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monzabee · 2 months

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the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?”

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.”

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–”

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?”

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?”

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.”

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.”

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone.

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.”

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?”

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment.

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!”

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.”

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?”

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–”

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–”

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.”

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?”

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.”

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?”

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!”

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover.

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!”

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?”

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.”

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?”

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...”

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?”

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers?

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?”

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?”

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?”

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?”

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.”

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.”

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?”

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.”

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?”

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?”

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.”

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?”

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach. But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to [email protected], but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.”

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.”

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?”

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?”

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.”

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.”

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?”

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?”

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.”

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?”

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.”

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?”

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!”

“I know you don’t,” he nods.

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!”

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.”

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.”

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.”

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.”

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up.

2K notes · View notes

xxsabitoxx · 11 months

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Satoru's Discovery (Pale Blue)

Read Pale Blue Part 1 HERE

~This is just a fun little glimpse back into the lives of 1st-year students Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and Reader. This is told from Satoru's perspective but still written in 2nd person format.

Warnings: Underage smoking, everyone in this implied to be 15, aka they are in their first year at jujutsu tech so there is obviously no explicit content.

Drip divider is from the wonderful @benkeibear

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

October 2004

He’s not focusing on anything but you, glasses sliding down his nose just a bit as he observes you eat. You’re talking so animatedly to Shoko, chopsticks dangling hazardously between your fingers as you use your hands to talk. You’ve always been a bit more hyper, especially when you’re eating a good meal. Satoru has only known you since April but he’s got some of your mannerisms down pat. Beside you, Suguru has his fist pressed to his cheek, elbow on the table and food forgotten as he watches you intently. There is a gentle smile on his face, perhaps this was the first time Satoru had noticed that level of focus in Suguru when it came to you.

Though, Shoko would later claim it’s been obvious from the start.

“You claim to have good eyes, yet you seem to miss the most obvious things, Gojo.”

“And then… oh, Gojo? You okay?” he hadn’t realized it, but his glasses had slipped off of his face all together and clattered to the table amidst his daydream. Now, he could feel warmth flooding his face as he scrambled to grab them, trying to ignore three sets of eyes boring into him. “Y-yeah I’m fine I was just so engulfed in your story that I..uh… I…” he couldn’t find the words to save himself, mildly thankful when you and Shoko had begun to laugh. Quickly, Satoru’s eyes had shot up to meet Suguru’s, the other man staring at him with a quirked brow. To say the two boys had clicked right away would be a false statement. It wasn’t until after their first mission that the two became close. At first, Suguru couldn’t even stand him.

Now, they were stuck together like glue, where one went, so did the other. Maybe that’s why it was so jarring to see Suguru looking at him like that, he hadn’t looked at him like that since their first mission together. It was a look of… “Jealousy? Why would I be jealous?” It had been three days since that incident at dinner and now the two were sitting on a park bench while you and Shoko were in the convenience store. Satoru shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were just looking at me funny dude, it was weird.” Satoru couldn’t stand the awkwardness, eyes averting to the opposite direction despite his sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Well, if I was looking at you funny, I apologize.” Suguru shrugged it all off, head turning the moment you and Shoko emerged from the small store. “Geto, Gojo!” You called, bouncing happily towards them with a lollipop pressed into your cheek. “These are for you!” You smiled as you handed Satoru a matching lollipop and Suguru a bag of chips. “I know you don’t like sweet things, so I figured you might like these.” Behind you, Shoko was lighting up a cigarette. “Thank you!” Satoru chimed happily, plucking the blue pop from your hand and unwrapping it excitedly. “Thanks.” Suguru responded as well, sharing a smile with you before tilting his head and asking Shoko for a cigarette from her stash. That feeling was creeping up Satoru’s spine again, the feeling that he was missing something but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

He watched from his spot on the bench, observing the way you laughed as Shoko begrudgingly handed Suguru one of her cigs and a lighter. He pressed the lollipop to his tongue, smiling along when it felt right but he truly wasn’t paying attention. Instead, Satoru had focused on the way you and Suguru interacted with each other. He observed a little more diligently than before, picking up on the small interactions and quick glances, the smiles you both shared when you must have figured neither him or Shoko were looking. “You coming?” He jumped a bit, noticing Suguru was standing and looking at him with an amused smirk. “Hu-oh uh yeah…” Satoru stammered, cheeks burning again as he was caught mid-daydream.

“You must be staying up late, Gojo. You’ve been pretty spaced out the last few days.” He fell into step beside you, choking out a laugh as he tried to play things off. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty invested in some of my studies.” which also wasn’t technically a lie. He had been reading and researching various physics formulas and equations and all the boring but technical stuff that would help him better understand his curse technique. “I always forget you’re actually pretty studious.” You chuckle, hand reaching out to push him playfully. Usually Satoru was on guard, not stumbling when you pushed him. Today, however, he found himself falling into Suguru’s side.

“Woah there, go easy on him.”

You had a grin on your face as you spoke, head turning upwards a bit to make eye contact with Suguru. The boy was smiling back at you, eyes shining as he spoke. “Shall we tell them? It’s really not a huge deal.” He laughed a bit as you slapped his shoulder. “Tell us what?” Shoko chimed, oblivious to the way Satoru’s world was starting to crack around him. “Well, Suguru and I…” and for a moment Satoru couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in his ears. “No way! I fucking knew it!” Shoko had laughed, pulling her third cigarette from her lips to point at you. “You’re both terrible liars… I figured you two have been dating for like two months now.”

Satoru’s hearing returned to him just in time to hear that, his stomach twisting in knots as his worst fears were met. You and Suguru had been dating for months now. That was the very answer he couldn’t grasp, only because it was the answer he didn’t want. “Satoru, you okay?” Your brows had knitted together in concern, once again he was met with three sets of eyes boring into his own. “I-uh-yeah I’m fine just… just surprised is all.” He recovered but it wasn’t as smooth as he wanted it to be, and once again he was met with an odd look from Suguru.

But it passed, the brown eyes of his best friend had returned to you, looking at you like you were his entire universe. It made his stomach tighten even more, mouth so dry he was certain he would choke if he tried to speak again. “I’ll spare you all the mushy details, but yeah. We’ve been dating for what feels like forever now.” You laughed a bit, deciding it was best to just move on from Satoru’s clear shellshock in order to not make things awkward for him. Just like always, you could read the white-haired sorcerer better than he could read himself sometimes.

Somewhere, deep down, you knew you were witnessing his heart breaking.

But for his sake, you would try and ignore it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #geto x reader #suguru x reader #gojo angst #geto angst #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #geto imagines

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thebearchives · 2 years

Text

to live a lifetime with you | CL16

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

REQUESTED: [] yes [X] no

WORD COUNT: 7.8k

SYNOPSIS: after twenty-six years together, it only made sense that charles would want to live out the rest of his life with you by his side.

WARNINGS: mentions of death (jules + charles' father), mattia being a decent human being at the end (sorry its for plot only), probably so many sentences that make no sense, time skips galore, me writing about love without having ever experienced it, french translations

as always, don't be a ghost reader!

to say that you and charles were childhood sweethearts would be an understatement, really.

you and charles had known each other since the two of you were born basically, with your parents moving in next door to the leclercs not long after your birth. charles had only just started standing on his own two feet at seven months, while your own six-month-old self had discovered the art of scooting your bum around to get from one place to another.

at the time, lorenzo was absolutely obsessed with all things relating to his baby brother, and when he saw the new neighbours walk into the empty house with a small baby girl nibbling on a cookie, he was ecstatic, running up to his mom and telling her that they could set up play dates for charles and you. honestly, if it wasn’t for lorenzo’s insistence, you were sure that you and charles would not have been where you were today.

it helped that your parents and charles’ parents became fast friends. growing up, your families did everything together. vacations, celebrations, holidays, anything and everything you could think of. the two of you grew up sharing everything, from toys to food, and everything in between. the only thing you hadn’t shared with one another was the fact that charles had a brother, and you did not.

when arthur was born, you had cried to your parents every day and night about wanting a baby sister. as a soon-to-be three-year-old, you had no idea that your parents were unable to have more children, receiving nothing but sad smiles when you continuously asked for another sibling.

nonetheless, you had quickly taken to arthur leclerc. and much like lorenzo had felt for charles, you and charles felt for arthur. instead of playing with charles, you were now focused on the new baby in pascale’s arms and how tiny he was. looking back, pascale would always reminisce how you and charles were horrible for her heart when arthur was a baby, always handing the small boy even smaller toys. arthur himself would always bring up the times the two of you tried to “kill” him as a baby, always finding it funny how you and charles defended yourselves.

you’d learned quite early on that charles was a strange kid. and rude, if your four-year-old self were to add. the two of you would always play together, and while you two shared all your toys with one another, charles drew the line at your barbies.

on his fourth birthday, pascale and hervé had bought charles a remote control car, and he had instantly rushed off to go play with it, pulling you along. he had run over your barbie doll that day, after having fought with you about how it was his birthday and he didn’t want to play with girly dolls. a few days later, charles had ‘accidentally’ ripped ken’s head off of his body, leaving you in a mess of distressed sobs and tears.

lorenzo could still remember the way you had knocked and entered his room, fat tears rolling down your chubby cheeks as you presented the headless figurine to him and jules who had been hanging out with the eldest leclerc. you had begged either of them to fix it, and while jules took the doll from your hands, lorenzo went off to find his younger brother and scold him for ruining your toys. instead of in his room, lorenzo found charles leaning over arthur’s crib, explaining to the youngest how cars were much cooler than your barbies. arthur, of course, had no idea what his brother had been telling him, too focused on figuring out how he could eat the plastic car in his hand.

since then, however, charles had been a lot more willing to play with your dolls, and soon enough, the driver’s seat in his remote control car was filled with your new ken doll that the leclercs had bought for your own birthday. charles would drive his car up to your small dollhouse, and then the passenger seat would get filled as well, with your favourite barbie doll sitting next to ken as they drove off to charles’ racetrack set up.

life was always filled with compromises and balance for charles and yourself, and as you two got older, your friendship became stronger and less of the cat and mouse relationship you had when you were four. when you two started school, you were lucky enough to be put in the same class, and at every parent-teacher conference, your teacher always said the same thing to your parents; vos enfants parlent toujours entre eux, jamais aux autres. your children are always talking to each other, never to others.

the two of you became attached at the hip, so one can imagine the turmoil you felt when charles decided to take up racing like jules, and left you all alone at your shared desk while he karted along the tracks of france. you were even more upset when charles came back talking about a french boy named pierre. you had decided then, with both jules and pierre taking charles away from you, that you hated french people.

during the time that charles began karting, your parents were often asked to house either lorenzo or arthur, sometimes even both, while pascale and hervé took the middle child to his races. you’d grown especially close to arthur and lorenzo during those times, and your parents had countless pictures of you and the youngest leclerc playing dress-up before bedtime.

when you met pierre, you had given him the cold shoulder, much like you had been giving jules whenever he came to visit. you were especially angry when pierre had been invited to join your vacations, but you couldn’t help but feel bad when charles looked at both of you with a sad look on his face. he wanted both of his friends to be friends too.

more years passed, and the resentment you had towards both frenchmen faded as you realized just how happy racing made charles. and when arthur started joining his brother some days, you never gave yourself the chance to feel upset, already begging your parents to let you miss a day of school so you could watch both brothers race on the same track.

you were twelve when you decided that you wanted to be involved in charles’ racing life. having grown up with hervé leclerc telling you and his kids stories about his own racing days, and having seen the leclercs and the gasly boy race on many tracks, it felt almost inevitable that you would follow a route in a similar field as them.

you had been sitting in your science class when you had your epiphany. you had listened in on jules and lorenzo talking about racing and the physics behind racing the night before, and when your teacher mentioned the word physics during the lesson, you realized that maybe, instead of racing yourself, you could join charles behind the scenes.

as charles made his way up the ranks in racing, you put your head down and studied hard to get the highest grades in your class. long gone were the days when your teachers would complain to your parents about you and charles talking so much, instead, they now focused on how you excelled in science.

the leclercs had been just as happy for your accomplishments as they had been for their own family members. if anything, lorenzo couldn’t help but feel protective over you, going as far as to sit charles down and help him realize just how much of your life you were changing to fit in with his lifestyle.

after that talk, thirteen-year-old charles spent hours in your room asking you if you were sure that engineering was what you wanted to do, and that he didn’t want to ruin your dreams just because of his own. you had giggled at his ever so slightly puberty-ridden voice, explaining just how sure you were that your future was going to be in engineering.

when puberty hit the two of you, your relationship dynamic changed ever so slightly. no more sleepovers in the same room, or talking about everything that happened to one another. suddenly, you’d find yourself laying in your bed, a science textbook laying next to you haphazardly as you wondered if the shock you felt from charles’ fingers brushing against your arm was static electricity or if you were experiencing the same feelings as the girls in the books you read did. charles himself, wasn’t fairing all too well, blushing from time-to-time when pierre would call you his girl friend–yes, with the space.

but alas, the two of you were oblivious to the growing and changing feelings between you two, brushing it off as just friends being friends. your parents had all exchanged glances when they caught you two sharing shy smiles, and lorenzo and jules couldn’t help but feel excited for the younger boy. arthur had gone as far as asking charles why his cheeks were red after you had left to go to the bathroom. the youngest leclerc had been pushed off the sofa and could be seen with teary eyes and a bruised elbow in the pictures from that barbecue night.

you were sixteen when you realized you harboured feelings for your best friend. you watched from the sidelines as charles transitioned to single-seaters, won races and made podiums with fortec. your realization had hit you while you watched him land his first podium, hugging pascale in absolute elation. the mother of the boy would later go on to tell you she could see the look on your face that day, and how she knew instantly that you knew you were in love.

you never reacted on your feelings, not wanting to ruin your relationship with charles. to him, you two were just best friends, and you would rather be his friend than lose him altogether. after all, losing him didn’t just mean living life without charles by your side.

losing charles meant losing all the leclercs; pascale, hervé, lorenzo, and arthur. losing him meant losing pierre. losing jules, the dumb frenchman who was smart enough to figure out how you felt for the leclerc boy. the one that always pushed your buttons yet was there to help you out just like he had done all those years ago with your broken ken doll. and yet, even without telling charles how you truly felt, you ended up losing jules anyway.

that day, you’d been at the leclerc household like always, watching the japan grand prix with the whole family. as tradition, you and charles had been wearing the team shirts that jules had given everyone at the start of the season. your eyes had been stuck to the screen as you watched jules’ crash, heart instantly plummetting to the bottom of your stomach as everyone let out gasps.

that same night, you had begged lorenzo to let you go with him when he left to go see jules’, but he had given you a sad smile and told you that he’d call you as soon as he was with jules so that you could talk to him as soon as he was able to. neither of your parents said anything when you followed charles into his room at night, holding his body tightly as you prayed that jules would be alright. no one said anything the next morning when they noticed the dark patches on your shoulder, or how your shirt had been crinkled as if someone had been holding onto it all night.

on july 17, you had decided that you would forever keep your feelings to yourself. losing jules was like losing your older brother, and you were sure that you would never be able to handle his loss along with the loss of charles. as you stood in your black dress, you had cried silently, apologizing to jules for going against his wishes and hiding your feelings once more. your heart ached when charles cried beside you, reaching a hand out to hold his.

charles and yourself never went back to normal, for normal included lorenzo and jules picking at the two of you while your cheeks flushed red, or sending an unsuspecting arthur to spy on you two to see what you guys were doing. instead, the two of you had found a new normal, one that involved sharing sleepless nights reminiscing in your memories with jules, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

days turned into weeks, which turned into months and years, and your feelings for your next door neighbour continued to grow. charles, however, remained entirely oblivious, both to your feelings and his own. he had been making big moves in the racing world, winning the title in gp3, and moving onto his first season in f2. you’d celebrated his entry into the f1 world as a haas developmental driver, and in turn, he celebrated the completion of your first year of university.

things were finally starting to look up, and then hervé fell ill. you watched from the back of the hospital room as his eyes lost a little bit of life every day. you watched as charles would hide his tears and smile at his dad, hoping to see him back in good health.

for your entire summer break, you’d find yourself staying at the leclerc household for multiple hours a day, sleeping over most of the nights. charles distanced himself from you, focusing on his racing, recounting his races with hervé for hours until a nurse would come in and tell him he’d have to leave. you couldn’t find it within yourself to be upset with him, knowing that right now, he didn’t need you, he needed his dad.

during this time, you had gotten exceptionally close to arthur, finding him sitting in his dark room crying silently as he thought about his dad. you would lay with him at night, letting the youngest wrap his arms around you while he shared how scared he was. you wished you could take his pain away, but you knew you couldn’t, instead opting to wipe away his tears and kissing his forehead.

you watched charles waste away, wishing you could reach out to him every time you saw him. he had lost his smile, the shine in his eyes dimming with every hour he spent watching his father whither away. by the end of the second week, you had decided you couldn’t simply watch him from afar, letting yourself into his room one night when you heard loud sniffles.

he didn’t move when you rested your hand against his back, and he didn’t resist when you pulled him into your side. at the feeling of your arms around him, his sniffles turned into broken cries and he sobbed against your clavicle. you stayed quiet, letting the boy blubber out words about how he tried so hard to stay strong but that he couldn’t anymore. you didn’t tell him it would be okay, you knew it wouldn’t. hervé was getting sicker and you feared that you would all experience loss once more.

when he had calmed down, the two of you laid down in his bed, charles’ head resting against your chest. his fingers fiddled with the bottom of your shirt, touching the skin of your back every so often.

“je lui ai dit que j'avais signé avec ferrari,” his voice was quiet, barely louder than a whisper. i told him i signed with ferrari,

your hand found its way to his head, twirling the strands with your fingers, “comment a-t-il réagi?” how did he react?

charles’ voice broke, “il était si heureux pour moi,” his arms tightened around you, “mais je lui ai menti.” he was so happy for me, but i lied to him.

“maman est contrariée, elle a dit que je n'aurais pas dû mentir,” he sniffled, “mais je lui ai dit que j'avais signé pour 2019. je ne voulais pas mentir alors je me suis donné du temps. je veux que cela se produise.” mom is upset, said i shouldn’t have lied, but i told him i signed for 2019. i didn’t want to lie so i gave myself time. i want to make it happen.

“tu as le temps, char,” you used your hand to pull his head back, “tu as deux ans pour en faire une réalité.” you’ve got time, char, you’ve got two years to make it a reality.

his eyes glistened with tears, “mais c’est ferrari.” but it’s ferrari.

“je suis un fils horrible,” he looked away, “je lui ai menti.” i’m a horrible son, i lied to him

“tu n'es pas un fils horrible, charles,” you moved to hold his face in your hands, “tu ne l'es pas.” you are not a horrible son, charles. you’re not.

“je ne veux pas qu'il s'inquiète,” his tears slipped under your palms, “je veux qu'il parte en sachant que je peux subvenir aux besoins de notre famille.” i just don’t want him to worry. want him to leave knowing i can support our family.

your heart broke for him, “charles.”

“je veux juste qu'il soit fier de moi.” i just want to make him proud.

you leaned forward and placed gentle kisses against his closed eyelids, “il est et sera toujours fier de toi.” he has and will always be proud of you.

a week later, you stood a few feet away from charles, tears spilling from your eyes as you wore another black dress. hervé had passed away with his family by his side, telling his boys to look after their mother. your own parents stood silently beside you, tears slipping down their own faces as well.

after the service, you sat with the leclerc boys on the porch outside. charles’ arm pressed against yours, while arthur sat between your legs, head in your hands where you combed through his hair. lorenzo sat near the front door, keeping an eye out for his mother who sat on the couch, resting against your own mother. not a word was shared, all of you mourning in silence.

your relationship with charles turned delicate, walking on eggshells whenever you wanted to talk to him. charles was stuck in his head, he had a job to do. you had pushed and pushed to tell him to not race in baku until he exploded, yelling at you for not understanding.

“je n'ai pas le temps de ne pas courir, y/n!” his hands were tugging at his hair, “je lui ai promis que j'avais une place chez ferrari mais je ne l'ai pas. je ne peux pas me permettre de ne pas courir, je dois aller chez ferrari.” i don't have the time to not race, y/n! i promised him i had a spot in ferrari but i don't. i can't afford to not race, i need to get to ferrari.

and so you watched him race his heart out in baku, joining the leclerc family on their trip to azerbaijan. you watched as his sadness and despair poured into his racing. he was fast, enough speed to win the race he had dedicated to his father. his eyes had met yours while he stood at the podium and he felt himself look at you differently for the first time, his father’s words ringing in his head as he watched you smile at him with teary eyes.

it had been a couple days after charles had told hervé about his signing with ferrari when hervé asked charles to sit down and talk with him. his voice was weak and his hand shook as he reached out to grab his son’s hand.

he had smiled, “mon garçon, maintenant que tu as signé avec ferrari, pourquoi ne pas enfin te poser?” my boy, now that you've signed with ferrari, why don't you finally settle down?

“se poser?” charles had been confused, “papa, je n'ai même pas encore 20 ans.” settle down? dad, i’m not even 20 yet.

“l'amour n'a pas d'âge requis,” hervé’s laugh turned into a cough. love has no required age.

“je ne suis même pas amoureux, qu'est-ce que tu dis?” charles helped his father drink water. i'm not even in love, what are you saying?

hervé leaned back, giving his son a fond look, “mon garçon, tu es amoureux de ta meilleure amie depuis que tu l'as laissée jouer avec tes voitures télécommandées.” my boy, you have been in love with your best friend ever since you let her play with your remote control cars.

charles had since waved off his dad’s words, blaming them on his sickness. he had got it all wrong, you were his friend. nothing more, nothing less.

yet as he stood there, looking at you for the first time since you had fought about this very race, he realized that there was something about you that made him feel like no one else could. is this what love is, papa?, he had asked as he held the trophy over his head.

less than a month later, you found yourself sitting in your room, smiling down at your phone. charles had sent you a picture of himself, dressed in ferrari red, ready to participate in the mid-season testing. charles was almost there, another step closer to his dreams.

another month passed and now, you were preparing for your move to university dorms, third year looming around the corner. charles asked if you would like to go to mala beach with him. you’d agreed and the two of you sat in front of the bright turquoise sea, a comforting silence between you two.

“j'ai été signé,” charles had broken the silence. i got signed.

you whipped your head to him, “to ferrari?!”

charles let out a small laugh, shaking his head before looking back at you, “sauber, i’ll be starting with them in the new season.”

“c'est incroyable, char,” you gave him a wide smile, “you’re finally in f1.” that’s amazing.

charles returned your smile with one a bit smaller, “just hope i can make it to ferrari next season.”

“you will, i believe you can do it,” you leaned over and nudged me, “save me a spot in the pit wall, yeah? i’ll be waiting on your call for the 2020 season.”

charles had laughed, “of course, i will. lorenzo would have my head if i didn’t.”

“lorenzo is a smart man.”

the conversation died and you two focused back on the view in front of you. charles was nervous. he had invited you to the beach to do more than just tell you about his career. he wanted to confess to you.

the last few months had been painful— hard— but you made it better with just a single look. after the race in baku, charles realized that he had loved you for a lot longer than he had let on. he loved you when you wore his shirt to school, running late after a sleepover. he loved you when he walked in on you and jules talking about the physics of racing. he loved you when he watched you help arthur with his math homework. he loved you when you had held him close and kissed his puffy eyes, and every single time you told him you were proud of him.

he loved you since the moment he realized what love was, even if he thought it was platonic at the time.

a finger pressed against the middle of his eyebrows, “vous réfléchissez très fort, perceval.” you’re thinking quite hard.

charles’ brows unfurrowed, but a pout graced his lips at the sound of his middle name. ever since you learned of his full name, you had taken to calling him by a different name for certain situations. perceval was for when you were teasing him. he had complained many times that he hated it when you called him that, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it endearing all at the same time. he reached up to grab your hand and pulled it between both his hands, turning so that the two of you were sat across one another rather than beside.

he let out a small sigh, eyes focused on your hand in his, “je veux te dire quelque chose.” i want to tell you something.

you, noticing his nerves, didn’t say anything, only nodding.

you squeezed his hand and he continued, “je veux te dire quelque chose, mais j'ai peur.” i want to tell you something, but i’m scared.

your grip tightened slightly, “pourquoi as-tu peur?” why are you scared?

“j'ai peur de te perdre après avoir dit ce que j'ai à dire.” i'm scared i'll lose you after i say what i have to say.

you felt your heart race at his words, hands growing clammy. for years, you had repeated those same words to yourself, vowing yourself to silence regarding the topic. did he finally feel the same?

you willed yourself to stay calm, “you could never lose me, charles. jamais.” ever.

he gave you a nervous smile, eyes meeting yours for the first time since the new conversation rose. you gave him a soft smile, encouraging him to go on. you needed to hear him say the words first.

“quelques jours après avoir dit à papa que j'avais signé, il m'a dit qu'il était temps pour moi d'avouer mes sentiments,” charles looked away from you, “à l'époque, je n'avais aucune idée de ce dont il parlait.” a couple days after i told dad about me signing, he told me that it was time for me to come clean about my feelings…at the time i had no idea what he was talking about.

“il m'a dit que j'étais amoureuse,” he told me i was in love. charles spoke and your heart went wild. was this really happening?

“et quand j'ai demandé avec qui, il a dit que c'était toi.” and when i asked with who, he said it was you.

you blinked at him. charles’ eyes darted back to your face, his hands squeezing yours.

“et depuis, j'ai réalisé qu'il avait raison,” he gave you a soft smile, “c'est toi. ca a toujours été toi.” and since then, i realized he was right. it's you. it's always been you.

you felt like the small waves lapping at the sand in front of you suddenly turned large and splashed down on you. you felt like your world had just gotten a thousand times brighter. a weight you never even realized you were carrying, lifted off your chest. you felt like you were breathing right for the first time.

“y/n l/n, i love you. looking back, i have loved you from the moment you filled my memories,” his eyes searched yours, “tu as été la seule constante dans ma vie, et ce que j'ai ressenti pour toi a toujours été le même.” you've been the one constant in my life, and the way i've felt for you has always been the same.

“je sais maintenant que c'est de l'amour, et j'ai vraiment besoin que tu le saches avant que nous passions au prochain chapitre de nos vies.” i know now it's love, and i really need you to know that before we move on to the next chapter of our lives.

it was as if his words had been kissing you, leaving you breathless the moment he pulled away and stopped talking. charles had just told you he loved you. charles marc hervé perceval leclerc had just confessed to you.

a beat passed and he lightly tugged on your hand, the hopeful look in his eyes dimming slightly. you realized you had not responded.

“you love me?” after nearly five years of hiding your feelings from him, charles had just told you that he had felt the same. you couldn’t believe it.

he nodded slightly, “i do. je t’aime beaucoup.” i love you a lot.

you let the words sink in. he loved you. he loves you.

charles opened his mouth, “it’s okay if you don–”

“i love you, too,” you had let out a breathless laugh, “mon dieu, charles, je t'aime depuis que nous avons seize ans, quand tu as eu ton premier podium avec fortec.” my god, i have loved you since we were sixteen, when you got your first podium with fortec.

“fortec?” his eyes were wide as he realized how long it had been, “je suis un tel connard. tu as caché tes sentiments pendant si longtemps.” i am such an asshole. you've been hiding your feelings for so long.

his eyes looked watery with love, his forehead coming to rest against yours, “je suis désolé qu'il m'ait fallu si longtemps pour réaliser mes sentiments pour toi.” i'm sorry it took me so long to realize my feelings for you.

you smiled at him softly, your own eyes tearing up just as much as his, “mieux vaut tard que jamais.” better late than never.

to say your relationship with charles changed drastically after the confession would be a lie. the two of you spent the rest of your day at the beach wrapped up in each other’s arms, and charles had kissed your forehead before he drove the two of you home. the entire night you felt like you couldn’t sleep, and instead you spent your entire night texting charles with your curtains pulled shut, not wanting charles to see how wide you smiled with every text.

and although you two had confessed, you had neglected to discuss what would happen next.

charles had texted you at half past midnight the night before you left for university, asking for you to come outside. when you came out to your porch, he stood there with a smile on his face and an offer to go to the park you two used to play at as kids.

you were on the swings when he had asked you, sitting side by side and swinging back and forth slowly. you had been focused on the movement of your feet, trying to swing just slightly higher than charles.

“tu dirais oui si je te demandais d'être ma petite amie?” would you say yes if i asked you to be my girlfriend?

whenever charles reminisced this moment, he would say that the look you gave him when you registered his question had been the cutest doe-eyed look ever. your eyes were wide and your eyebrows had raised slightly. your lips were parted in the smallest of round shapes, and you blinked before responding.

“je pense que oui,” you slowed your swinging slightly, eyes bright with excitement, “veux-tu l'essayer?” i think i would. do you want to try it?

charles had given you a cheeky smile, slipping out of his swing and resting on one knee in front of you. he had gotten down wrong with his right knee kissing the ground, but you said nothing as your lips quirked into a smile.

“y/n l/n,” he reached for your hands and you let him grab them, “me ferais-tu l'honneur d'être ma charmante petite amie?” would you do the honour of being my lovely girlfriend?

you pretended to think about it, the hum turning into a giggle at the way charles’ face dropped in annoyance, “j’aimerais.” i would love to.

and much to the annoyance of charles’ nosy brothers, you two hadn’t kissed to set the new relationship in stone, instead wrapping each other into a tight hug, one where your feet left the ground, before charles placed a gentle kiss to your temple.

the two of you had been dating for four months before you finally had your first kiss. charles had asked you out on a date on christmas eve, and had been rather disappointed when it began raining halfway through. it was cheesy, you knew it, charles knew it, and anyone and everyone who watched you tug charles out from under the canopy and into the rain knew it too, but neither of you seemed to care.

charles’ cheeks and nose were slightly rosy from the mixture of cold raindrops and wind, and you were sure you weren’t fairing much better. your hands had wrapped around his neck as his found home against your hips.

“i’ve dreamt of kissing under the rain ever since i watched ‘a cinderella story’,” you had laughed, throwing your head back into the rain.

charles had pulled you closer, “well, ma princesse, i’m here to make your dreams a reality.”

sharing a kiss under the rain was cold, obviously— you couldn’t help the shiver that travelled up your spine when charles’ cold lips pressed themselves against your own— but at the same time, it was so warm. you felt like someone had lit a candle inside of you, warming you up from the inside out. when you pulled away, the two of you couldn’t help but let out soft laughs, hearts racing faster than any car charles had ever drove.

the two of you had spent the rest of the year laying under warm blankets, with a cacophony of coughs and sneezes being your main form of communication.

your third year in university was split halfway between studying or taking exams, and watching charles’ races or crying to him over facetime because engineering was already so hard. as much as you had wished to be there attending charles’ every race in f1, you were nearing the end of your second semester and were swamped with finals.

your first f1 race had been the 2018 monaco grand prix, and you’d spent the better part of your evening with your arms wrapped around him as he promised you that the next races would be better. the season had been rough for charles, but you had celebrated every good result, no matter how small.

it was your second holiday season as charles’ girlfriend when both of your worlds changed entirely. a couple days before christmas, charles had asked for you and your parents to join his family for dinner. when you had all settled around the dining table, charles stood up with a wide smile on his face.

“j'ai signé avec ferrari.” i signed with ferrari.

to this day, that dinner had been one of your favourite memories. the amount of smiles and tears shared, and the sheer pride that filled your chest when you looked at charles was something you had never been able to forget.

that night, you and charles found yourselves sharing a bed, hands intertwined between the two of you. his eyes were glossy as he looked at you.

a tear slipped out of his eyes when he closed them, “i didn’t lie.”

your free hand moved to wipe the tear away. your mind rushed back to the night you two had shared a week before hervé’s passing.

you leaned forward and kissed his closed eyelids much like you had done the previous year, “no you didn’t. you’ve done well, mon amour. i know he’s so proud of you.”

on christmas morning, lorenzo had surprised you with a letter from the ferrari engineering academy, offering you an intern position to gain trackside experience for your final semester of your engineering degree. you had cried and thanked him profusely, while he laughed at your blubbering figure. later that night, arthur and charles had fought over who you’d be a race engineer for, with the youngest pointing out that he would soon join the ferrari driver academy himself.

and so 2019 began, with charles driving for ferrari, while you gained experience working with the ferrari engineering academy. by the end of your final semester, you had been offered to continue your internship with the academy which you had accepted immediately.

2019 was also the year that your relationship became public, a series of events causing fans to go crazy. pictures of charles in a suit had gone viral after some of your classmates caught sight of him at your graduation, and while you weren’t in the pictures, fans were quick to theorize that his girlfriend was one of the students who was graduating.

speculations and theories about who you were had only just started when you made yourself known to the general f1 public, joining charles at french grand prix. it hadn’t been the plan, but after watching charles finish the race in p3 behind the mercedes, you couldn’t hold yourself back from wrapping your arms around your boyfriend and sharing a sweet kiss, unbeknownst to the cameras plastered everything to the big screens.

for the rest of the season, you made appearances on random race weekends, work being a lot more lenient than your university deadlines had ever been. fans had joked that you were his good luck charm, with charles ending up on a podium in every race you went to.

the belgian grand prix was a race weekend you could never forget, for more reasons than one. you were there to see anthoine’s crash, hand clasped with charles as you watched the scene pan out. you felt like you were eighteen again, sitting next to charles as you watched jules on the tv.

you had met anthoine quite a few times as you grew up for he, pierre, and charles had always been a tight-knit group. the frenchman had always been kind to you, and you found it hard to believe that he would no longer be cracking jokes with you about something pierre and charles had done while you were away.

both pierre and yourself had cried watching charles receive his award and dedicate his first win to anthoine. you wondered if he and jules were watching charles from above, smiling proudly for his accomplishment.

t was a home race that charles had won next, and the amount of people you had come across at work asking you to pass on a congratulations to charles was insane. you couldn’t complain though, you were proud charles was finally getting the recognition and love he deserved.

it was in italy where you celebrated your second anniversary, also. charles had gifted you a pretty necklace with his racing number on it, something you had worn ever since.

in late 2019, you had been given an opportunity to join prema racing as an engineer which you had happily accepted. as you all sat around the dinner table for christmas, you shared the exciting news. arthur had been ecstatic, explaining how he would be driving for prema racing starting 2020.

“stop pouting, charles,” arthur had rolled his eyes, catching sight of his brooding older brother, “je t'avais dit qu'elle serait mon ingénieur de course.” i told you she would be my race engineer.

charles gaped at his younger brother, “woah, woah, woah. qui a dit qu'elle était votre ingénieur de course?” who said anything about her being your racing engineer?

“cela doit arriver,” arthur had smirked, dodging the hand that charles has attempted to slap his head with. it’s bound to happen.

and so, you debuted as a racing engineer during a pandemic, something you had never imagined yourself saying. much like how you hadn’t imagined saying that you would be the racing engineer for one arthur leclerc.

much to charles’ chagrin, you remained arthur’s racing engineer for as long as he stayed in prema racing, which had been a total of three years. when it was revealed that arthur had signed with alfa romeo racing for the 2023 season, you had received multiple offers from other f1 teams to join as an engineer for their drivers.

charles himself had jumped at the opportunity, conducting a meeting with mattia to consider switching xavier out for you, presenting him with all of yours and arthur’s stats from the previous years. when word got out about you possibly becoming charles’ race engineer, ferrari fans from across the globe demanded that mattia offer you the job. at the end of the 2022 season, scuderia ferrari had released a statement that stated how you would be replacing xavier padros as charles leclerc’s race engineer for his future ferrari seasons.

it was christmas yet again, the sixth one since you had started dating charles, and said boyfriend couldn’t help but taunt his younger brother.

“je t'avais dit qu'elle serait à moi après tout.” told you she would be mine after all.

arthur waved him off, “oui, oui. elle était mon ingénieur en premier. et pendant trois ans, laissez-moi le dire.” yeah, yeah. she was my engineer first. and for three years, let me just put that out there.

you rolled your eyes, smacking the back of charles’ head before reaching over and tugging on arthur’s ear, “depuis quand suis-je un objet que vous pouvez posséder et faire circuler?” since when was i an object you guys could just own and pass around?

both brothers winced and avoided your eyes, mumbling a quick sorry before stuffing their mouths with food. pascale had laughed, always entertained when her boys got scolded by you.

the start of your first season with ferrari had gone amazingly, with both charles and the season’s car performing exceptionally well. charles had managed to secure a large gap in the points for the driver’s championship, leading the championship with two wins worth of points.

and that leads us to now, the final race of the 2023 season. the fight for the title had yet to be over, with charles and max flipping positions every few races. at the moment, max had been leading the wdc with only five more points than charles, said ferrari driver currently leading the race with the dutch driver hot on his tail.

“alright, char, we’ve got two more laps, you can do it. push, push.”

the sound of your voice had never failed to bring a smile on charles face, no matter how stressed he was when you spoke over the radio, “how’s it looking?”

“you’re quicker than max in all sectors but the last,” you read off your observations, “ideally, you’d want that last sector to be the quickest so that there’s no chance of him overtaking you. can you go any faster?”

you could hear the smile in his voice as he pushed his car to go faster, “of course, i can, cherié.”

you tsked, “no flirting on the job, leclerc. one lap remaining.”

the radio stayed silent for the next minute, charles focused on staying ahead of max who continued to put pressure on the monégasque from behind. you could see the red ferrari at the final turn, unable to keep the smile from growing as max’s tires locked up, increasing the gap between him and charles.

the mechanics began cheering loudly, rushing to the pit wall to cheer for your boyfriend who crossed the finish line first.

you had laughed loudy, “and that’s a checkered flag, mon amour! you are the 2023 world champion!”

charles exclaimed loudly over the radio, car slowing down for a cooldown lap. he let out a few whoops before settling down to give a quick message to the team, “excellent job, guys. wow, congratulations everyone. thank you for all of the hard work this season. today marks not only my first driver’s championship, but also our first constructor’s championship win since 2008.”

he continued to thank a few more people before letting out another ecstatic laugh. from across the pitwall, you could see arthur’s red and white car cross the finish line in fifth place.

“amour?” charles’ voice called out to you, “you there?”

“of course, champ. what’s up?” you gave mattia a confused look as he smiled at you.

“tu dirais oui si je te demandais d'être ma femme?” would you say yes if i asked you to be my wife?

your breath hitched in your throat. you felt like you were thrown back into 2017, twenty years old sitting on a swing while charles sat in the one next to you.

“je pense que oui,” you repeated, eyes beady with unshed tears, “veux-tu l'essayer?” i think i would. do you want to try it?

charles had rushed to you the second he parked his car, pulling you close to plant a kiss against your lips before he was whisked away rather quickly to complete his post-race duties.

in front of the cameras, charles expressed his absolute elation regarding winning the grand prix, as well as coming first in both championships. the interviewer congratulated the monégasque on getting most votes for driver of the day as well, before moving on to the question he knew everyone wanted an answer for.

“so, we all picked up on that last radio message there. can we expect to receive any happy news in the near future?”

charles had smiled and shrugged, “i guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

for the final podium of the season, as his race engineer and team principal, you and mattia would be joining charles. even after 26 years of being around him, your heart still raced when you saw charles join you two on the podium.

with the awards distributed, you had waited to get drenched with champagne, looking around confused when no one popped a bottle. charles got off his step, making his way towards you.

unlike his cheeky smile six years ago, the smile on his face today was tender. the crowd beneath the podium screamed loudly as he kneeled on his left knee. he did it right this time, you couldn’t help but smile.

just like he had done six years ago, he uttered your name, “y/n l/n,” instead of grabbing your hands this time, he held his hand out to mattia, who handed him a ring box.

charles opened the box and presented it to you, “me ferais-tu l'honneur d'être ma charmante femme?” would you do the honour of being my lovely wife?

and just like you had done six years ago, you pretended to contemplate, your smile peeking through as charles rolled his eyes at you playfully. you stuck your left hand out, wiggling your fingers, “j’aimerais.” i would love to.

the champagne bottles popped the second charles slipped the ring on your finger. you didn’t even care as the sweet champagne sprayed against your face and body, too wrapped up in the loving gaze of your fiancé.

and then, just like you had done for the first time under the rain six years ago, the two of you locked lips under the showers of champagne.

2K notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?”

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?”

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite.

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt.

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos.

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.”

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.”

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt.

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.”

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center.

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio.

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.”

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses.

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.”

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.”

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.”

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption.

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.”

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.”

Her as in you.

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

“We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.”

“I did tell him the truth-“

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.”

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates.

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him.

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?”

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?”

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?”

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?”

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.”

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over.

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie.

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss.

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well.

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.”

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance.

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.”

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!”

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience.

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did.

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger.

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.”

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.”

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end.

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment.

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth.

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been.

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back?

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.”

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat.

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts.

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you.

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room.

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano.

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.”

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before.

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep.

Were you ever his to keep, ever?

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you.

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you.

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.”

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off.

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat.

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock.

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?”

You were never his to keep.

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew.

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to.

“I made loving you a blood sport.”

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality.

“I want to be forgiven.”

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing.

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person.

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone.

You never came home.

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again.

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this.

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night.

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off.

He never dropped the key.

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated.

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.”

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page.

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play.

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness.

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through.

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench.

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips.

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you.

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

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#ghost's writing #eddie munson #maroon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #finally long enough tag lists to separate lol #voila! corroded coffin is sleep token! wahoo!#i recommend everyone listen to the discography of that band #just sayin #(dial tone is the only non sleep token song that is canon here)#i just can't let go of the death grip i have on that song when it comes to this fic #it was either gonna be catch your breath sleep token or bad omens #and sleep token captures the yearning #Spotify

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tadpoleteef · 6 months

Text

gamer girl 👾

18+ MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

pairing: austin x female!reader

warnings: SMUT, oral (m receiving), lil fem dom???, unprotected sex

summary: austin’s playing video games with friends and isn’t paying attention to you. long story short you end up trying to dom him which obvi doesn’t go far and then you ride him in his gaming chair yassssss.

a/n: hiii so i’ve been reading fan fiction for years and i’ve always wanted to write it. i wrote an austin butler one shot like 2 years ago, posted it, but it was just awful so i deleted it. then i had a the summer i turned pretty phase, and wrote a one shot about jeremiah fisher confessing his love to you. this story was also deleted because of how just awful it was. anyway, i think my writing has gotten a little better soooo here’s a little smut one shot for ya.

꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

it was around 8pm on a saturday night, and you and austin were at home, spending the rest of your night in your little apartment. you were sitting on your bed in a short white lace nightgown, scrolling through instagram. austin was across the room sitting at his desk, playing a game on his xbox. he had been playing for a little while now, screaming at his friends into the microphone and raging everytime he had to redo the level.

getting a little tired of his lack of attention, you put your phone down and walked over to where he was sitting. you stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders gently. he relaxed into your touch, leaning back into the chair with his eyes still locked on the screen in front of him. you leaned down to his ear and whispered,

“are you having fun, handsomel?”

it took him a second to respond, so you tapped his shoulder lightly which made him look back at you then back at the screen.

“uh- what? oh yeah im fine sorry im about to die”

right when he said that the tv went black and the words “game over” illuminated the screen. you could hear his friends complaining through the microphone. he threw the controller down on the game, rubbing his eyebrows and letting out a sigh.

you giggled a little bit, it was funny to see a grown man get so upset over a video game. “it's okay love, just try again” you spoke. he turned around with a stern look, “i can’t just fuckin’ try again, it’s gonna take me hours to redo all this.”

you were a little taken back by his harsh tone, so you took your hands off his shoulders and rolled your eyes, annoyed that the game was getting more attention than you. you layed back on the bed staring at the ceiling. you weren’t upset that austin was choosing his game over you right now, i mean he worked practically everyday so he needed a break sometimes, you were just craving him. jeez, when were you not? you wanted his touch, his lips on yours and his domination. you wanted him right now and that was the only thing going through your mind. acting on your thoughts you walked over again but this time you stood in front of him, between him and the desk.

“baby- could you please move?” he moved his head to the left and right trying to see around your waist. you stepped closer and put your legs through the arm holes of the chair, lowering yourself onto his waist. you were now facing him, your chests together as he looked at the screen with a confused, mad look. He kissed your cheek then laid his chin on your shoulder, pressing down the buttons on the controller. you smirked knowing he had no idea what was about to come.

you started off light, moving your hips back and forth. you weren’t sure if he knew you were even moving so you applied some more pressure, fully sitting on his dick. “guys over there ov-” he stopped mid sentence. with your smirk growing bigger, you went faster, now basically dry humping him. he switched the mic setting so it was on mute and questioned “what are you doing?”

you looked at him and took off the straps of your nightgown, letting it fall down to your waist, showing off your matching white undergarments. he looked at you up and down, drinking in your figure. you had him wrapped around your finger.

you bent down to is ear and whispered, “you’re gonna sit still and act normal while i take your dick, sound good?” you cocked your head to the side, awaiting his response. he looked up at you with a shocked expression, coming from your dominance toward him. “i like it when you’re bossy.” he squeezed your thigh. “and you didn’t answer my question.” you added to his compliment. he gave you the ‘let’s see what you got look,’ and you knew you had the okay. you took a little less pressure off his waist so he could pull down his sweatpants, boxers following.

you sat down so his member was resting, hard, against your stomach. you looked away from his piercing eyes and spat onto the tip, slowly taking your thumb and spreading it around. he bit his lip and closed his eyes for a split second taking in the feeling. he snapped out of his trance quickly when his friends started yelling at him for his inactivity.

he went to respond but you stroked his cock slowly and he but his lip to hide back a moan and put the mic on mute again. you bit the inside of your cheek trying not to smile after seeing how much pleasure he was receiving. he let out a low groan when you cupped his balls slowly. you stopped your hands, looking at him. he quickly mouthed “sorry” as he disobeyed you. “not one noise from you” he nodded and you stroked him again.

after a few minutes of austin holding back moans, you could tell he was close, he was barely even focusing on the game anymore, mostly on the way your fingers gently warmed his cock. you stopped and stood up moving your panties to the side. he furrowed his eyebrows, needing more of your touch.

“how bad do you want it?” you rubbed your clit slowly in front of him. he looked down at your hand then back up at you. “really really bad” he took one hand off his controller and grabbed your waist. you switched the settings so the mic was now on and got close to it, “hi boys, austins not feeling to well, gonna let him get some rest.”

after you finished your sentence austin said bye then immediately smashed his lips into yours. the kiss was sloppy but deep, both just focusing on grabbing whatever skin you could. he pulled away and rubbed the tip against your clit gently. you sucked in a breath, knowing that meant he wanted you now. you moved forward a little more and slowly sat down. you two had just had sex two days ago but every time he first entered you, it was like you were a virgin all over again. he was without a doubt big, stretching you out as you finally sat all the way down on his cock. you moaned and let your head fall back.

wanting more, you moved your hips back and forth, placing your hands on his chest. “does that feel good angel?” he questioned, blue eyes staring into yours. “yes, oh yes” you started to go faster, austin saw your need and started fucking up into you. at the angle you two were sitting at, he was hitting your g spot with the first thrust. your moans turned into screams as he hammered into you.

“oh my god aus that's so good” you moaned and he smirked and then faster, the room becoming hotter by the second. he took one of your hands and pressed it against your stomach hard. you could feel his dick going in and out of you. “you feel my big my dick fucking your pretty pussy? gonna put a fuckin’ baby you mama”

his words brought you over the edge, and he could tell you were about to cum. he circled your clit with his fingers taking one last glance at your gorgeous body being destroyed before you cried out a moan. your orgasm sent a hot flash through your whole body. your legs were shaking and your heart was racing. without even thinking you got off austin and got on your knees in front of him, trying to help him out.

he laughed, “such a good girl helping me out” he made a makeshift ponytail with your hair and was forcing your head down. the sounds coming out of your mouth were erotic. girks and glugs filled the room and you could feel tears streaming down your face. his dick started to twitch in your mouth and you grabbed his balls again. you felt the warm cum coat your throat before you tasted it. you swallowed and took your head off him, sitting back onto your calves.

he leaned forward into the chair, grabbing your chin and making you look up at him. He had never seen anything more sexy. your hair was all frizzy, mascara running down your face onto your neck, and a mix of his cum and spit spilling down your lip. He wiped it off with his thumb and then placed it in your mouth and you sucked the mixture off.

“you really thought you could dominate me?” he laughed and helped you up, sitting you down on the bed.

“hey, i had you for like the first 10 minutes” you responded smilining.

he wiped you up, got you all clean, and took you to bed. you two ended the night off by having multiple little tickle fights, and arguing over which board game you should play next weekend. right before you drifted off you heard austin's voice softly say.

“I will admit, domination by y/n y/l/n is something we should do more often.” his words took you by surprise, but you smirked and snuggled closer to him.

yep, wrapped around your finger

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x reader smut

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novasdarling · 2 years

Note

I feel like this is an unhinged idea but Mahito with a breeding kink + actually getting reader pregnant with some monster baby

Hahahaha I like your thinking my dear.

Give Me

TW: Suicide Mention, Noncon, Forced Relationship, Baby trapping, Abortion mention, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy, Female Reader.

The sun was setting. Watching as the sky became darker and darker, as the night rolled in, and the day left. Watching as your safety was being ripped from you for another time. It wouldn't be long till he came. It never was. After all, he came every night like clocked work. Once the moon was bright and visible. He was there, Mahito. Ready to indulge in whatever sick fantasy or curiosity he had that night. Whatever his dead, twisted heart wanted at that moment, he got.

Mahito took pleasure in playing with you. Contorting you any way he wanted, making you do things you had never imagined were possible. Then in the morning when he left, he would leave you in your room begging for death. Pleading with whatever god there was to have mercy on you and end it all, but death would be a mercy from a monster like Mahito and no god seemed like it wanted to get in his way. At one point you had toyed with the idea of giving yourself the so-called mercy you prayed for. Pausing every time you held a knife. Imagining if you were brave enough to plunge it into your chest. To rid yourself of his grip by any means. Yet, you knew death wouldn't stop Mahito from having his fun with you. He made that clear. All it would do would make it challenging for him, but he would still continue.

There was no escape from this hell, neither in life nor death and as you heard the floorboards creak behind you. You recognised all that was granted to you was a monetary relief during the day. A few hours to recuperate and heal your wounds the best you could before it was stripped of you once again. A moment of relief that was now over as the daylight disappeared.

All there could be done now was to wait. Wait for him to come again. There was no see in running. He'd always find you, that much he had proved, but the wait wouldn't be long. The air was getting colder, dropping rapidly. A sign he was near. It was moving around you, engulfing your body as you sat looking out the window. The cold was creeping along your skin. Clawing its way up slowly. Taking its time to leave a trail of goosebumps along your arms until it reached your shoulders. The cold changed to pressure. Laying its weight wherever it had touched you. Sinking you into your seat. Forcing you lower, to fight back against it. The weight was taking a shape, and second by second, it was becoming easier to tell it was him. His hands and body were on you.

"My favourite part of the day."

It was no more than a whisper. Right by in your ear, you could feel his breath. Yet, somehow his voice sounded so distant. He wasn't fully there yet. He was still lingering in the air. Making his way to you slowly. Playing with you. Scaring you before he even got there. You were his favourite. One he would take care of so he could resume having his fun with as long as your feeble mortal body could hold on. After all, all humans died eventually. Mahito just hoped it would not be from the enjoyment you two had.

"The bed."

Abruptly the weight was gone, and the chill had left as well. Mahito wasn't with you now. Which meant he was waiting for you elsewhere. Waiting for you to follow his order and pursue him like a puppy. Like a good toy, he had called you that many times. A good toy follows orders and then gets rewarded.

There was still a part of you that said no, wanting to resist and stay seated or run, but the part that odd part that knew his anger knew no bounds would always follow his orders. Even if you wanted to die, there was still a strong part that wanted to self-preserve.

The bed he had said. The bedroom. He wanted you there. You knew what he wanted. Knew what the bedroom meant. Mahito had figured out sex a few months ago. Figured out what it was and why it occurred. Stating he was curious about it. Wanted to learn. Forced you to show him, and who were you to refuse the curse? To say no to him when he could so easily kill you and everyone you ever cared about, no wasn't an option.

Night after night he would come. Sex was still on his mind, even weeks later. Trying new positions, new technics. Him telling you where he heard it from, where he had seen it. One time he had claimed he learned this position from a couple he had watched before he killed them. Things got worse when he discovered porn. He learned even more. Forcing you to try everything with him. Every position. Trying to make you sound the same as the pornstars. It got even worse when he learned what a female orgasm was. Deciding to abuse it. Making you overstimulated every time. He was having fun while you were in tears. Mahito tended to share with you what his new desire was. being upfront and having no shame, forcing you into any role he saw fit, but this time was different. He was quiet about his true intentions. Not letting you know the truth. He kept silent about his new interest, instead playing it out without your knowledge. You always assumed since he was a curse, something not living, he couldn't force a child on you. That he was shooting blanks. So it didn't matter he was fucking you raw. That a child from a curse was impossible. After all, curses are made not born. That he was just having fun fucking you and filling you with his useless cum.

Making your way to him, your mind still toyed with the question of why had sex stuck. Though all you could really do was endure what he wanted to try this time and hope this fascination drifted away sooner rather than later.

You could hope, after all. That was all you had, hope when it came to Mahito. He always got his way, so who were you to make it harder? If you followed along with his wishes, it would be better. He would sometimes even reward your good behaviour by holding off on a visit or two.

Even as you dragged your feet, you were still were met by him eventually. Seeing his full form sitting on your bed. You knew what to do, following the same routine as the last couple of months. For you to strip and meet him is what he was waiting for. If he had his fun, perhaps it would be an early night. They were rare, but they were given. Though as you stripped, your might was racing. This little interest of his, sex, hadn't disappeared as soon as the others.

Your sweater came off.

Why was it still lingering? It had been months?

Your shirt followed.

Why was he so interested in having sex.? In fucking you every night until the morning light came up?

Then your braw followed.

The worst part was that he insisted on fucking you raw. At least he wasn't living. His cum was all for show, right?

Your pyjama pants came off.

His interest in seeing if he could turn you into something and bring you back had only lasted a few weeks, a month tops.

Then your underwear.

You were now bare in front of him. Standing there as your mind kept asking questions, unable to find answers.

"Come here."

Following his order, your mind still raced with questions, with distractions. As he caressed your body. Stroking and squeezing you. Especially relishing in squeezing your ass, chest and thighs. Laughing when you winced as he got too aggressive. Pain was funny to him. He laughed when you cried that he was being mean. Smiled when you told him the bruises that littered your body was from him. Got excited when you begged him to fuck you softer cause your body just couldn't take it. Human pain was funny.

It wasn't long until you were laying under him, you tried to black out his image. His face, the way the lines ran all along it and his body. The way he grinned at you when he knew you were scared. The worse part was his voice. Talking, commanding. Telling you how much he wanted you today while you were busy. He would describe your day, letting you know he had been watching from the shadows. That he was always there with you. You needed to block him out and shutting your eyes would allow you to get rid of one of your senses that were filled by him.

"Tsk tsk tsk." He had stopped fucking you. "Look at me."

Mahito wanted you to watch. To see his face as he fucked you. As he used your body any way he wanted. Look into his eyes as he filled you over and over. He wanted his toy to be present, to not ignore him or his actions. Looking into his eyes as he had his way with you. Fucked you until daybreak, until you were dripping with his cum. Unable to hold anymore.

This night was like the others, except he had a new position. The mating press. You were shocked he hadn't learned of this one sooner, yet, thankful at the same time. Mahito had you pressed in that position most of the night. Whining every time he finished. Only to continue again and again. His word began to slur as the hours drifted on. Not making as much sense as earlier. However, you could still catch a few orders and words here and there. Some of his words haunted you though.

"I'm going to breed you."

It stuck with you, simply because it made you think. At first, you assumed it was just him repeating words from porn like the others, but then you realized. When was the last time you had your period? Did you have one this month? You couldn't remember. Your body went stiff, realizing what was transpiring. You were late, who knows how long. You had spent so much time simply trying to survive Mahito, you never stopped to realize why you hadn't bled yet. All you could do now was lay there, lay there in fear and continue to let all those questions from before. Find their answers.

As the night turned to day and Mahito disappeared. You ran to your calendar, you had tracked your cycle. Searching through the months, looking for the last of the red boxes. Not this month, not last, no they only appeared three months ago. Three months you had missed your period. Three fucking months.

You raced to the store, hoping that if you were a regular pregnancy test would answer your question. Would this cursed creature even make a pregnancy test be positive? Would any test be able to read if you were or not? Once you got home you found the answer. It was yes, the test could pick up on the creature growing inside of you. It was positive. Mahito had done the impossible.

All you had were questions when it came to Mahito, this only added to them. He never made sense, never explaining his actions fully, but at least before you knew what was happening. This was unexpected. Could you get rid of it? Would an abortion work on this?

Looking at yourself in the mirror. Staring at yourself, analyzing your body. It was mad, but you still lifted your shirt. Gazing at your stomach. Running your hands along it. You couldn't be, this had to be a bad dream. No god, if there were any, could hate you so much.

"Fascinating."

Mahito has sprung into view in the mirror. Standing behind you, in the door frame. He was gazing at your stomach. Looking over it again and again as he stood there.

"What the hell did you do?"

You were scared now, fearing the worse. The way he looked at you was terrifying. As if you were a wonder of the world. Just something to be analyzed and examined. A look he had never given you before.

"I wanted to know if it was true."

You were just his little science experiment. His school project to be tested on. You weren't a person to him, just something for him to use. If that hadn't set in before. It had now. You wanted to scream at him, cuss at him, hit him. Anything to get your anger out, but what use would that be? He had gotten you this time and there was no way out from him. Not that he now knew.

Mahito made his way to you. That same smile never left his face, instead only getting wider. He was behind you know, holding your form against him. Resting his hands on your stomach.

"It's finally taken."

"Mahito...Please tell me-tell me i-it isn't-"

"Oh, sweetie, it is. You're carrying my seed." He was nuzzling his head into your shoulder as he whispered. Kissing in between words. As if you two were a happy couple with thrilling news.

Mahito had gotten you pregnant. He had fucked some fucked up thing into you. He was going to force you to carry this thing to term, to birth it. Would it even be human? Or even resemble anything like you?

"W-what is i-it?" You were holding back tears.

"Hmm... I'm not sure, but I'm looking forward to seeing it." He saw the fear in your eyes. "It's okay if this one isn't to your liking. We now know we can always make more."

He was planning more. Planning to fuck more fucked up creatures into you. Make you something to bread him as many monsters as he pleases.

"I don't want this."

It was a whisper, but you knew he heard. Refusing to look at him in the mirror. Instead staring at his hands on your belly.

"Hmmm, that's sad because I do. I want to see you grow big. Like those women I see. Barley able to walk properly. Not fitting into anything anymore. Yeah, I want to see you like that." His hands began to rub your stomach as he held onto you. "I want you as mine like any other man could have you and if that means fucking you until you give me a whole army of monsters." Mahito leant in more, kissing your cheek before continuing. "Then I happily will."

#yandere #yandere mahito #yandere jjk #mahito #jjk #yandere mahito x reader #yandere x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #yandere jjk x reader #mahito x reader #yandere anime #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere smut #jujutsu kaisen #nova writes

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little-diable · 8 months

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A Losing Game - Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 8/?)

Chapter eight, here we go. I hope you enjoy the way this moves into, I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this! Thank y'all for the love on the past chapters! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, shower sex, some angst due to the kidnapping, regular CM stuff

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Nine

It took her a while to wake, forcing her eyes to stay shut, not daring to give away her awakened mind should she not be alone. With a quiet exhale leaving (y/n), she tried to focus on her other senses, on what she could feel, smell, and hear. But she was surrounded by complete silence, nothing could be heard, no cars, no beeping sounds that could indicate any machines, not even the sound of somebody breathing.

She felt the hard chair she was sitting on pressing against her aching back, her wrists unable to move due to the tape that was burning into her skin, keeping her glued to the chair. Fuck, panic arose in her system, not being able to move made the whole thing even more complicated, unable to fight off whoever had taken her.

It had been too dark inside the SUV to make out the features of her stalker, only his unfamiliar, deep voice had rang in her ears before he had knocked her out. She hadn’t even gotten any time to struggle, face falling forwards against the dark console, swallowed by the darkness within seconds before Aaron could come rescue her.

Aaron – oh god, Aaron. (Y/n) knew that he’d blame himself for letting her out of his sight, leaving her side for just a minute too long. Had he seen her stalker drive the car away from the BAU? Or had he thought that she had driven off on her own? No, he knew what had happened, they were already looking for her – they had to be.

Chills ran down her spine, a sensation so strong, (y/n) could no longer keep her eyes closed. She had to blink a few times to adjust to her dark surroundings. The room was small, looking like a prison cell, with only her chair, a table, and a small lamp that barely managed to alight even half of the room.

Where the hell was she?

Her gaze flickered down to the black tape that had been wrapped around her wrists, glueing her to the chair. With a huff breaking through (y/n), she tried to tug on her restraints, knowing that she’d eventually be able to break free if she’d get enough time to find her strength. Her body felt weak, leaving her to wonder how long it had been since her stalker had gotten his hands on her.

Fuck, she had been careless, in retrospect she should have been all too aware of the dangers lurking outside. She couldn’t help but curse herself for leaving Aaron’s side, for declining Derek’s offer, she would have been safe with them around. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

(Y/n) didn’t get any more time to curse her stupid actions, eyes flickering to the door which was pushed open. The man who stared at her looked unfamiliar, a stranger she hadn’t ever crossed paths with before – at least not willingly. She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved that he was a stranger, or scared, unable to tell what he’d do to her.

“Well, finally, sweetheart, you had me worried.” He wasn’t much taller than she was, with brown hair slicked back, and dark eyes hidden behind round glasses. The guy must have been in his mid-twenties, a lanky figure she could take down in a fight if she’d only get the chance to. “Now, don’t look at me like that, I warned you, didn’t I? You should have been a good girl, should have listened to my warnings, to the rules, but you’ve never been good at doing that, huh? Of course not, you’re sleeping with your professor after all.

A humourless laugh left the man, dripping with jealousy and hatred. Fear thumped through her veins as he took a step closer, forcing her to part her lips to flush some water down her throat. Perhaps she could use his anger to her advantage, perhaps she could try to rile him up just enough to force him to cut her restraints – she’d only need one chance to fight her way out of this.

“Who are you?” Her voice was monotone, not dripping with anything that could give away her fear, the uneasiness she was held hostage by. She kept her eyes on him, not daring to look away even for one second.

“That’s not important right now, darling. What counts is that I’ve got you here with me, and well, I’ll need to thank the lovely Penelope Garcia for that. She helped me get you after all.”

……

“Hotch, c’mon man, at least sit down for a few minutes. We’ll get your girl.” Aaron’s coffee-coloured eyes met Derek’s wide ones, letting go of an exhausted huff as he slowly sat down on the chair. It has been over six hours since (y/n) had been taken, forced to watch the video over and over again, watching how a masked figure had broken into the SUV, how (y/n) had stepped into the car all too obliviously, and how the SUV had hastily left the parking lot moments later.

“Alright, so we can rule out Lorey, we can rule out her family,” Emily repeated what they had put together hours ago, letting go of a defeated huff.

“So, we have nothing.” Aaron let go of another sigh, eyes momentarily squeezed shut to try and collect himself. This is what he had been fearing all this time, after losing Haley Aaron had known that he needed to be even more careful, that he couldn’t take any risks, for his sake and Jack’s.

“Garcia, anything you could pick up on the CCTV feed?” His dark eyes snapped towards Penelope, studying her tired features, not used to seeing her this quiet. She kept her teary eyes focused on the screen, not replying verbally, only shaking her head. With Derek’s hand placed on Peleope’s shoulder, they found themselves engulfed by silence. A silence that left their insides churning, knowing that time was working against them.

……

She helped me get you after all. She helped me get you after all. She helped me get you after all.

Bile rose in (y/n)’s throat as his words kept ringing in her ears. Penelope? It couldn’t be, not the one she had instantly clicked with. It couldn’t be, not the sunshine that had brightened the darkness she had been trapped in. It couldn’t be, it simply couldn’t be.

She needed to distract herself, needed to get a grip before she’d spiral. Her thoughts brought her back to Aaron, how he had touched her only hours ago, in the early morning, pressed against the dark shower tiles.

“Hold on to me, I’ve got you, baby.” Aaron’s raspy voice left her gasping, choking on the moans he forced from her. He had her pinned against the wall, hands holding her up as she slung her legs around his waist. With their eyes holding contact, he pushed into her, making them moan in unison.

Their hearts were racing, minds silenced by the intense sensations washing through them. She wondered if she’d ever get used to feeling him this close, deep inside of her, pressing against her stomach.

Aaron fucked her without holding back, his thrusts were fast, rough, and calculated, knowing that they couldn’t waste any time in the morning. The open-mouthed kiss they shared managed to swallow some of their sounds, leaving them clinging to one another.

“Fuck, Aaron, I can’t.” Her pulsing bundle was overstimulated from the two orgasms he had pushed through her only minutes ago, pressed to the mattress with his face buried between her thighs. No man had ever managed to make her cum this fast, this hard, an insatiable need that guided the two of them on.

“You can, and you will, baby.” His voice dropped with possessiveness, a dark touch that left her toes curling. Fuck, (y/n) knew that she was close already, once again letting go with a moan clawing through her without another warning.

Aaron kept fucking her, chasing his own high with his eyebrows furrowed together and his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. She could tell that he was about to cum, pulling out of her at the last second, watching his cum paint her lower stomach.

Fuck, she needed to get back to Aaron, to touch him again, to feel him again, to speak to him again. She had waited too long to finally be with him, and nobody could take that from her, and especially not her stalker.

As if the man had heard her thoughts, he waltzed back into the room with a smug grin glued to his lips. He wore a suit, trying to come off as sophisticated, as if he was just another normal guy, not the sick and twisted bastard who was holding her hostage. Only as he placed her breakfast down for her did (y/n)'s eyes focus on the badge dangling from his neck, clearly stating that he was working for the FBI.

The FBI? Had he been that close the whole time?

“It’s time for me to go to work, I was called in earlier because the oh-so-valuable assistant team member of the BAU is missing. Of course, they won’t find her, especially not since I’ll be the one supporting them.” The smirk he wore on his thin lips left (y/n) choking on her angry gasps, trying to keep quiet. He wanted to get a reaction out of her, wanted to rile her up – but (y/n) wouldn’t give in, she couldn’t. “You should eat something while I’m gone. And there’s a bucket for you, I’m sure you’ll eventually need the toilet.”

“Cut me loose, asshole, otherwise I won’t be able to reach the food or the bucket.” A raspy laugh left the guy, slowly stalking closer to (y/n). His breath fanned her skin, leaving her covered in goosebumps, torn between disgust and fear.

“You’re a smart girl, (y/n), I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I’ll see you tonight, babe.”

……

“Guys, this is Kacey, he’s from the Tech Department, he’s one of the best down there, I thought it’d be good for Penelope to have some extra help.” JJ’s voice echoed through the room, she shot Kacey a grateful smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Hi guys, it’s good to finally meet the rest of you, Penelope always speaks so highly of you. I’ll do anything to help you find her, I promise.” He nodded at the team before he was pulled in for a tight hug by Penelope. She and Kacey had crossed paths a while ago, spending some time in her office together as they talked about shared interests, making plans to go out with their friends together, and building a friendship she deeply cherished.

“Thank you, we’ve got no time to lose, it’s been over twelve hours by now.” Aaron’s voice was emotionless, no longer dripping with the fear he had shown his team, no longer appearing vulnerable in front of a man who was a stranger to him. “Garcia, you two will keep on following the unsub on the feed, the rest of us will go back to (y/n)’s apartment, we’ll comb through it again, and see if we missed something.”

“You found him on the feed?” Neither Penelope nor the others seemed to pick up on the surprise filling every word that rolled off Kacey’s tongue, eyebrows furrowed.

“I did! He thought he was sneaky, but he missed a few cameras, it’s not much, but maybe we can eventually trace him back to his work, his car, or even his home." Penelope shot Aaron a hopeful smile, clinging to the smallest detail. "Thank you for helping us, really, I know if somebody can push us in the right direction, it’ll be you, Kacey.”

.……

Sweat was pooling on (y/n)’s forehead, lips bloody from the way she had pierced her teeth into the thin skin. She had lost count of the amount of tries she had used to free her aching wrists, without any luck so far.

“Fuck, c’mon!" Tears dripped down her cheeks and a deep, shaky exhale left her, trying to keep herself somewhat collected. With another breath inhaled into her burning lungs, (y/n) collected all her strength to try and rip her wrists free. One last try. It took her a second to realise that she had managed to break through the layers of tape on her left wrist, having to shake her numb fingers a few times before she could free her other wrist.

She’d get out of here, for the sake of herself, for the sake of Aaron.

#Aaron Hotchner imagine #profiling 101 #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner smut #criminal minds imagine

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perpetualexistence · 4 months

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Sea Monster AU: Agony of a Sea Witch

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It sure has been a while since I've made a post for this AU, hasn't it? I know I said I would get this done in time for Mermay. But it's only technically two days away, so I consider this to be Mermay in my heart. That and it's Pride month so now this is just my contribution of incredibly toxic yaoi to Pride month!

What's with the song choice you might ask? And the title? Don't worry about it. Noah'll be fine. Probably.

But yeah this is like 3.5K words so I hope you guys enjoy my blood sacrifice Sea Monster AU update!

Content warnings: Murder mentions, toxic relationship, Alejandro being manipulative as per usual

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With his new body comes new risks. He can't afford to have his legs suddenly turn into tentacles on land. It'd be even worse if they transformed in front of Alejandro. So he's not leaving this cove until he's convinced he can leave it without instantly outing himself.

He starts with turning his legs to tentacles and back. A lot of it has to do with wanting them to transform. Which is good because otherwise this would be a pain.

As the adrenaline fades away, he's more cognizant of how weird it is to feel each leg split into four separate limbs, and then come together again. He shudders at the sensation, but over time he gets used to it.

It takes him all night until he's finally comfortable enough to make his way back home. He sneaks back in at one point only to be caught by an older sibling. They express their concerns about his recent behavior. He manages to get them off his back for now, but they're clearly still worried.

It's summer break at this point, so Noah has plenty of time to learn more magic. He lies to his family about taking summer classes so they don't question his time away. He tells the same lie to Alejandro so that Alejandro doesn't insist the two spend more time together.

That lie he's much more worried about. Not only because Alejandro is more volatile, but also because he knows that Alejandro is going to ask him about how his revenge went.

The intent lie Alejandro believes, so he won't have to explain why he did it. But he'll have to lie about how much he enjoyed it to cater to Alejandro.

Except it doesn't really feel like a lie. Because there's a part of Noah that knows he did rather enjoy it. When his mother asked him whether he was getting a job over the summer or staying at school, he almost admitted right there that he wouldn't need to get a job. Their biggest money problem is gone.

Noah has been considering a lot of people 'problems' now. It's easier to feed a problem to a ravenous sea creature than a person. He knows, on a logical level, that this is wrong and is a very concerning line of thought. But he's been through so much that he feels like he's done more than enough to earn it.

When he goes to talk with Alejandro, the large eel does pick up on his hesitation in taking pride in his kill. He's...surprisingly sympathetic towards Noah's reluctance. He admits that doing it in cold blood for the first time hits a lot harder than simply watching it. It's not something for the faint of heart.

It's why Alejandro was so happy that Noah was willing to try it out. Once you get over the morality of it, it's such a delightful, vindicating experience. Alejandro would love to be there one day to witness Noah finally let loose. Noah deserves it, truly. However, Alejandro won't force it. He's not that crude. If Noah does want to go further down the path of might then Alejandro will be happy to guide him along. Until then, Noah can take his time with it.

Noah leaves that conversation with zero suspicions from Alejandro, but so many questions. The way Alejandro phrased it was oddly sweet and felt like an earnest attempt to comfort him. But it was still encouraging murder. Even if it was arguably justified. And satisfying.

At least it made it clear that shrinking Alejandro was the only way to go. Once he was less dangerous, Noah could figure out what to do with him after.

But first of all he's got to figure out this new body of his. Knowing how to switch between human to cecaelia won't mean anything if his new tentacles keep slapping him in the face every time he tries to use them. Or using suckers to attach onto rocks when he did not mean for them to get adhesive. The retractable fangs are rather annoying since he keeps cutting his tongue with them. Not to mention the excessive amount of saliva that seems to come with it.

The most difficult part is learning how to operate eight lower limbs instead of two. It's also the most exhausting. Chef's training had done little to improve his endurance. Even worse since he's underwater where his whole body feels sluggish.

Slowly but surely, he starts getting better at swimming with his tentacles. He doesn't have the finest control over them, but he can swim with them and go in the direction he actually wants to go in. He isn't sticking to everything he touches with his tentacles, either. He considers that progress.

He'd still like to know how being an octopus was supposed to protect him from a giant electric eel. Sure, he can swim better now. That doesn't do much against someone who can easily outpace him. Or just zap him.

He knows the basics about octopi. He knows they can make ink clouds to confuse their enemies. Which might work for about five seconds until Alejandro goes around the small cloud. The more useful thing is the ability to camouflage. It'd only work when standing still. But if the ritual to shrink Alejandro means he has to go out to open waters, he NEEDS a way to hide himself. He wouldn't be able to afford Alejandro catching him collecting something, or worse, with tentacles.

Through trial and error, Noah finds out that his whole body can go invisible, not just his tentacles. All the better for him. He anchors his ability to camouflage with his desire to disappear. It's an easy feeling to pull up. He usually wants to stay out of most interactions, and his desire to get away from all of this is enough to get him invisible. The harder part is stopping it. Because it means letting go of the feeling. Noah can't really calm down to let go of it because Alejandro has him on high alert at all times. He just forces himself to think of something else, and it works.

All of this is just taking more time away from preparing the ritual. He hasn't even had the chance to read over it properly. He very badly wants to jump the gun, but that'll risk getting caught in a body he can barely control. But being unprepared for the ritual, and the lives it'll probably require given this book's track record so far, is also a huge risk. And during all of this, he's still going on hunts with Alejandro. Risks all around, and Noah feels like he's this close to snapping completely when he's pulled in different directions.

So when Owen sends him a text asking if he wants to hang out over the summer? You know what? Sure. Why not?

Noah deserves a distraction from all the things he's putting himself through. Is this distraction also risky? Yes. But it's not as if he's going to go out in the water with Owen. There's plenty to do in this incredibly isolated town that only advertises its incredibly visible beaches with the extrovert who has constantly been inviting him to going to another yacht party in Alejandro's hunting grounds.

God Owen would be so screwed if Noah wasn't setting up Alejandro's menu.

At least Owen doesn't push so much into what's going on in Noah's life once Noah makes it clear that's not happening. It's nice to actually have the ability to say no. Not the illusion of choice Alejandro brings. It's easier to forget all the things he's done when the most he has to worry with Owen is avoiding a nose milkshake.

Well, there is the fact that Owen is also still insisting on Noah coming along to group hangouts. More people means more lies and more suspicion. But it also means more chance to be in the background conversation. Not do anything.

Noah misses not having to do anything. So against his better judgement, he says yes.

He lets himself get swept into the hurricane that is Owen, Eva, and Izzy. He appreciates Eva not asking any questions from him and just letting him exist. Plus watching her go off on people is fun. Izzy, for all the rabid energy she brings, is more than happy to make all the choices for what they're going to do. He's more than happy to just let her. Owen's both enabling all the chaos and making sure everyone's doing great. He doesn't question Noah wearing a scarf during the humid, sweltering summer. He just scoops Noah up when the heat exhaustion starts getting to him.

And Noah? He's just there. There's no expectations that he does anything. He snarks and they don't complain about his personality.

It's such a nice break from all the murder and deceit. It takes away from the time he could be spending to solve this problem. But if he doesn't give himself this he's pretty sure something's going to snap inside of him. So he fits it in between the magic and the hunting and the hanging out with Alejandro that the eel still insists on.

Hanging out with Alejandro does make hunting more bearable. And Alejandro more bearable. Alejandro still enjoys reading with Noah and bringing him smaller treasures.

Still, now that Noah's started to hang out with other people, he can how conditional spending time with Alejandro is. There's a stark contrast between being with people who could kill you on accident with their shenanigans, and being with someone who would kill you on purpose for trying to pull shenanigans.

It nags at him. Constantly. He doesn't want it to. He wants to relax for once in his life. He can't have that with Alejandro like this. He needs to stop distracting himself. No matter the cost, he has to go through with this. He's done too much now. He just has to keep playing this game a little longer.

He doesn't realize Alejandro's picked up on anything until they're on their way back from a hunt.

The conversation started off simple enough. Noah was making snarks about the people Alejandro had thrown into his gullet. They were long past having any sanctity for the dead.

Alejandro was pushing the boat that was carrying Noah along...and then he began to slow to a stop. They were nowhere near the shoreline. It was just open waters.

Noah asks what's going on. He's trying to sound as casual as possible. Maybe if he keeps faking it, he'll actually begin to calm down.

Alejandro promises it's nothing major, really. It's about a few things that have been bothering him, that's all. He's noticed some new things about Noah.

At first Alejandro thought they were great changes. He does find Noah's scarf cute, and he's very fond of Noah's new interest in Alejandro's passions.

But he's also noticed that their conversations have started to become more awkward. Like Noah isn't completely there for the conversation. He's just curious about what could be on Noah's mind.

Noah's immediately concerned as he now has to come up for an answer for this. It's just him thinking about school, that's all! And the whole murder thing! Giving that serious thought. That's the only thing on his mind.

Alejandro smiles at Noah. He wants to believe Noah. He does. But there's one other thing that's bothering him.

Noah's scent.

The day after Noah came back from his first kill, there was something new to it. Something charged. And salty?

It's very strange. Alejandro was willing to be patient for an answer from Noah. To an extent. The real problem, though, are the newest scents on Noah. They're all human scents. From different people.

Noah would have to be especially close with these humans for an especially long time for their scents to intermingle. Yet Noah hasn't mentioned anything about other humans. Given what happened the last time Noah was getting close with other humans, Alejandro is very interested in knowing what explanation Noah has for this.

Noah knew he shouldn't have let Owen bear hug him so much. Or let Eva carry him around no matter how convenient it was. Or let Izzy constantly invade his personal space. Even though the only way that he could have stopped any of them would have been not to be near them at all.

This was on him, really. For letting himself get distracted. Now he has to figure out what to tell Alejandro. If he tells the truth, he'll be dooming his friends. Alejandro will force him to make an impossible choice. It's what he always does.

He's racking his brain for something, anything to get him out of this mess. Alejandro is waiting for an answer. He does not want to be in this situation. He would give anything to get out of this situation. To just disappear.

"Que es esto?"

Noah looks up to see Alejandro looking down at him. There's some mix of confusion, horror, and anger in his eyes. It's worrying since Noah hasn't given a response yet. His eyes are also darting around Noah. Around?

Noah brings his gaze back down to the boat to figure out what Alejandro is looking at.

Then he looks down to realize that on instinct, he's camouflaged with the ship.

Oh.

No.

Noah's body acts before he can think twice about it. He jumps into the water. Staying on that boat would be a death sentence. At least this way he has a chance at getting away and figuring out SOMETHING.

He knows Alejandro is calling for him and he doesn't care. He's never transformed while invisible and he doesn't want to take any chances now. He's barely gotten any distance until he feels the hairs on his arms raise.

Invisibility means nothing to electrolocation.

Noah is grabbed and is pushed away from the surface. Noah lets out a shout as air bubbles escape him. He switches to using his gills since Alejandro wouldn't notice those anyways. He has a clear view of the fury on Alejandro's face as they swim deeper.

Alejandro demands an answer NOW. He won't return Noah to the surface until Noah shows himself and agrees to explain. Alejandro will keep him here until he drowns if he must. Because he needs to know how Noah knows magic.

Noah thrashes as he tries to get out of Alejandro's vice-like grip. Alejandro doesn't know about the gills, but he'll figure it out eventually. The most he can do is buy himself some time. He's terrible with coming up with plans on the spot but he's got no choice to learn through trial by fire.

He refuses to respond. Speaking would expose his gills. He can hide somewhere and wait Alejandro out if Alejandro thinks he needs to go to the surface for air.

Alejandro is still demanding an answer. How does Noah know magic? That would explain the new scent, but not where Noah got it from. Alejandro has scoured these waters thoroughly. He's the only sea creature here.

So how? And why? They've been having such a good time together. Alejandro didn't even know he could enjoy spending time with a human. Yet he waited with bated breath for Noah's visits. He had been looking for every excuse to keep Noah alive when he fully recovered from his journey here.

Then, when Noah suggested these hunts-

"What?" Noah asked. Holding his cards to his chest be damned. He could NOT let Alejandro try to make Noah out to be the bad guy.

"When you suggested the hunts." Alejandro repeated. He seemed too agitated to even notice that Noah shouldn't be able to speak underwater.

"I didn't suggest them! I never asked for this! You made it clear it was help you or die!"

"I never said you had to help me. I only said you had to give me a reason to let you live."

And no. No, that's not how that worked. That can't have been how that worked. Noah can remember the threat on his life.

"You made the offer to help me hunt all on your own. You could've offered only to spread my legacy and I would've accepted it. You chose to be just as vicious as me. And I was so delighted that you chose me over your own kind."

That's not how that happened. Because if it was, then Noah could have avoided all of this. If it was, then Noah might have been able to reason with Alejandro from the beginning. Noah wouldn't have any blood on his hands. He would still be a good person. Instead of whatever he is now.

It takes more effort than he dares to admit to keep his voice flat. "If it was a choice this whole time, then why didn't you tell me?"

Alejandro paused for a moment. He looked like he wanted to search for Noah's expression. There was none to give with the camouflage. "I thought you'd be happier this way."

How dare Alejandro? How dare Alejandro?

He can't stack the cards against Noah and then blame Noah for not playing the game right. He can't say Noah could have communicated better when he was the one who made Noah feel as if he couldn't say anything at all.

Months of pent up aggravation are bubbling to the surface. He wants Alejandro to hurt. He wants Alejandro to bleed. It's the only way this monster will understand the extent of what he's done to Noah.

Noah feels the transformation happen, and he welcomes it. He's revealed as legs become tentacles. The blue rings on his tentacles glow bright and fierce. He can feel Alejandro struggle to re-adjust his grip. Alejandro is transfixed by the glowing rings. Good.

He uses his tentacles to push at Alejandro's hand to give him room to escape the grip. It's working somewhat. It gives him enough room to sink fangs deep into Alejandro's finger. This was for every time the damnable thing had ruffled his hair. Every time he was given a playful pet or a light jab. Every agonizing moment of patronizing.

He can taste when he pierces through the skin. He keeps going. As hard as he can. Noah's saliva is pouring into the open wound. It's small, but it's something.

Alejandro shouts in pain but doesn't let go. Noah can see the water around Alejandro's tail crackling with frustrated electricity.

Then, Alejandro's grip loosens. Noah bursts out of it. Finally, his sacrifice was good for SOMETHING. He tries to swim away from Alejandro's range.

Alejandro uses the same hand as before to block Noah's escape and bring him back to face the merfolk. Noah is expecting to be squeezed again and tries to get off of Alejandro's palm before it happens.

He does escape. Alejandro's hand closes around where Noah had just been a couple of seconds ago. Alejandro looks...confused. His hand is trembling. He reaches for Noah again, but the hand is slower this time. Much easier to avoid.

"What...what did you do to me?" Alejandro asked.

Noah's rage is marred with confusion. Alejandro's arm slowly falls to the side. Limp.

That's when it clicks for Noah. He'd never looked up the exact species of octopus he was. He'd been far too preoccupied with other matters, and he thought it would never come up. Yet here he was, with glowing blue rings and a bite chockfull of saliva.

Except it was never saliva. It was venom. And now they're both finding out how deadly Noah had made himself.

The fear in Alejandro's eyes is satisfying. Noah's finally managed to turn the tables on him. Even if he never wanted it like this. The plan had never been to kill Alejandro. Just to contain him. Alejandro would have killed him if he thought he had to. So whatever's about to happen is just going to happen.

So long as he keeps telling himself this, he can ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

He can't ignore the gray mass of flesh barreling towards him.

Of course.

Noah should have realized it was always going to end like this. He's not going to be fast enough to outswim that tail. He's been martyring himself this whole time. Might as well go all the way. At least the few people he cares about will be safe from his stupid, horrible mistake.

His last thought is wondering if there ever was a way this could have ended differently.

The tail hits him. Electricity courses through his body.

He screams, and it goes dark.

(For all of you curious, Noah's a blue-ringed octopus! I would have shared a picture earlier, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise in case you knew about it already. Here is a lovely little picture of an incredibly deadly octopus the size of a golfball that can kill a human in minutes!

#sea monster au #total drama au #total drama #total drama noah #td noah #total drama alejandro #td alejandro #td alenoah #total drama alenoah #alenoah #giant/tiny #noah td #alejandro burromuerto #horror au #tw toxic relationship #cw toxic relationship #total drama horror au #td horror au

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my-brain-soup · 1 month

Text

I've Never Seen Luka, But Jon Kent Has

Basically I've never watched Luka but I read a fanfic where Jon gets the teen titans to watch it (parallels are drawn between Luca and Alberto and Jon and Damian) so now I will be watching it and writing the thoughts I have during it

No I will not give context and spoiler warning ig

Love the music during the studio logos

We love a superstitious king, I mean, I have a feeling he has a point

IF THEY HIT HIM IMMA BE SO PISSED

Awww, he's such a polite little guy

Luca is a farm boy!!! I love my little Jon Kent varient :)

I, too, would risk my life for shiny object

I, too, do the murder

OMG THEIR SO JON AND DAMIAN BUT LIKE BEING HUMAN IS BEING A VIGILANTE AND ITS THE SAME AS THEIR START BASICALLY I LOVE THEM

HE EVEN HAS THE SUPERMAN CURL

Dami would say he invented walking

And pretend he's not proud of Jon

THEYRE SO CUTESY

Bruno? Or Bruce...o... you get the idea

Sorry, they have Luca grab Alberto like that and expect me not to see them as the most adorable little guy love story? Their so crushing on each other

"You're so lucky your dad lets you do what you want," cue Superman's comment about Bruce getting hit on the head all the time

NO WAY THEIR SENDING HIM TO (basically) BOARDING SCHOOL TO KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE "bad influence" THAT IS ALBERTO

Yes! Grandma, my queen!

"We can do anything" I love this movie

MY FRIEND SMELLS AMAZING

God I don't know her name yet but I love her

JULIA OR HOWEVER YOU SAY IT

We're not telling you our secrets! Tells secrets immediately.

FROM EVERYTHING YOU LOVE?????

I love Alberto so muchhhhhh

I love Mr dad human

Oh they know SOO many fish

No way everyone, including an adult, just saw that bitch rob some kids and didn't do shit

He is a sad little catfish

Why are his parents actually crazy

Aww, Alberto doesn't want to lose his friend

Noooooooo

Luca just wants to learn, and Alberto just wants to feel loved :(

How is the gayest looking dude there being homophobic?

When your new father figue wants to kill your entire species

Alberto got mad when Julia touched Luca's hand...

Why does Luca's hair looks like a croissant

NO LUCA WTF

I WAS ALMOST ON YOUR SIDE

GOD WHAT THE HELL

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, I LOVE YOU PLEASE DONT KILL YOUR NEW SON

FUCK.

IM NOT CRYING.

Nooooo

Their fort :(

BESTIE NO

NO ALBERTO MY BABY NO

STOP PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY SO YOU DONT GET HURT. IT'S NOT GONNA WORK

God the organizer adult lady us such a bitch

Why is no one concerned that the scuba kid isn't coming up for air?

Aww, his little clap self tap in

It's totally about to rain

Well shit. Sometimes I hate when I'm right

WAIT WAS THAT ALBERTO

I TAKE IT BACK I LOVE WHEN IM RIGHT

FUCK

NO I TAKE IT BACK AGAIN

I love them so much!!!!

MR DAD HUMAN NO

MR DAD HUMAN YES

YAYYYY

KING

Is the mom the same person that voiced Aunt Cass in big hero 6?

YES LOVE ME THE OLD LADIES

BRO ITS SO ABOUT BEING GAY I LOVE THIS MOVIE

I decided it is a metaphor for older lgbtq people, feeling able to come out after younger generations have proved that times have changed, I love them

(They're sisters, so they're not together, but they can still be gay!)

BRO ALBERTO

THOSE LITTLE LOOKS

YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE

JULIA 100% KNOWS

About his crush, not just Luca going to school

AHHHH HES SO SWEET

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, YOU NEED EACH OTHER

Their in love, your honor

THEIR LITTLE HAND HOLDING THING I CANT

IM SO MENTALLY ILL FOR GAY FISH

IM CRYING AGAIN

AHHH, THEY RIGHT EACH OTHER LETTERS

ALBERTO LOOKS SO SMITTEN WHEN THEY'RE ON THE PHONE

ALBERTO GETS HIS KNIFE

DOES HE BECOME A LIFEGAURD???

I love this movie

So much

DAMIAN ALSO HAS A CAT AND JON ALSO HAS A DOG

Also, here is my formal apology, her name is spelled Giulia, my b

Alberto learns to carve wood, awww

Also, does Luca EVER get shoes?

I've decided I need an Alberto to become a tattoo artist future au, at least like on the side or for fun or sm

The dedication is adorable

Yes, I just watched all of the credits. What about it?

I was rewarded with an after credits scene, so fuck you.

I'm gonna watch all the deleted scenes now, I'm not gonna specify which one so have fun guessing

Haha, they called Alberto and Luca the main relationship

BOO STOP TRYING TO GIVE LUCA A CRUSH ON GIULIA

YES! CONFORMED LUCA A GIULIA ONLY PLATONIC

YES ALBERTO CHEER ON THE KRAKEN AGAINST THE HUNTER

Also, she was almost a photographer, like TIM DRAKE?!?!?

Don't worry, Luca, I'll ride in a barrel lit on fire down a hill with you

Awww, they were raised by a lobsterrr

BRING BACK CANNED SEA MONSTER FACTORY

OH SEA MONSTER CAN PASS BUT IF THEIR FOUND OUT THE CONSEQUENCES MIGHT BE REALKY DIRE??? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME.

Oh, Jon is extremely charming

I love how they used different animation styles (in how they had the characters move) on land and in the water

PH THE TRANSFORMATION ISN'T CELEBRATED IN LUCAS FAMILY AND HE MAKES IT A CONSIOUS DEASITION TO CHANGE HIS THINKING FROM I SHOULDNT DO THIS TO I SHOULD EMBRASE THIS? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME

Bro, not the first version where Alberto outs Luca to Giulia, eek

And finally, Ciao Alberto!

Aww, Luca wants to see to Portorosso!

THE GAY OLD LADY SISTERS ARE DEFINITELY CLOSE WITH ALBERTO, AND I LOVE IT FOR ALL OF THEM

He finally has people who care about him!!!

AWW ALBERTO JUST WANTS MR DAD HUMAN TO BE PROUD OF HIM

Alberto, you do NOT got this

DONT LIGHT THE BOAT ON FIRE

OH SHIT

Noooo!!! Don't leave!!!

YOU'RE NOT HIS EMPLOYEE, YOU'RE HIS SON

HE CALLED HIM DAD!!!

YAY HUGS

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

MY HEART

I CANT

I love Alberto being an artist (a bad one, for now, but still and artist)

Okay, that's it, Ciao :)

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colesluvr · 1 year

Text

REQ: Heyy :]I don't know if you still accept requests, but maybe could you write a GN!reader × Lloyd? Like Lloyd had been busy lately and it's the readers birthday but he forgets? I leave your imagination the rest of it, but please let it end in Fluff cause one more Lloyd angst oneshot from ANYTHING and i will break LMAOOO

Birthday Surpise: Lloyd Garmadon x GN Reader

HII TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST, THIS WAS ACTUALLY RLY FUN TO WRITE! I HOPE YALL ENJOY <3

TO ALL MY OTHER ANONS WHO REQ'D: i have not forgotten about the rest of you, yall are coming up next 🫶

keys:

B/D : birthday day (monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday)

"Lloyd?" You called out to yourboyfriend who was training out by the courtyard. He seemed foucsed because he never noticed your presence. He aims the tip of his sword to the neck of the dummy he was currently training with.

You stood on the side of the courtyard, slowly moving around to face Lloyd from a distance.

"Lloyd?" You once again called, and this time your eyes caught a glimpse of a energy blast zoom it's way toward you. You reflexed fast and dodged it, the blast hitting the wall leaving a burnt mark.

"Y/N?"

Lloyd called out, running up to you as you stood up, rubbing your arm. "Are you crazy?"

"Sorry," Lloyd awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I-I didn't think anyone would be up this hour." He was right. The time was 7am. Everyone else is probably still asleep, or awake up in their rooms doing whatever.

"Sure, but you could've done much worse then make a burnt mark on the wall."

Lloyd aplogized once again, checked for wounds, and went back to the middle of the courtyard to countine training.

"Lloyd?"

"Hm?" He replied, landing a hit on the dummy.

"Well," You began, "I was thinking about something."

He nod, telling you keep talking. You stepped down on the rocky path and made your way toward him as you spoke, "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me today! Y'know, because it's nice and early and your already awake?"

Lloyd paused to look at you, "I'm sure, but not for long. I've been sloopy durning training sessions with the others. Trying to get better, but I'm sure we can get an hour in together.

"Just one hour?"

Will that be enough time?

"I mean, yeah, why not. I'm sorry babe,but I really gotta focus today."

You took a miunte to think, "Lloyd, do you know what today is?"

Lloyd slammed the dummy to the floor, it bouncing back up in less then 2 seconds and paused to think, "Uhm. B/D?"

You waited to see if he'll continue, but he didn't.

"Yes, but what's special about this day?"

"Y/N, what are you talking about? It's a normal B/D. Look, I'm pretty busy right now, how about we plan tomorrow? I'll take you to your favorite-"

"Forget it." You waved off the ninja, making you way back inside in the Monestary. Lloyd raised an eyebrow, but shugged off your sudden outburts.

Inside the Monestary, you felt tears begin to build up in your eyes. How could he forget your birthday? Is is Ninja business more importabnt then you? You walked down the hall, trying to cover our mouth to prevent you from sobbing out loud.

Why are you even crying? Its not our fault he forgot, he should be the one feeling your pain.

Sudden;y, you bumped into a figue the walked out of a room. In a panic you wiped your eyes as you made eye contact with the person.

"Zane." You chuckled, "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"It's quite alright, Y/N. What are you doing up so early?" Zane asked, looking at you. He noticed your eyelids were red but didn't say anything about it until you replied to his question.

"Oh, I-I just said hi to Lloyd, I-I'm heading back to my room."

Before he could say anythin you push by him but pause, "Zane, do you know what today is?"

"Well, of course I do. Happy birthday, Y/N."

You smiled softly, thanking him and returning to your room. He watched as you entered your rooom beside Nya's and Kai's.

It was now later in the morning, around 9AM. Lloyd came back from outside and he was done training for a couple of hours. At least 1 or 2 he told himself.

As he entered the kitchen, he ran into Zane who was finishing up breakfast. "Good morning, Lloyd. Have you finished training?"

Lloyd smieles as he sits at the table, "Yeah. I am." Lloyd soon looked around the room. With the corner of his eye he spots ballons and banners in a supply closet. He tilted his head to the side, "We still have these? I thought we put them away after Nya's birthday last month?" He said as he took a sip of water that Zane placed down for him.

"Well, we did put them away, but I took them back out for Y/N's birthday today-"

The sound of Lloyd spitting water out of his mouth caused Zane to jump slighty, obviously not expecting it. "WHAT?" He basically shouted, wiping his chin. "It's for Y/N's birthday today, I asked Cole to assit me in putting up the banners and Nya and Jay offered to get them presents from all of us. Kai will be in charge blowing up balloons."

Zane spoke, looking over to Lloyd to see panic all over his face. "Lloyd," he started slowly, placing down his cloth and cup he was drying, "You do remember it's Y/N's birthday? Correct?"

Lloyd stared at the table in thought. What the fuck? he asked himseld over and over, How the hell could I forget my own partners birthday?!

"I mean- I-I was distracted by all my ninja training, I-I didn't think-"

Zane gave a sworrowful look as he shook his head. Lloyd grumbled as he slammed his head to the table.

"Oh. Sorry Y/N, I didn;t know you were-" Cole had accdeintly walked in on you in the bathroom, and as he was aplogizing you were quick to move from the mirror nad wipe your eyes. You and him made eye contact and as you prayed he's close the door, he instead opened it slowly, noticing your puffy eyes.

"Y/N? Are you okay? Are you crying?

You shook your head fast, too fast, causing your head to hurt and tears to spill more. "N-No." Your voice cracked as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

Cole didn't know what to do, not until you choked out his name and the tears were more visiable. "Cole..." He immediatly wrapped his arms around you as you cried into his shoulder.

"Oh god, ssh. ssh. It's alright, hey, hey, hey!" He smiles as he sups your ace togethet to get a better look at your face. Your tear stained face caused a frown to form on his face, "Awh, Y/N." He hugged you once and rubbed your back in comfort.

"How-How could he forget?" You spoke.

You and Cole have moved into the hall and back into your room. He got you issues, your stuffed animal, your blanket, anything to make you feel more safe and happy. He rubbed your shoulder as he sat beside you,

"Who forgot?"

"Lloyd!" Your voice squeaked as you coughed out a cry. "How-How could he forget my birthd-day?" You squezzed your stuffed animal as Cole paused to think.

Suddenly, he started to chuckle and you snapped your head at him, More tears started to form, and Cole quickly noticed. "Omg, Y/N." Cole handed you a tissue, but still wiped your tears for you. "I thought you meant he forgot something like an aniverrsity, or a graduation."

You cocked your eyebrow at Cole, "Y/N. A lot of people forget birthdays! I do sometimes. Lemme'tell you, when I forgot Jay's birthday he was crying his eyes out. I felt bad, but he didn't take any offence of it."

"But- BUT YOU AND JAY WEREN'T DATING!"

"True, but he forgave me because it was only a one time thing. Tell me, when was the last time Lloyd ever forgot your birthday. Or Kai's birthday? Or even Darreths?!" You looked at him as you were deep in thought.

He was right.

Lloyd never forgot your birthday and even if he would, he would ask someone, no?

You shrugged your shoulders, rubbing the arm of your stuffed toy. Cole smiled, "See. Now, don't let one person who forgot your birthday ruin your entire day. Hae fun, you only turn (A/N) once!" He joked, shaking your arm to egt you to laugh, which much to your liking, did.

"You only turn any age once, dummy."

You and Cole laugh, not hearing the sudden door knock until the door creaked open. You both snap your heads to find Lloyd peeking his head in. Your stomach dropped for a minute, but you remained calm.

"Uh, Y/N. Could I talk to you?"

Cole looked back at you and smiled, you look back at him and slowly smiled back as he stood up after rubbing the top of your hair. He walked by Lloyd anc gave him a pat on the shoulder and a smile.

You placed your legs on your bed to sit criss cross on the mattress. As you didn, Lloyd entered with his hands behind his back. He sat where Cole was perviously before he left.

"Y/N. I-I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I forgot your birthday and that was a dumb move of me. I'm your boyfriend, and I've already forgotten your birthday, I felt so bad when I remembered. This morning, when you asked me if we wanted to hang out, I was a jerk and set you off for tomorrow. So-So I want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

You saw him reach into a bag he placed on the bed as he sat down, he took out a small box and handed it to you. You look at him, you could tell he was on edge. So you took the box, taking a moment to open it and when it did you were met with pieces of papers. You took one out and read it."

"Coupon #7 : Movie Night."

You look up at him confused, "I-I don't have any money on me, so I decided t go old-school and make you something, Basically, I made you (A/N) coupons, cause that's how old you are now, and which ever one you pick every hour we will do."

He took the paper from you, "Example, You got Coupon #7" Movie Night. Meaning tonight we'll watch a moive, you're pick but I do have those rented movies we got at Doomsday."

You paused, "I know. I know, It's not the best present, but I felt really bad that I forgot your birthday and I wish you could for-" Before you could let Lloyd finish, you jumped into his arms, tossing him backwards on the bed.

His back hits your blanket and you laid on top of him.

You laughed into his shoulder before showing him your smile with small tears in your eyes. "Thank you." You squeaked, hugging him again, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Your the best, I love you so much, Thank you, this was such a cute idea!"

Lloyd.EXE has stopped working.

"You're-you're not mad, or-or upset."

"Of course I was, but I realized it's you." You kissed his cheek, "I know you wouldn't forget my birthday because I know you'll remember sooner or later."

Lloyd's lips formed into a smile as you kissed his lips and pulled away. You took the box and closed it, shaking it.

"Now, what will the amazing Lloyd Garmadon do with the awesome Y/N L/N today!"

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unfinishedslurs · 2 years

Text

Established Stoncy (Eddie POV) (ot4 stoncy+steddie)

“Have you heard from Jonathan lately?” She asks quietly.

“He’s been avoiding me as much as you, Nance.” He hears Steve’s hitched breath as she works, and sees her brush a soothing hand along his shoulder. Isn’t she supposed to be dating that guy they’re talking about? How can she talk about him with Steve so casually, like she’s not a hop skip and a jump from cheating on her boyfriend?

“I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Hey, you didn’t do anything,” Steve says, and there’s so much fucking love in his voice Eddie has to squeeze his eyes shut. “He’ll come around, you know that. He’s just got to work through…whatever he’s working through first.”

“I don’t get why he’s avoiding you too. It’s like…”

“He’s not. He wouldn’t.”

“He did before,” she says, sounding vulnerable.

“I think we all agreed he was being stupid back then,” Steve says. “Like, me level idiot, and he doesn’t even have the brain damage to back it up. He’ll talk to us.”

“That’s not funny.” She pauses, and Eddie can see her clinging onto Steve’s words like a lifeline. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead, and Eddie turns away, pretending like he wasn’t eavesdropping on their private conversation.

"I don't know what happened between you two but... I'd get her back man. Whatever it takes. 'Cause that — that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen."

Steve’s mouth quirks, and he looks almost amused when he glances at Wheeler. Before he can respond, the ground rumbles, and they both stumble.

“I’m not the only one who sees what's going on there, right?” He asks quietly, gesturing between the two lovebirds.

Robin looks…caught, all the sudden, like he found her putting itching powder in his underwear. He doesn’t understand it.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, strangled. “They’re, y’know, umm…”

He doesn’t understand why she’s acting so weird about this. Maybe Steve and Nancy had a bad break, years ago, but they’re clearly still into each other. It’s not like it’s out of the ordinary for two attractive, straight—

Ah.

“So, Nancy?”

“What?”

“She’s pretty,” he offers, and Robin nearly trips on her face.

“Do you—“

“No,” he says, and glances pointedly at Steve. “She’s, uh, not my type.”

“Oh?” She asks, and then comprehension dawns on her face. She looks between him and Steve, and her eyes widen. “Oh!”

“Yeah, oh,” he says. “So, like, I get it.”

“Get…it…” She blinks, and then realization settles across her face. “Oh, I don’t—-“ she cuts herself off. “I mean, yeah, no, Nancy’s like, super pretty. The prettiest. And a total badass, it’s like, insane. That’s why I’m…crushing…on her.”

She winces at her own awkwardness, and Eddie nods in support. It’s always weird to talk about it so openly. But hey, if you can’t do it in a hell dimension with no people, where can you talk about it?

“Maybe she likes girls,” he offers up, even though he doubts it. You never know.

Robin’s subsequent coughing fit is so violent both Nancy and Steve turn around to check on them.

“Rob?” Steve asks, hovering. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” she wheezes. Eddie awkwardly pats her back, and tries to pretend it’s not his fault. From the side-eye Nancy sends him, he only partially succeeds. Finally she takes one last gulp of air, and stands up straight.

“So, Nancy!” She says brightly. “Guns, right?”

She takes Nancy’s arm and scurries off without a second look back at him, which is understandable. It takes time to talk about things like this.

“What was that about?” Steve asks, falling into step with him.

“Nothing.”

“Right.” Steve gives him a look, which he pretends not to see.

Steve is on babysitting duty when the car pulls up to the extremely beat up cabin Eddie’s been forced to hide in.

They both tense, but Steve looks outside and sighs in relief. “It’s Nance’s car,” he confirms, and helps Eddie hobble outside. Eddie’s putting a hand on the bannister to balance himself when a vaguely familiar figure stumbles out of the drivers seat.

“Jonathan!”

Steve is practically a blur running past him, slamming into Byers and spinning him around. Wasn’t he just helping Nancy cheat on this guy? How can they just—

All his thoughts screech to a halt as soon as Byers takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him.

And keeps kissing him.

And Steve, King Steve, definitely not gay Steve, kisses back. Full on holding him by the waist, pulling him in until their entire bodies line up. As if letting go would make Byers disappear in a nice little poof of smoke.

Wow, Eddie thinks deliriously, holding onto the porch for dear life. These painkillers are no joke.

Nancy comes out of the car next, beaming as her boyfriend makes out with a man right in front of her. A man she was clearly cheating on her boyfriend with.

Unless he’s not actually her boyfriend. Is she a beard? Is she bearding Jonathan? Is Steve cheating on Jonathan with his beard?

He’s starting to think he’s missing a few pieces to this puzzle.

“Um.”

The two lovebirds break apart, and all three of them fix Eddie with a wary look as they register the fact that yes, he is standing there and has been the whole time, thank you very much. Byers is holding Steve’s hand like a challenge, glaring at Eddie like he’s daring him to say something. As if Eddie isn’t the gayest motherfucker in Hawkins.

“Right,” Steve coughs. “Jonathan, this is Eddie. He’s cool, he saved Dustin’s life. Eddie, this is Jonathan. My…uh. My boyfriend.”

Eddie stares. Nancy comes up and takes Jonathan’s other hand. “Our boyfriend,” she corrects. “We’re together. All three of us.”

“Oh,” he says. This is awkward. This is so awkward, Eddie can feel the trees wilting in embarrassment for him. Maybe if he’s lucky it’ll turn out he’s standing in quicksand or another portal will open up beneath his feet and he won’t have to deal with this awkwardness anymore.

Steve likes boys. Good! Great! It would be fucking amazing if he didn’t apparently have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is standing there in the flesh, silently giving Eddie the biggest stink eye of his life like he’s ready to throw down if he says the wrong this and oh God Eddie still hasn’t said anything-

“Congrats?”

Byers blinks. “Congrats?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie says, as if he wasn’t just trying to get Nancy to break this dude's heart for Steve like two days ago. God, that’s so embarrassing. They’re already together. “You’ve got pretty good taste. Your charisma stats must be off the roof.”

If he remembers anything from high school that’s definitely a lie, but a little flattery never hurt anyone.

Steve barks out a laugh, Nancy rolls her eyes, and Byers stares at him like he’s grown two new heads. “You’re Eddie,” he says, sounding it out.

Eddie spreads his arms. “In the flesh. Well, mostly. I’m missing some chunks of it.”

“DND Eddie? From Hellfire?”

“Did they not tell you anything? Harsh, Wheeler. I thought you liked me.”

“Wrong Wheeler,” Byers says. “Mike wouldn’t shut up about you. Two days straight in a pizza van after we got the news of what you’d done, and I was ready to rip my hair out.”

Aww, that’s cute. He honestly likes the kid, even though Dustin has been thrust firmly into the “favorite” category, on the basis of nearly dying in his arms and probably traumatizing the kid forever. He’s glad the sentiment is returned.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Steve snorts as he starts dragging his partners towards the cabin. “Did you notice he only started growing his hair out after he met Eddie?”

“Wait, really?” Eddie asks as Steve snags him by the wrist and pushes him in front. Like a long, awkward, queer train. Is Nancy queer? Can he ask? Are they at that stage in their friendship? Does that come before or after fighting monsters together?

Nancy laughs harder than he knew she was capable of. “Oh my god, he did! I didn’t even realize!”

“Uh, yeah, because you didn’t have to hear day in and day out from that little shit how much cooler he is than me. Dude, did you know they thought you were scary? You?”

Eddie’s touched, honestly. He put a lot of work into terrifying the masses. “I am scary,” he says. “I fucking shredded along to Metallica to stop a demon from killing us all. I’m more metal than I ever was.”

“Yeah but you’ve also got those, like, doe eyes, man.” Steve waves a hand as if he’s not making every wire in Eddie’s brain short circuit, and tugs them all down on the couch.

“I have what now?”

Nancy giggles, leaning around her boyfriends to try and poke his cheek. He snaps his teeth at her.

“Don’t you know? Steve’s weak to big, soulful eyes,” she says, batting her own eyes in emphasis. Byers rolls his, which are also big and brown and kind of wet, now that Eddie’s paying attention.

“Nancy,” Steve whines, “don’t tell him that!”

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, grinning as she practically sits in Byers’s lap to give Steve a peck. He watches them with the kind of fondness that Eddie’s always kind of dreamed of having directed at him, and it punches deep.

So Steve isn’t cheating on anyone and probably never will, which is a relief and also a bummer to some of the more pathetic fantasies he’s whipped up in the past few days trapped in this cabin. He likes Nancy too much to ever actually get in the way of her true love, but it doesn’t hurt to dream.

“Yeah, okay, I have big ol’ Bambi eyes or whatever. You wanna talk kiddie crushes and hero worship, how about Sinclair?”

“What about him?” Steve asks, apparently oblivious.

“Uh, how about the whole basketball thing?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “He loves basketball!” He protests. “He asked me to practice with him when he first started thinking about joining the team, we still go out and play sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie says. “And how about the time I said something about your fight with Hargrove, and he jumped to your defense even faster than Dustin could about how badass and cool and handsome you were?”

“There’s no way he said that,” he says, turning bright red. “There’s—no. Billy was going to hurt him, he was, like, fucking twelve or something, I couldn’t just…he didn’t say that.”

“Might as well have. That entire speech had me clocking the kid faster than you can say ‘touchdown.’”

“That’s football.”

“I’ll tell you what he’d like to ball—“ he starts, and Steve screeches.

“Shut up, shut up, don’t say that! He’s a baby, what is wrong with you—“

“That ‘baby’ already experienced his first hangover, mom. Time for little birdies to leave the nest.”

“You calling me mom makes it so much worse,” Steve tells him. “I should have left you to rot.”

“Probably!” He says brightly. “But that doesn’t stop the fact that Sinclair has a crush on you the size of Texas.”

“Jonathan,” Steve whines, burying his face in his hands, “make him stop.”

Byers pats Steve’s shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry, man, I thought you knew.”

“It was kind of obvious, Steve,” Nancy agrees. “He does ask to play basketball a lot. Especially on hot days.”

“What does the weather have to do with anything?”

“Shorts,” Nancy and Jonathan say together.

“How short?” Eddie asks. He should probably think about switching pockets, if he’s turned into this much of a masochist.

“So short,” Nancy says. “And he usually takes his shirt off halfway in, when he’s all sweaty.”

“Jesus, no fucking wonder. And he can’t blush either, can he? I’m starting to think he’s the smartest of the bunch.”

“Well, Byers?” Eddie spreads his arms, ignoring the trepidation in his gut. “Am I everything you expected?”

Byers tilts his head, looks at him with a gaze that could cut through bone. Eddie has a feeling the guy is finding out what every single one of his organs looks like, and he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

Finally he gives a sharp nod, like he’s decided something.

“I think if you stick around, the three of us are going to have to have a repeat of that conversation we had when I went to California,” he says, as if Eddie should know what the fuck that means. “You’re cool, man. Call me Jonathan.”

He blinks, mouth half open, and Byers’s-Jonathan’s mouth quirks.

“Conversation about what?”

Byers hums noncommittally, because apparently their entire trio is bent on making Eddie’s sanity take a jump off the quarry. “A lot of things,” he sighs, and sends Eddie a wry little smile. “I haven’t exactly been a very good boyfriend lately.”

Eddie’s feeling magimous enough to be honest. “They think the world of you, man. I heard them talking about you. They…shit, they really love you, you know that? I think you’re gonna be okay.”

#ot4 stoncy+steddie #sorry for the ronance bait but actually robin is just taking one for the team #steve would ABSOLUTELY spin jonathan around like a romance movie try and tell me otherwise #this can be read as jargyle as well sorry my man isn't in here he's busy doing hot girl shit #(calling suzie 'sally' in front of dustin for shits and giggles)#established stoncy+steddie au #stranger things fanfic #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #jonathan byers #steve harrington

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