shouldn’t find a way out of Ambrose whenever you would be able to.

“Just kill her already. But not on my floor. I don’t want blood everywhere” you finally replied.

The boys relaxed a little, because you still seemed to consider this house as your home. Hence, it meant you weren’t going to leave. Bo kissed your forehead and you had to resist the urge to flinch away from him. He grabbed the girl by the hair and pulled her out of the house. Lester and Jonesy stayed by your side as the twins quickly put her out of her misery. She was quite lucky you had been there or your husband would have tortured her for hours before killing her.

“How feelin’?” Lester asked you and you simply shrugged

“Gonna grab that nap now” you replied and he nodded.

“Sounds like a plan, love” he agreed and he helped you to get up and followed you upstairs. He tucked you to bed and wished you to sleep well before closing the door behind him. Jonesy stayed with you and settled at your feet. You took comfort in her presence.

You did sleep a few hours, but you woke up covered in sweat, with the very clear thought that you needed to run away now. You didn’t remember the dream you had before waking up, but it was obviously a nightmare. You were feeling absolutely panicked. It woke up Jonesy who asked to get out of the room. So you got up, opened the door for her and then you frantically started to look for clothes in your wardrobe. You needed to find an outfit you would be comfortable in and you needed good shoes and…

You heard a very soft knock at the door and you froze, as Bo slowly opened it. He was about to ask you how you were doing and if you were hungry, when he saw you. Your hair was sticking to your forehead. You looked like a deer caught in headlights; you looked almost ill. He locked the door before coming closer to you. The gesture alone made you sick.

“Whatcha doin’?” he softly asked, his blue eyes piercing yours.

“Just… looking for clothes… I need a shower. I’m not feeling too well” you replied, half the truth, aware he would instantly know if you were lying to him.

“Still thinkin’ ‘m cheatin’ on ya?” he asked as he took a step closer to you and your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t trust your voice so you simply shook your head. “But ya’re still afraid ’m gonna kill ya?” he asked again and you cursed yourself for having said that to Vincent and Lester. You should have been smarter.

“I just need a shower. Please let me unlock the door” you said because you were just unable to sincerely reply to this question. You grabbed an outfit, without even really looking at it and you tried to walk past him but he grabbed your wrist.

“I know I shouldn’t’ve hurt ya” he said as he brought you closer to him. He took the clothes you had in your hands and threw them on the bed. He took both of your hands in his. “I was worried my wife wanted to go. O’course, I shouldn’t’ve reacted that way. But even if ya’re afraid of me, for the moment, ya don’t want to go no more? Ya know your place’s in Ambrose, by my side, right? Ya know I want ya and only ya? Ya know I’ll never let ya go anyways?” he whispered to you with a gentle smile

“Is it a threat?” you asked as you tried to stay strong. He quickly shook his head

“Ah baby, it’s just a promise. We’re married, remember? Together 'till the end.” he mused as he stroked your nose with his.

“Yes, untill you kill me” you told him and he looked back at you, his head moving to the side. It was really saddening for him.

“What were ya doin’ at my garage earlier?” he asked but you didn’t answer “where ya trying to find a way out? Did ya think ya could find some help?” he asked and you looked away. He grabbed your face, a little less gently than earlier that day “Answer, Y/N” he sternly told you and you heard the danger just under the surface of his calm voice

“I wanted to find a way out, yes” you admitted and it made Bo groan in anger.

“And why that? Don’t ya know it’s your duty to stay by my side, as my wife?” he asked you as he pushed you against the nearest wall. You just wanted to cry again but you didn’t want to give him that kind of power over you.

“And you, isn’t it your duty to take care of me? To be good to me? As my husband?” you asked back “You hadn’t been nice to me in weeks. You even did this to me then” you continued as you moved a hand on your sore and bruised throat.

Bo stayed silent and his dark demeanour instantly disappeared. He tenderly stroked your cheek before bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss.

“Don’t be afraid and don’t leave, and things will go back to normal” he promised

“I’m afraid, Bo” you replied

“It won’t happen again. I’ll do better. But don’t try to leave” he warned you

“Or what? You'll kill me?” you insisted, even though you knew you were playing with fire in this instant

“But love, why would I do that?” he asked as he pressed himself even more against you. You could feel his breath against your face “Don’t want to kill my wife. I want ya here, with me, forever” he whispered to you

“You can always ask Vince to turn me into a wax statue” you said and he let escape a humourless laugher

“A wax statue wouldn’t argue, talk and flirt with me, wouldn’t make love to me, wouldn’t tell me it loves me… Ya still love me, wife?” he asked as his lips were almost against yours but you turned your head to the side to prevent him from kissing you “Oh com’on, doll, ‘m missin’ ya so badly” he whined

“So what would you do if I left? You said…” you started but he cut you off

“Ya know that when ‘m angry, I say stuff I don’t mean. But I do mean that ya better don’t try to leave. I would indeed hunt ya down and bring ya back to Ambrose, where ya belong”

“And that’s all?” you asked, you needed to know what Bo had planned for you

“And I would tie ya up on that bed until ya would behave like a good girl. If I need to lock ya up inside the house to keep ya here, be certain it’s what I’ll do, without a second of hesitation. So do I need to tie ya up, love? Or will ya be a good girl to me?” he asked

You didn’t even need to think; you cupped his face with both your hands and you crashed your lips against his. You didn’t want to be tied up. You didn’t want to lose the small freedom you still had by badly reacting now. You were still afraid but you needed to be smart. Bo instantly replied to the kiss, so happy to finally be allowed to touch you that way. He was passionate, but also so gentle with you, as if he was afraid he could break you if he was too forceful. His hands were soon all over your body, enjoying to feel you. You were a drug to him, and not being able to touch you was quickly making him lose it. His lips trailed down from your mouth to your throat. He left very tender little kisses all over your skin, as a silent way to apologise for what he did.

“Fuckin’ love ya” he whispered to you “Ya know that, right? Would go completely insane without ya in my life. That’s why I can’t let ya go. That’s why I needed us to get married. I’m gonna be good to ya, I swear. As long as ya don’t try to go” he murmured to you in between kisses.

You simply nodded because you had no idea what to answer to this. You were a little bit surprised by such words and touch, and you wanted to believe him. You wanted to let go of your fear of the man, and you wanted things to go back to normal.

But something was broken now, and Bo would need to work very hard to fix this, and a lot of time and patience for things to truly go back to normal.

“Still love me, right?” he insisted because you hadn’t answered when he had first asked you. He slightly moved from you to observe you, eagerly waiting for those three little words to resume his kisses and lovingly caresses. You nodded.

“Of course, I love you” you said and the man instantly smiled and went back to loving on you.

It was then it hit you: you might have married a very dangerous man who could so easily kill you, he was a lost puppy without you.

“Hey, Bo” you said and he looked up at you. “I don’t want you to take care of the women anymore.” you told him

“Anythin’ you wanna” he nodded

“And if you ever hurt me again… I’ll make sure, you’ll never have me again either” you promised him and he frowned without understanding

“What?” he softly asked

“Married 'till the end, you said, and you’re not the only one who can kill me. I can too” you explained and his eyes widened

“Y/N” he whined “Don’t say such things” he whimpered, knowing he wouldn’t last more than a few hours without you in his life. And he couldn’t fight Death.

His lips found yours again, hoping to make you stop saying such horrible words and promises. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his wife. He would rather die.

However Bo never forgot those words.

Like you never tried to run away from him anymore.

Taglist: @murder-hobo - @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21

#house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x s/o #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x sister #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x sister #slasher writing #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n

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world0fmadness · 4 months ago

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TALK TO ME

lando norris x voice actress! reader

♡ general dating headcanons for lando with a voice actress partner!

୨୧ the game release dates are almost all wrong but just… shhh! you guys have been dating since mid 2022 <3

♡ related smau available here and related hc available here | view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: death stranding by chvrches - devil trigger by casey edwards

♡ sticking with the meeting story from lovely voice, i’ll expand on it a little!

୨୧ lando was streaming resident evil village one afternoon, wanting a switch up from his usual games and he’d heard good things about this one so why not play it?

♡ little did he know how much a video game would absolutely change his life <3

୨୧ within and hour he reaches castle dimitrescu

♡ he’s immediately in awe of one character, but it’s not who you’d probably think…

୨୧ instead of simping for lady dimitrescu, like most people do, he was down bad for bela dimitrescu who just so happened to be voiced by you!

♡ he was VERY vocal about how much he was in love with this character but especially her voice… almost demanding his chat to give him the name of her voice actress…

“ guys, who voices this character here? god, she’s got such a lovely voice hasn’t she? can’t just be me who thinks that… ” ( it definitely wasn’t just him, he converted almost his entire chat info bela dimitrescu worshipers )

୨୧ not long after he begged from the voice actresses name, multiple people in his chat post your social media handle and as soon as he sees it filling up the chat, he pauses the game to take a peek

“ bloody hell! that’s her? well the face certainly matches the voice, hm? she’s beautiful ” ( this clip of him goes absolutely insane on twitter )

♡ when you guys officially begin dating, lando goes on a binge, playing almost all of the games you’ve voiced a character in!

୨୧ one of the most infamous being until dawn, which he played on stream…

♡ he had no idea how easy it is to lose a character in that game and you didn’t tell him, wanting to see how far he could get before killing someone off

୨୧ it didn’t take long at all and the first character to die was yours :( you got your jaw pried open and head crushed by a wendigo

“ oh bloody hell, love! i’m sorry, oh fuck, that’s horrible, is it over? i’m so sorry, oh my god… ” ( you could be heard laughing so loud in your shared bedroom before coming in to offer him some comfort )

♡ safe to say lando was fucking traumatised… to see your face and hear your brutal screaming, it was way too much for him and he felt horrible! it was enough to make him restart the game

୨୧ on his second playthrough, he just wants to keep your character safe, all the others can get lost, he doesn’t care but his baby? she’s making it OUT!

♡ and your character does make it out! she was the only one left alive but lando is fine with that, as long as you’re alive

୨୧ whenever you’re on a comic-con panel, you’ll get a question about lando every once and a while

♡ like most voice actors and actresses, you the the motion capture for a lot of your characters too!

୨୧ this has led to a lot of footage of you and lando behind the scenes of games making into “ the making of ” documentaries!

♡ a fan favourite being the documentary for the last of us part II! it had quite a few clips of lando coming onto set and constantly making you laugh during scenes, making crude gestures towards you and calling you “ dotface ”

୨୧ he got kicked off set many times… but that wasn’t enough, oh no! naughty dog wanted revenge for how many times they had to reshoot a scene…

♡ so they got their revenge in the form of lying to lando! they told him they wanted to give him a simple, innocent cameo in the jackson section of the game! he’d be an innocent npc

୨୧ lando was so excited! he agreed right away, letting them take the 360 scans of his face and body, he couldn’t wait to see himself when he played it on stream!

♡ when he did play it on stream, he was incredibly confused as to where he was in jackson, he couldn’t find himself… but he figured maybe he just missed it! all the while you’re sitting in the next room, watching his stream with a downright evil smile on your face

୨୧ he comes across his face and body a little later in the game and oh boy, he was SO upset!

♡ his character wasn’t some innocent npc… oh no… his character was a wlf member that ellie, your character, has to brutally kill to proceed with the story

“ that’s me! for fuck sake! love, did you know about this?! ” ( of course you knew, but you were too busy laughing at how upset he was to answer his question )

୨୧ safe to say he never trusted a developer ever again…

♡ lando is a HUGE shipper for a lot of your character’s relationships!

୨୧ seyloy? he’d scream it from the rooftops, he was rooting for them to just kiss already for the entire burning shores dlc and he yelled SO loud when they finally did <3

“ finally! you know i was getting really worried they wouldn’t make it official… thank god ” ( again, you can just be heard laughing in the background before yelling out “ seyloy for life ” which he repeats back to you whilst chuckling )

♡ one of your favourite characters you’ve ever had the pleasure of voicing is clementine in telltale’s the walking dead!

୨୧ it was the first character you EVER voiced at the age of 8 and you really grew up alongside your character, always coming back to voice her in the following seasons as she grew up

♡ the final season at age 16 was especially special to you because it reveals clementine to be bisexual, just like you… and it’s how you came out to your fans too

୨୧ you and lando have said if you ever have a child, you’ll give them the middle name “ clementine ” because of how much the character means to you <3

♡ of course, children aren’t something you two plan to have very soon so you adopt a dog and end up naming her clementine ( you love calling her sweet pea too )

୨୧ you and lando treat her like a princess and take her everywhere with you guys! one time, you bought her a little replica of clementine’s hat and lando thought it was so damn cute, he made you wear yours and got a picture of you two together before sending it to EVERYONE he knows

♡ whenever you get new roles, he’s so excited for you!

୨୧ he loves letting you practice lines with him at home, though he can never stay serious for long and starts cracking jokes within ten minutes

♡ but he really is just so supportive! when your new game trailer releases, he’s sharing it on ALL of his social medias, flexing about how he has such a talented partner who has played all of these amazing characters and don’t even get me started about when he’s in the paddock… he talks about you to EVERYONE who’s willing to listen

“ well, she has a new game coming out soon so she’s pretty excited to see fan reactions to her character in that and then she has some panels to do as well ” ( it won’t be long before he’s pulling up pictures of some of your characters to show them too )

୨୧ and whenever he’s in the city, if he sees a billboard or any other type of promotion for your upcoming game, he always takes a photo before sending it to you! if you character is on the promotion, he’s asking if you know “ who that beautiful lady is ”

♡ if any of your characters get figurines, he buys them ALL!

୨୧ he has a shelf for them in his streaming room, next to the shelf with his racing stuff on it… two things he loves so much right next to each other

♡ since oscar is also a pretty big gamer and plays some games that you have a character in, it’s pretty common for him to send lando pictures of character at unflattering angles, jokingly asking him “ is this your girl? ”

୨୧ to which lando promptly responds “ yes, yes it is, and what? ”

♡ when you were nominated for a best voice actress award for your role as aloy in horizon forbidden west at the game awards in 2024, lando was ecstatic for you!

୨୧ you’d already won two previous awards, one for your role as clementine in telltale’s the walking dead and another for your role as ellie in the last of us part II in 2023, so if you won again, this would be the second award you’d received whilst dating lando

♡ he dresses up SO good for the awards, just as you do of course, and as soon as you arrive at the event and your pictures are posted to social media… oh it was a frenzy

୨୧ most people were going nuts over how good you both looked whilst some people said nothing would ever top him wearing the custom made cult of the lamb suit at the 2023 game awards

♡ the award show is going great, you and lando loving to see all of the other incredibly talented people receive their awards and chatting to people around you but eventually, it’s time for the winner of best voice actress to be revealed…

୨୧ lando holds your slightly sweaty hand in his, squeezing it as they read out your name as one of the nominees

♡ when your name is read out as the winner, lando lets out the loudest yell right in your ear before helping you stand up and giving you a tight hug

“ YES! oh i knew it love, i knew you’d win! go on, go get your award, i love you ” ( he gives you a quick peck before you walk off too, no doubt being screen recorded by fans watching at home )

୨୧ while you’re on stage accepting your award and giving your speech ( making sure to thank lando at least twice for his constant love and support ) he’s filming you and taking pictures of you on his phone, as if there aren’t multiple professional photographers doing that for him, he looks like a proud mother holding his phone up and very quietly cheering you on from his seat

♡ you guys go out for dinner with some of your co stars after the award show ends, lando constantly telling you how proud of you he is

“ i’m so proud of you, you know that? you deserve it so much, you really do, love ” ( he has so much love in his eyes whilst saying it, it’s nearly enough to make you cry )

୨୧ you spend the rest of the night enjoying a delicious dinner, your dream boyfriend by your side and close friends chatting amongst each other

♡ what a night it was…

landonorris: everyone say congratulations yn! my girl just won her THIRD best voice actress award! i’m so beyond proud of you love, my greatest achievement in life is being able to love someone as talented and beautiful as you

ynln ✔️: oh, lando 🥹

> ynln ✔️: thank you so much, i love you more than you know

> landonorris ✔️: love you so much more

> ynln ✔️: do you ALWAYS have to turn stuff into a competition? 😩

> landonorris ✔️: absolutely ❤️

landoynforever: congratulations yn! three awards is insane…

> loveyouyn: right? no one is doing it like her 😭

oscarpiastri ✔️: congratulations yn! speech could’ve used some work but i’d say it was decent

> ynln ✔️: i’ll pretend that last last little bit isn’t there, thank you oscar!

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 headcanons #f1 smau #dating headcanons

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prose-for-hire · 2 months ago

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Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Spike x Giles!reader

Part one of four! Be kind please💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.

You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.

It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.

You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.

You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.

You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.

You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.

You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.

“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.

“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”

“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.

You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.

“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.

You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”

“I like to think I’m not that predictable”

“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”

“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.

“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.

“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”

You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.

“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.

“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”

“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.

You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.

She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.

Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.

A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.

You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?

You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.

You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.

Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.

But he wouldn’t give anything away.

By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.

You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”

“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“You really are a bloody-”

“A what? Go on, say it!”

“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.

“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.

He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.

“I suggest you leave”

“What-?”

“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.

“You can’t mean that!”

“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.

You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.

You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.

You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.

You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.

“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”

You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.

You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.

“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.

“Why are you being nice?”

“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”

“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”

“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.

You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.

Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?

#spike btvs #spike x reader #spike btvs imagine #spike x you #spike imagine #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs

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hazelfoureyes · 2 months ago

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A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman.

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm.

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming.

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her?

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.”

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction.

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that.

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock.

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her.

“Love” her.

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself.

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move.

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door.

A random memory flashed behind your eyes, washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value.

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response.

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.”

“Oh hey!”

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill.

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers.

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin.

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up.

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back.

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off.

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms.

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.”

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners.

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!”

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth.

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine.

Yes, he was a man.

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before.

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him.

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love?

And did that matter at all?

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words.

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours.

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant.

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens?

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely.

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge.

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe.

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession.

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful.

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others.

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust.

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him.

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below.

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough.

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

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