#((I don't think I ever mentioned it but I decided to make him 23 in this verse))

[amethystarachnid]

Hello! Could I ask for Steve Rogers for your Marvel Christmas specials? Number 23 (Santa’s Little Helper  – You and your character end up volunteering together at a local holiday charity or helping out in a Christmas toy drive.) please.

I don't know why, but I think he's the perfect match for something like volunteering for charity, especially if it were for kids in need. Just some sweet sweet fluff, I know the kids would love to play around with him (climbing all over him y'know)

A PLACE TO STAY - part I

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, some angst, more fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k (I told you the fic wrote itself)

ᯓ★ Summary: Steve and y/n decide to buy some gifts for the kids in an orphanage, what they don't expect is to have a little girl attached to the hip. how will they leave now?

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abandonment and abandonment issues

ᯓ★ I'm so sorry I know you asked just fluff but I swear the fic wrote itself, and I will sure as hell write a second part where Steve and Y/n adopt Olivia because I'm crying.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The soft hum of Christmas music plays from the speaker tucked into the corner of your apartment, filling the room with warmth and a sense of the season. Outside, snow falls lazily, blanketing Brooklyn in a pristine sheet of white. Inside, the two of you are curled up on the couch, a fuzzy throw blanket draped over your legs and a half-empty mug of cocoa forgotten on the coffee table.

Steve’s arm is slung over your shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your upper arm through the fabric of your sweater. It’s a lazy December evening, the kind where the world feels a little slower, a little softer, and you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be than here, in this little pocket of warmth with him.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling, a touch of amusement in his tone as he looks down at you. You’re nestled against his side, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Mhm,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head. “I could stay like this forever.”

His chuckle vibrates through you, deep and rich. “Not a bad idea. We can hibernate till spring.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, catching the teasing glint in his blue eyes. His hair is slightly mussed, one of your favorite looks on him, and his sweater—a soft navy one you’d insisted he get because it matched his eyes—clings to him in a way that makes you want to tug him even closer.

“I think you’d get stir-crazy after a day,” you say, smiling. “You’re not built for sitting still, Rogers.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “But if I’ve got you here with me, I think I could manage.”

Your heart squeezes at the way he says it, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way Steve looks at you, like you’re the most important thing in the room, in his life. You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his temple.

“I love you,” you say softly.

He doesn’t answer right away; he never rushes when he looks at you like this, like he’s savoring every second of it. Then he smiles, that slow, sweet smile that makes your knees weak even when you’re sitting down. “I love you, too,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of it all—the faint crackle of the fireplace app on your TV, the weight of his arm around you, the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you both decorated a week ago. Then Steve shifts slightly, his hand moving from your arm to rest on your thigh, and you catch the thoughtful look in his eyes.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, tilting your head to study him.

He hesitates, which is rare for him. Steve’s always been the type to speak his mind, but you’ve learned that sometimes he takes his time when it’s something that really matters to him.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he says finally. “Something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, sitting up a little so you can face him better. “What is it?”

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing toward the window as if he’s searching for the right words. When he looks back at you, there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart ache a little.

“You know how much I love Christmas,” he begins, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And not just the lights and the music and all that. It’s always been about... giving back. Doing something meaningful.”

You nod, already feeling a warmth spread through you at the direction this is going. “That sounds like you,” you say, your smile matching his.

“Well,” he continues, his fingers brushing against yours, “I was thinking. This year, maybe we could do something together. Something for kids who don’t have as much. Like in orphanages, or shelters. We could bring them gifts, spend some time with them. Make their Christmas a little brighter.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes hold yours like this idea means the world to him. He’s always been like this—big heart, bigger dreams. And he’s always thinking about how to make the world a better place, one person at a time.

“That’s a beautiful idea, Steve,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Of course I’ll help. I’d love to.”

The way his face lights up is enough to make you forget the chill outside, forget everything but him. “You mean it?” he asks, like he can’t quite believe you’d say no but still needs to hear you confirm it.

“Of course,” you say, squeezing his hand. “We’ll make it happen. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his smile soft and grateful. Then he leans in, cupping your face with one hand as he kisses you. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl under the blanket and your heart feel like it’s trying to escape your chest.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can’t help but smile at how close he keeps you. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

“I try,” you tease, though your cheeks are warm from his words.

He laughs, a sound that feels like sunshine breaking through the snowstorm outside. “We’ll need to start planning soon,” he says. “I was thinking we could make it a mix of things—gifts, maybe some activities. And definitely food. Can’t forget the food.”

You nod along, already picturing the two of you wrapping presents and brainstorming ideas together. “Sounds perfect,” you say. “And you know I’m good with organizing stuff. Just tell me what you need.”

Steve’s grin widens, and he pulls you back against his chest, holding you close like he can’t quite let go yet. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asks, half to himself.

“You saved the world a couple of times,” you reply with a grin, earning another laugh from him.

“You make it sound so casual,” he says, shaking his head.

You just smile and settle back into his embrace, letting the warmth of him and the moment wrap around you like a second blanket. Outside, the snow keeps falling, and inside, you know this is going to be a Christmas to remember.

The following weekend, after a week of planning and buying supplies, you and Steve are seated together at the kitchen table in your Brooklyn apartment, an array of colorful gift bags, wrapping paper, and toys scattered around you. The room is cozy, the hum of the heater mingling with the faint sound of the radio playing a Christmas song. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere, warm and inviting, for the task you’ve set out to do.

You unwrap another toy—a little plush giraffe—and place it carefully into one of the gift bags. Steve does the same with a toy truck, grinning as he reads the label on the back. “I’m just saying, I’d be pretty excited if someone gave me one of these,” he says, giving the truck a little shake as though testing it out.

“You’re 100% a kid at heart,” you reply with a laugh. “But yeah, I think they’re going to love these.”

Steve shoots you a sideways glance, eyes glinting with mischief. “Are you calling me immature?”

“Not at all,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m just saying you’re very easy to shop for.”

He pretends to look hurt, dramatically clutching his chest. “Ouch, that cuts deep.”

You can’t help but giggle at his theatrics, your heart swelling as you watch him. You’ve always known Steve had a playful side, but it’s moments like this that remind you how much you love his ability to make even the most mundane tasks fun.

The two of you have spent the last few hours going through the kids’ wishlists, some of which were surprisingly simple, while others tugged at your heart. One little girl, age seven, asked for a "doll with long hair." Another boy, maybe around ten, wrote that he wanted "a toy airplane, but one that could fly like a real one." You’re constantly amazed by the purity of their wishes, the things they dream of that seem so small yet are filled with so much hope.

“That’s a pretty big ask for a toy airplane,” you say, looking over at Steve. “What do you think? Should we get him something that flies, or...?”

Steve rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Something that actually flies?” He grins at you, his eyes twinkling. “You know I’m always down for a challenge, but I think we should stick with something more realistic. How about a remote-controlled one? They’re fun, and it’s not like the kid’s asking for a jet.”

You nod, smiling at his practicality. “Good call. We’ll grab one of those.”

After a few more hours of sorting through toys, checking and double-checking the lists, you and Steve are finally finished. You stretch your arms over your head and look at the pile of wrapped gifts you’ve managed to create. It’s a satisfying sight—brightly colored paper, neat bows, and the satisfaction of knowing these toys are going to bring joy to kids who might otherwise go without.

“I think we’re done here,” you say, smiling at Steve, who is just finishing the last bit of wrapping on a small box.

“I think you’re right,” he says, glancing around at the festive chaos of wrapping supplies scattered across the table. “This is actually kind of fun. We should do this every year.”

You beam up at him. “Agreed. And next year, we’ll probably need a bigger table.”

After packing everything up into several large bags, Steve helps you load them into the back of his car. The trunk is already half-filled, and as you stand side by side, looking over the pile of gifts, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

You glance up at him, your smile softening. “Right back at you. You came up with this idea, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who made it happen,” he says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, his gaze soft as he studies you. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you forget about the gifts, the plans, everything except Steve’s presence. “I love you,” you whisper.

He smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I love you, too.”

The drive to the orphanage is peaceful, the streets of Brooklyn decorated with twinkling lights and signs of holiday cheer. You both chat about your plans for the rest of the day—maybe grab a coffee afterward, or walk around the city—but the closer you get to your destination, the more your thoughts turn to the kids and what they might be like. You wonder if they’ll be excited, nervous, or shy. It’s all a bit of an unknown, but you’re both determined to make it special for them, no matter what.

As you pull up to the orphanage, a large, older building with a faded red brick exterior, you can see children peeking out from behind the windows, their curious faces illuminated by the soft glow of the Christmas lights draped across the building. You grab the bags of gifts from the trunk, and Steve takes the lead, walking toward the entrance, holding the door open for you.

The building’s interior is warm, with a low hum of activity—kids running around, laughing, some playing with older toys, others reading books in the corner. You both stand in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.

A woman who must be one of the caretakers approaches, her face lighting up as she sees you both. “You must be Mr. Rogers and Miss Y/n,” she says warmly. “Thank you so much for coming. The kids are going to be so excited!”

Steve smiles, a little bashful as always, but his voice is confident. “We’re happy to be here. We’ve got lots of gifts for them.”

The caretaker’s eyes flicker between you and Steve, and you can see a hint of surprise, though she hides it quickly. “It’s really kind of you,” she says. “We don’t get many visitors, especially not ones with such... generous hearts.”

“We’re just glad to help,” you reply with a smile, adjusting the strap of your bag.

With the gifts handed off to the staff, you’re introduced to the children. There are a lot of them—some shy, others enthusiastic, but all of them curious about the strangers in their midst. You and Steve work together to hand out the presents, and there’s something magical about seeing the kids’ faces light up as they unwrap their gifts. A shy little girl squeals in delight as she pulls a stuffed unicorn from her gift bag, and a boy nearly trips over his feet in excitement as he gets his remote-controlled airplane. The joy in their eyes makes the whole experience worth it.

But there’s one little girl who stands out from the crowd.

She’s tiny, maybe three years old, with soft, curly brown hair and big, brown eyes that never seem to leave you. She’s holding a teddy bear close to her chest, and when you kneel down to give her a gift, her gaze flickers between you and Steve, her lip trembling.

“Hi there,” you say softly, offering her a brightly wrapped present. “This is for you.”

Her eyes widen as she takes it, clinging to her teddy bear with one hand while carefully unwrapping the paper. You watch her closely, noticing how she seems a little unsure of everything—her speech not quite clear as she murmurs something unintelligible under her breath. You don’t mind, though. You’re in no rush. You’re here for her, for all of them.

Steve squats down beside you, his large hand hovering just above her shoulder in a quiet show of reassurance. “What’s your name, little one?” he asks gently.

The girl looks up at him, her eyes wide as she shifts her gaze from you to him. After a beat, she gives a little shrug, her brow furrowing as if she’s unsure how to respond. You smile softly and tilt your head toward her.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice gentle and soothing. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But we’re really happy you’re here.”

Her eyes stay fixed on you, still uncertain but drawn to the calmness in your voice. She pulls the ribbon off her gift, her tiny fingers fumbling with it for a moment before she manages to untie it, revealing a small, colorful doll.

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and she looks up at you, her eyes a little brighter. Her voice is soft, but you can just make out the words she stumbles through. “Doll... for me?”

You nod, your heart swelling. “Yes, sweetheart. That one’s all for you.”

She hugs it close to her chest, glancing back and forth between you and Steve, before shyly reaching out for your hand. You gently take it, your heart swelling at the small but trusting gesture. She might be too shy to speak much, but her little hand in yours speaks volumes.

Steve’s gaze softens as he watches the interaction, his hand resting lightly on her head. “She’s got a good grip for someone so little,” he murmurs.

You nod, smiling at the way the little girl is clinging to you, her eyes softening as she curls into your side. “She’s a sweet one,” you say, your voice low as you kneel down beside her, letting her feel safe and calm in your presence.

As the day goes on, the room fills with more laughter and joy, and the connection with the children deepens. But it’s this little girl, the one so small and yet so full of trust, who tugs most at your heartstrings. She doesn’t speak much, but when she reaches for you or Steve, you know she’s found a quiet comfort in both of you.

The morning slips by in a flurry of laughter, bright eyes, and the shuffle of little feet. The toys you and Steve brought are scattered all around the orphanage’s common room, and the kids are absolutely absorbed in them—trucks zooming across the floor, dolls being tucked into makeshift beds, and a few kids giggling as they watch the remote-controlled airplane soar through the air.

Steve, of course, is in his element, kneeling down beside the boys to help them maneuver their toy trucks. The grin on his face is enough to make anyone believe he’s reliving his own childhood. You can’t help but watch him, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you at the sight of him. He’s so good with the kids, so patient, so kind. He’s always been a hero, but in moments like this, you see him in a new light—he’s not just Captain America; he’s just a man who wants to make the world better, one small moment at a time.

As he engages with the boys, you turn your attention back to the little girl who’s been quietly following you. She’s still clutching her doll close to her chest, her eyes a little unsure, but there’s something in the way she watches you—something soft, something tentative, that tells you she’s starting to feel a little less guarded. You smile gently, crouching down to her level, and the moment your eyes meet, she ducks her head shyly, clutching her doll even tighter.

“Hey there,” you say softly, trying to coax her out of her shell. “You like your new doll?”

She looks up at you then, her dark eyes wide, as if she’s not quite sure what to make of your question. Slowly, she nods, her gaze flickering between you and the doll. Her little fingers run over the fabric of its dress as she hugs it to her chest.

“Pretty,” she murmurs in a soft, childlike voice, the words almost too quiet to hear.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at the sound of her voice. “Yeah, she’s pretty. Just like you.”

The girl doesn’t respond, but she looks up at you again, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles. It’s enough to make you feel like you’ve won a small victory. The quiet way she’s speaking, the way she’s reaching out to you, is a sign that she’s starting to trust you, even if only a little.

You reach out slowly, letting her take her time. “Do you want me to hold her for a while?”

The girl hesitates, looking down at the doll and then back at you. Slowly, she reaches out and hands you the doll, her fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, but it means so much to you. You cradle the doll in your arms, and for the first time, the little girl seems to relax a little, stepping a fraction closer to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of quiet admiration for how brave she’s being.

Just as you’re about to say something else, a loud burst of laughter rings out across the room, and you turn to see Steve kneeling on the floor with the older boys, showing them how to make the remote-controlled airplane do loops in the air. One of the boys is cheering, clapping his hands in excitement, while the others are watching with wide eyes.

The sight of Steve interacting with the other children seems to pull your attention away for just a moment, and when you glance back at the little girl, you’re surprised to find her standing right next to you, her gaze fixed on Steve with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

“Steve’s fun,” you say, offering her a gentle smile. “He’s really good at playing.”

The girl looks up at you with a small frown, still holding onto her doll but inching closer to you. “Steve?” she repeats softly, as if testing the name on her lips.

“Yeah, Steve,” you affirm, your voice gentle. “He’s a good friend.”

Her gaze flickers toward Steve, who’s still helping the kids with their toys. His laughter rings out, so easy and light, and the girl takes another step closer to you, her fingers tentatively reaching for your hand. You smile softly, taking her hand in yours.

“That’s Steve,” you say again, nodding toward him. “He’s nice.”

At first, the girl hesitates, but after a few moments, she seems to relax a little, still clinging to you, but her eyes on Steve now. It’s like she’s testing him in her own way, trying to decide if she can trust him, too.

“Play?” she asks in a tiny voice, pointing toward Steve. Her words are still so soft, and her speech is still uncertain, like she’s not yet comfortable with the world around her. But there’s an openness in her that makes your heart ache a little.

“Do you want to go play with him?” you ask, kneeling down to her level again. “You can. I bet he’d love to play with you.”

The little girl looks at you, and for a long moment, it seems like she’s not sure. But then, she takes another step closer to Steve, her doll still firmly clutched to her chest. You watch her with a quiet sense of hope, feeling your heart swell with the tiniest bit of pride. She’s trusting you. And now, it seems like she’s starting to trust Steve, too.

Steve catches sight of her moving toward him and offers a warm smile. “Hey there, little one,” he greets her softly. “You want to play with us?”

The girl looks at him for a moment, her eyes still uncertain, but she nods slowly, taking another cautious step toward him. Her tiny hand reaches for his, and Steve gently takes it, kneeling down so he’s at her level.

“Want to fly the airplane with me?” he asks in a calm, kind voice.

The girl looks at the airplane, her gaze lighting up for just a moment before she looks back at you. She’s still holding onto her doll, but she’s looking at Steve now, waiting for his next move.

“It’s really easy,” Steve continues, gently guiding her to sit beside him. “You just press the button here, like this.” He presses a button on the remote, and the airplane zooms into the air.

The girl watches, eyes wide with awe. She turns to you, her gaze searching for approval.

“It’s safe,” you assure her with a smile. “Steve’s really good at it. You can try it, if you want.”

After a long pause, she turns back to Steve, a little more confident now. “Try?” she asks, her voice a little stronger this time.

“You bet,” Steve says, his voice full of encouragement. “I’ll show you how. Just press this button.”

With a tentative hand, the girl reaches out, her tiny fingers brushing the remote. Steve guides her hand gently, and when the airplane soars into the air again, her face lights up with joy.

You watch the interaction with a quiet sense of happiness, but at the same time, there’s something pulling at your heart. The little girl is so small, so fragile, and yet she’s starting to trust not only you but Steve as well. It’s like she’s blossoming before your eyes, and it feels like a privilege to witness it.

But as the day goes on, a small pang of worry starts to creep into the back of your mind. You know how these moments go. You know that sometimes, when kids get attached, it can be hard for them to understand why people leave.

As you’re helping a few of the younger children color pictures, one of the caretakers—an older woman with kind eyes—approaches you. She’s got a solemn expression on her face as she quietly pulls you aside. Steve’s still busy with the other kids, so he doesn’t notice the exchange.

“Miss Y/n, Mr. Rogers,” she begins, her voice low and cautious. “I’m so grateful for the gifts and for everything you’ve done for these children today, but… there’s something you should know about the little girl who’s been sticking to you.”

Your stomach tightens. “What’s wrong?”

The caretaker looks over at the little girl, who’s still playing with Steve, her focus entirely on the remote-controlled airplane. “Her name is Olivia,” she says quietly. “She’s been here since she was about one, and… well, she’s had a hard time with attachments.”

Your heart sinks a little. You try to keep your voice calm. “What do you mean?”

The caretaker hesitates for a moment, glancing at the girl again. “She was abandoned. Left at the hospital when she was a baby. And ever since, she’s had a difficult time trusting people. She gets attached easily, but when people leave her, she—” The woman trails off, clearly not wanting to say it out loud.

When she speaks again, it’s with a quiet sense of warning. “She’s just starting to open up to you two. But if she gets too attached, if she starts to think of you as her… family, it could break her when you leave.”

You look at the little girl—Olivia—playing with Steve. She’s so innocent, so sweet, and the idea of her being hurt is almost unbearable.

“I understand,” you say softly, feeling a knot form in your throat. “We’ll be careful.”

But as you glance back at Olivia, sitting on Steve’s knee, her eyes wide with wonder, you know that it’s already too late. She’s already attached to you both in a way that no one can truly predict, and as much as you want to protect her, you know there’s nothing you can do to stop the inevitable heartbreak. The heartache that will come when she realizes you’re not staying.

And yet, despite the warning, despite the ache in your chest, you find yourself taking another step toward her, watching her smile up at Steve, her tiny hand resting in his. Some part of you knows that whatever happens, whatever heartbreak comes next, this moment, this tiny piece of joy, is worth everything.

As the day continues, the laughter and excitement in the orphanage grow louder, the sound of children’s voices mingling with the cheerful chime of Christmas music in the background. The toy airplane flies through the air again, spinning in dizzying loops, and Steve’s gentle voice guides Olivia’s small hands as she tries to control it, her grip still unsure but filled with an eagerness to learn.

You watch the two of them from the corner of the room, your heart swelling as you see how Steve is patiently showing Olivia how to work the controls, guiding her small hands with the same careful attention he always gives everyone. Olivia, in turn, seems captivated, her wide eyes focused solely on the airplane as it soars and dips. She lets out a small giggle when it flies low, and you can see a flicker of something like trust beginning to settle in her features.

A soft pull at your sleeve draws your attention, and you turn to find Olivia standing right beside you again, her big brown eyes wide and expectant.

“Y/n,” she says in a soft voice, and the way she says your name makes your heart ache. It’s still so fragile, so tentative, but there’s a quiet confidence behind it. “Pick up?”

You blink, surprised. For most of the day, Olivia has been content to stay a few steps away, observing, watching as you and Steve interacted with the other children. She hadn’t made any real attempt to get closer to either of you, and the fact that she was now reaching out in this way is a small but significant shift. Your chest tightens as you realize what this means.

“You want me to hold you?” you ask, your voice soft and full of tenderness.

Olivia nods, her tiny hands reaching up toward you, and there’s a quiet plea in her eyes—one that says she’s seeking comfort, seeking warmth in the middle of the excitement, something that’s just for her.

Without hesitation, you bend down, scooping her up gently, being careful not to disturb the doll she’s still clutching. Her tiny body relaxes as she’s lifted into your arms, and she nuzzles against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. You feel the weight of her trust settle in your arms, and for a moment, you close your eyes, savoring the feeling. She’s so small, so fragile, and yet she has placed her trust in you so completely.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you hold her close.

She responds with a soft, contented hum, her little hand wrapping around your neck, clinging to you as if she’s afraid you might disappear. You tighten your hold on her, making sure she feels safe in your embrace.

From across the room, Steve watches the two of you, a soft smile on his lips as he continues to play with the other children. But his gaze flickers back to Olivia now and then, his protective instincts flaring in ways you can only imagine.

You shift slightly, carrying Olivia toward the group of kids Steve is playing with. As you approach, Steve looks up and gives you a quiet nod, his smile widening when he sees how Olivia has settled into your arms.

“She’s getting more comfortable, huh?” Steve says, his voice soft, but there’s a hint of both pride and concern in it.

“Yeah,” you reply, your tone full of quiet wonder. “She really is.”

Olivia doesn’t say anything, but her fingers curl around your shirt, her head still resting on your shoulder. It’s as if she’s found a place she can finally feel safe—something that, up until now, might have felt impossible for her. There’s something in the way she’s clinging to you that makes your heart ache with a mixture of love and fear. She’s so little, and the world can be so big and unpredictable, but right now, in this moment, she’s holding on to you with everything she’s got.

Steve moves closer, kneeling down to be at her eye level. He reaches out a hand, gentle and steady. “Olivia,” he says softly, his voice full of warmth. “You want to play some more? We’ve got a lot of fun toys.”

Olivia looks up at him with big eyes, her small face still somewhat wary. For a moment, she seems unsure. But then, she surprises you both by shifting her little body in your arms and turning toward Steve. There’s a softness in her gaze now, a hesitant trust that wasn’t there before.

��Play,” she says in that tiny voice, her words still so soft but filled with a quiet determination.

You let out a small breath of relief, your grip on her loosening just enough for her to be able to step away from you. But even as she moves toward Steve, she reaches back for you with a small, almost imperceptible gesture. Her fingers brush yours, seeking that connection.

You smile, touching her hand briefly before letting her go to Steve. It’s a small step, but it’s one that means everything.

Steve, ever the patient one, offers his hand to Olivia, guiding her toward a small table where the other kids are building with blocks. As he walks with her, his smile never fades, even as she seems to shy away slightly from the other children. He gives her space, letting her explore on her own terms.

“You wanna help me build a tower?” Steve asks her, his voice warm and encouraging.

Olivia looks up at him, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Tower?” she repeats, sounding out the word carefully.

“Yeah, a big one,” Steve affirms. “I think you’re gonna be great at it.”

She nods, her focus now entirely on the colorful blocks in front of her. She picks one up carefully, turning it over in her small hands. You watch her from where you’re standing, a quiet sense of pride swelling in your chest. This little girl, who had been so withdrawn just hours ago, is now actively participating, engaging with the world around her.

As you step back, you join the other children who are sitting on the floor, coloring pictures or playing with dolls. You try to keep an eye on Olivia without hovering too closely, giving her the space she needs to grow and trust on her own terms. It’s not easy, though, because your heart keeps pulling you back to her. You can’t help but worry about her, about what’s going to happen when the day comes to an end and you both have to leave.

For now, though, you try to focus on the present. The kids around you are still deep in their own activities, and there’s a sense of joy in the room, one that you can feel radiating from them. It’s infectious, this energy, and it makes you grateful for the opportunity to spend this time with them, to give them a small piece of happiness.

Olivia, it seems, is growing more comfortable with Steve. She’s fully immersed in building a tower now, and when she picks up another block, she looks up at him for reassurance. “More?” she asks, and Steve chuckles, nodding.

“Of course, more. We’ll make it the biggest tower ever.”

Her eyes light up, and she enthusiastically starts stacking more blocks, the tower growing taller and taller with each passing moment. Steve doesn’t rush her, doesn’t push her to go faster. He simply watches her, offering encouragement when needed, making sure she feels proud of every little step she takes.

The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the orphanage as the day winds down. The cheerful chaos of children’s laughter and playful chatter starts to quiet, the toys being gathered up, the Christmas music fading to a gentle hum in the background. The once-bright room is now filled with a soft, melancholy glow, signaling the end of the day.

You can’t help but feel the bittersweetness of it all. The day has been filled with so much joy—so many smiles, so much laughter. And yet, as the clock ticks on and the children begin to gather their things, a heavy weight settles in your chest. You know what’s coming. You know that the moment you and Steve walk out the door, you’ll be leaving behind a part of yourself, a piece of your heart, with these children, especially with Olivia.

As you stand near the door, watching as the children slowly start to gather their jackets and shoes, your gaze drifts to Olivia. She’s standing near the coat rack, her tiny hands reaching for her jacket with the same determination you’ve seen in her all day. Her wide, trusting eyes are fixed on you, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Steve is at your side, his expression equally heavy, his hand resting on your shoulder as you both watch the little girl from a distance.

“I think she’s getting ready to leave with us,” you whisper, your heart aching as you see Olivia struggling to put on her coat, her movements clumsy, her tiny fingers fumbling with the buttons. It’s like she’s already made up her mind that you’re going to take her home with you.

“Yeah,” Steve replies quietly, his voice rough, filled with a quiet pain that mirrors your own. “She’s really attached.”

You take a deep breath, but it feels like there’s a lump lodged in your throat. The promise you’d made to her—to come back and see her again—feels almost impossible in this moment. How can you leave a little girl who’s already started to trust you, to care for you, when all she wants is to stay with you?

Slowly, you step toward her, trying to keep the tears at bay. Olivia has finally managed to get her jacket on, and now she’s walking toward you, her small legs moving with a determined little waddle. When she reaches you, she lifts her arms up, holding her jacket out to you with a hopeful look on her face.

“Go now?” she asks, her voice small but insistent, her lips trembling with the effort of saying the words.

You kneel down to her level, your heart hammering in your chest. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her eyes. “Olivia, sweetheart,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “we can’t take you with us right now.”

Olivia blinks up at you, her eyes wide and confused. “But go now?” she repeats, her little hands clutching at her jacket, her expression one of complete innocence and trust.

Steve crouches down next to you, his own heart breaking as he reaches out to gently rest a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, we can’t take you home with us today,” he says gently, his voice full of warmth but tinged with sorrow. “You have to stay here for now. But we promise we’ll come back. We’ll see you again soon, okay?”

The words come out easily, but the promise feels like it’s weighing a ton on your heart. You know she doesn’t fully understand, not in the way an adult would, but she’s heard the word "promise" before, and she’s holding on to it as though it’s the most important thing in the world. Her face scrunches up, and her small lips tremble.

“No,” she says, shaking her head frantically. “Stay with you. Please.”

Your heart cracks at the desperation in her voice, at the sheer helplessness in her small form. You reach out, wrapping your arms around her in a gentle embrace, holding her close as her body trembles in your arms.

“Oh, baby, I wish we could,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I really do.”

Olivia clings to you, her little arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug, as though she’s trying to hold on to you for dear life. The small, helpless sob that escapes her lips pierces your heart, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to break. You rub her back gently, trying to soothe her, trying to tell her everything’s going to be okay.

But it’s not okay. It’s not okay for her. Not when she’s so desperate for love, for safety, for someone to hold her and take her home. The tears in her eyes are a reflection of all the things she’s been through, all the abandonment, the fear, the loneliness. And now, she’s finally found something she can hold on to, someone who loves her, even if just for a short while. And the idea of losing that… of losing you… is too much for her to bear.

“Please,” she whispers again, her voice cracking as she pulls away slightly, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

You feel your own tears begin to fall, and you quickly swipe them away, trying to be strong for her. “Olivia, we’ll come back,” you promise again, your voice breaking slightly. “We’ll come back and see you. We won’t forget about you, okay?”

But even as the words leave your lips, you can see the doubt in her eyes. She’s been abandoned before, left alone by the people who were supposed to take care of her. Your promise feels like just another thing she’s heard before, another empty promise that’s been broken. And that realization, the understanding that she’s already been through so much and still doesn’t trust that anyone will come back for her, makes your heart break even more.

Steve kneels down beside the two of you, and for a moment, he doesn’t speak. His hand rests on Olivia’s back, and his eyes are filled with the same sorrow that you’re feeling. He doesn’t know how to fix this, how to ease her pain. All he can do is be here, offering her comfort, offering her warmth in this moment.

“I know it’s hard,” Steve says softly, his voice filled with quiet tenderness. “But we’ll come back. We’ll be here again, and we’ll make sure you’re okay. You’re not alone, Olivia.”

But the little girl doesn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she pulls away from you completely, her small hands pushing against your chest as she backs away, her sobs growing louder.

“No, no!” she cries, her voice shaking with the force of her emotion. “I want to go with you!”

The sound of her tears rips through you like a blade, and you’re not sure how to react. You want to hold her, to comfort her, to make everything okay, but you know that this is a hurt you can’t fix. Not right now. Not in this moment.

Steve stands up, his hand reaching for you as he gives Olivia one last, long look. You see the same look in his eyes—one of helplessness, one of sorrow. You know he’s feeling the same thing you are: the ache of leaving this sweet, innocent little girl who’s finally found something to hold on to.

“We’ll be back, Olivia,” you say one last time, your voice breaking. “I promise.”

The words sound hollow even to you, and you know that the moment you leave, she won’t understand. You can only hope that in time, the promise will mean something to her.

With a heavy heart, you turn away from Olivia, feeling as if you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind. Steve follows you, his hand brushing against your back as you both make your way to the door.

The sound of Olivia’s sobs follows you all the way to the exit, echoing in your ears as you step out of the orphanage. And with every step, it feels as though your heart is breaking just a little bit more.

When you finally get to the apartment, the silence feels deafening. The weight of the day, the weight of Olivia’s tears, is still heavy in the air. You try to focus on something else, anything else, but all you can think about is the little girl you had to leave behind. The little girl who just wanted to be loved.

You sit down on the couch, your hands shaking as you remove your coat, and Steve follows you, sitting beside you, but there’s a coldness in the room now, an emptiness that wasn’t there before. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you try to hold them back, but the weight of it all is too much.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears finally fall.

Steve pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you as you bury your face in his chest. His hand strokes your hair gently, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. There’s nothing to say, really. The pain is too raw, too fresh.

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “I know. It’s hard. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this either.”

But as you hold each other, you know there’s nothing else to do except try to keep your promise. To keep coming back. To keep showing up for Olivia, even if it means facing this heartbreaking reality every time.

For now, though, you let the tears come. And when you close your eyes, you can still see Olivia’s face, the way she cried, the way she reached for you, and you know, deep down, that she’ll stay with you in your heart. Forever.

The days following that heart-wrenching goodbye at the orphanage were difficult, but in a way, they also brought a sense of purpose. After the promise to Olivia, you and Steve began returning to the orphanage as often as you could, every other day, just as you’d said you would. It wasn’t always easy to make time for those visits, but seeing Olivia’s face light up the moment she saw you both made everything worth it.

Each visit began to feel like part of your routine. The orphanage became a second home of sorts. You and Steve would walk through the doors, already expecting to be met by the eager eyes of the other children. But it was Olivia who always sought you out first, her face breaking into a wide, joyful smile the moment she spotted you.

“Y/n! Steve!” she would call, running to meet you with her arms wide open. The joy in her voice was unmistakable, the sparkle in her eyes shining as brightly as the Christmas lights still twinkling above the doors.

Every time you saw her, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. She was growing more comfortable with you both, more trusting. You would spend hours with her, building towers, drawing pictures, playing with the toys you’d brought, anything that made her happy. And in return, her love for you both seemed to deepen with each passing visit.

There was something undeniably special about Olivia—something that pulled you in every time you saw her. The way she would snuggle into your arms for comfort, the way she’d tug on Steve’s sleeve when she needed help, and the way her face would light up when either of you showed her affection. She had an innocence that you couldn’t help but protect, something about her that made you feel like she deserved all the love the world could give.

One afternoon, as you and Steve walked into the orphanage, you immediately spotted Olivia sitting on the floor, playing with a puzzle. She looked up when she heard your footsteps, and her face broke into a delighted grin.

“Y/n! Steve!” she called excitedly, rushing over to you both. Her little arms stretched wide, and you both knelt down to meet her, your arms open as she threw herself into your embrace.

It had become a comforting routine. Every time you walked in, the other children would eagerly welcome you, but it was always Olivia who seemed to run to you the fastest, her need for connection clear.

You and Steve made it a point to always be there, every other day. Sometimes, you’d bring toys, other times you’d just spend time with her—drawing, building things, or even just sitting and watching her play. It felt like the more time you spent with her, the more you understood her. The more you could see the layers of hurt and fear in her small eyes, but also the joy and hope that began to bloom in her as she spent time with you.

She had learned to trust you. And you had learned to love her.

One of those days, after spending the afternoon together, you and Steve walked with Olivia as she held your hand tightly, her small fingers curling around yours with a confidence she hadn’t had when you first met her.

“Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?” you asked her gently, your voice soft as you knelt down beside her.

She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up. “Home!” she repeated, the word a simple declaration that seemed to hold all the hopes and dreams of a little girl who had never truly known what it was like to have a place to call her own.

And in that moment, it hit you—the weight of it all. The idea that Olivia was waiting for someone to take her home. To give her a real family. You hadn’t expected it, but you had grown attached to her, deeply and irrevocably. The thought of her leaving the orphanage, of her being taken away by someone else, made your heart ache in a way you didn’t fully understand.

You looked at Steve, your heart in your throat. He was watching Olivia too, his eyes filled with the same love and tenderness that you felt for her.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your hand brushing against his.

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Olivia. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t know. I feel like we’re doing the right thing. Being here for her.”

You didn’t need to say anything more. You both knew what you meant.

The visits continued. Every other day, you found yourselves back in that small, brightly lit room with Olivia, spending hours just playing and talking with her. She was growing so much, and you could see the progress in her. She had become more confident, more comfortable. And every time you saw her face light up with that smile, you couldn’t help but think about her future.

As the weeks passed, you and Steve found yourselves more and more immersed in the routine of visiting Olivia. The orphanage had become a place of warmth and hope. You both began to talk about her future more—what she needed, what she deserved. You both had formed such a deep bond with her, and yet there was a nagging feeling, a longing, that neither of you could ignore.

One evening, as the winter air settled over Brooklyn and the two of you sat on the couch in your apartment, a quiet moment of stillness passed between you. The Christmas lights twinkled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow across the room.

Steve was the first to break the silence.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice low and contemplative, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Olivia lately.”

You turned your head to look at him, your heart beating a little faster. His eyes were filled with the same seriousness that you’d seen before, but this time, there was something else there—an undercurrent of hope, a quiet kind of yearning.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot too. I think about her every day.”

Steve took a deep breath, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. “What do you think about… about becoming her parents?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you weren’t sure you heard him right. You looked at him, trying to read his face, searching for any sign that this wasn’t what it sounded like.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean… adopting her,” Steve said, his words slow but firm. “I can’t stop thinking about how much she needs us. How much she needs love. And I want to give that to her. I want to give her a family. I want to be her father. And I know… I know you’ve felt the same way about her.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. You had thought about it too, many times, but the reality of it, of truly becoming her parents, seemed so overwhelming. There were so many things to consider, so many uncertainties. But the thought of it—of giving Olivia a family, of offering her a real home—made your heart swell with an emotion you couldn’t describe.

“I… I do,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I love her, Steve. I love her like she’s my own. I just didn’t know if we could actually do it.”

Steve’s expression softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours. “I know it’s a big step. But I think we can do it. Together. We’ve already built such a bond with her. She trusts us. She’s already looking to us for that love and security. We can give her that. We can be her family.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him. You never imagined that this was where your life would lead—to a point where you could offer a child the one thing she needed most: love and stability. And yet, as you looked at Steve, you realized that it was the one thing you both were ready for. To build a life together, with Olivia at the center of it all.

“I want to do it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want to give her everything. I want to adopt her. I want to be her mom.”

Steve’s face lit up with the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of finality. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice soft, full of love and relief.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. “I’m sure, Steve.”

And in that moment, as you held each other close, everything else faded away. The doubts, the fears—they didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was the love you both had for Olivia, and the life you were about to build together.

“Yes,” you said again, more firmly this time. “I want to adopt Olivia.”

Steve pulled back, his eyes shining with happiness and gratitude. “We’re going to be her parents. I can’t wait to give her the family she deserves.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart full of hope. This was the beginning of something beautiful, something real. A family, a future—together. And you knew, with all your heart, that this was just the beginning of the rest of your lives.

[aspiringroleplays]

@atimelesslullaby

Sora couldn’t believe he was feeling this, but… he was actually feeling mad. Maybe it was because of that merchant that had set him off before, but when Zelda had explained to him about the “expectations” and “traditions” of this celebration, he was confused. And then irritated.

“But… it’s your birthday,” He argued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is supposed to be about you and what you want. Who cares what they think?”

He got it, he really did. He knew she had a duty to her kingdom and the people, and everyone wanted the chance to see and speak with her (let’s face it, he was no better. He wanted to hang around her too), but didn’t she deserve to have some time to herself? Shouldn’t she have some time to relax, and have fun, and speak with all her friends? Today, of all days, she should have been allowed to do what she really wanted to do. If this was some official holiday or the like, he wouldn’t have interfered, but...

She just… didn’t look like she was having any fun.

His ears alerted him to several people approaching him from behind, clearly intending to seek audience with her as well. He pursed his lips. No good. She’d never be able to get away at this rate.

“Hey,” He lowered his voice. “Make an exception for me.” He extended his gloved hand in clear invitation. “I promise I’ll make it fun. Just for a few minutes.”

He was determined to make her laugh, or at the very least smile a real smile, just once.

Out on the dance floor, he knew everyone’s eyes would be on him because, duh, he was dancing with the guest of honor. He knew no one actually cared about him- but they would definitely notice if he messed up.

‘Just don’t step on her feet,’ He told himself as they went into position. ‘Anything but that!’

So he decided to take just a few minutes to really feel the music and memorize the steps. Make sure that he got it right. He didn’t necessarily remember all the technical names of music, but he at least knew rhythm. So the first few rounds were slow, him occasionally glancing to the couples at the side as he checked his steps. Once he was confident, he relaxed, the easy smile belaying his relief. ‘Okay, I think I got it! Now then-’

In his world, the men always led in the dance. No matter the social status of the two parties involved, if music was involved, the men were expected to set the pace, and the women to keep up. That was an ironclad rule that he had learned. So naturally, he just assumed it was the same here. Mostly out of habit.

If it wasn’t? Well, he supposed he’d learn the hard way later.

He kept in time with the music, swaying and sweeping her about more confidently as he got comfortable. Kairi had always told him she enjoyed being swept around. She loved being lifted and spun and tossed, and Sora had just come to assume it was like that for all girls.

“Hey Zelda, you trust me, right?” He asked innocently, before flashing her a mischievous grin. “I’m gonna add a few things.”

But it was probably a good idea to at least warn her ahead of time. Kind of helped when the dance partner was at least cooperating.

He slowly extended the steps, carefully guiding them away from the few couples on the dance floor so he’d have a little more room. They’d have all the attention anyway, so there was no point in having discretion. He just wanted to be sure they didn’t run into anyone. And if anyone got mad about any “rules” being broken, well, he’d take the fall. He’d gladly get in trouble if it meant giving her a good time.

So he began to sweep her out to the side, releasing her waist to stretch her in a flourish. He clasped her again, then went back into the basic step pattern. A quick spin of his arm to give her a twirl. Lifting both arms to turn her about so they danced with her back flush against him. He never broke rhythm, and went right back in time with the basic steps, but he took a few liberties, adding a few moves to keep things interesting to keep her on her toes.

And, to hopefully, make her smile.

The truth was that there was a reason Sora had worked so hard in learning how to dance.

Growing up it wasn’t just a game for him. As he crushed on Kairi, deep down he had been wanting to do whatever it took to get her attention. Dancing, singing, romantic gestures and sweet conversation- he had done it all in the hopes of winning her heart. Riku was strong and fast and smart- Sora could never hope to beat him the usual ways. The best Sora could do was be “romantic”. In his quest to try to figure out “what girls liked” he had come to expect them himself. Romantic dates, meaningful outings and heartfelt gestures were all things he had unconsciously come to incorporate in all his “daydreams” of wooing a girl. Even after Kairi had turned him down, and he tried to look for love elsewhere, those same habits carried with him wherever he went. What would she like? What would make her swoon? What would capture her heart? He didn’t even think about it.

“Sora,” Kairi had said when he came to her, to stop him from agonizing so much. “Do you just want something for her birthday, or do you want to impress her?”

He’d been so mortified realizing he did it without thinking that he assured her this was just a birthday thing. Just a casual thing between friends. He didn’t have any personal feelings, really.

All the heroes of his childhood hadn’t just won their love interests with strength and brawn- but with heart too. Perhaps that was why Sora valued it so much, and saw it as important.

But whatever the case, this was how it was. And now…

‘It’s just a dance,’ he told himself, never letting his smile falter as he tried to cheer her up. ‘It doesn’t have to be romantic. We’re just friends. I’m just… trying to help her have fun.’

The problem was that for Sora, ballroom dancing was romantic. Normal dancing at a party, club, festival? Not an issue- that was for everyone! But royal, beautiful, ballroom dancing was different. Ever since he was a kid he associated it with romance. The music, the ambiance, the gentle touches, the close contact, her.

‘She really is beautiful.’ She had the most breathtaking eyes. They were almost… the same color he used to have. ‘It must be hard looking at my eyes.’ He thought wryly to himself, the shame making him break eye contact to look at her mouth instead. ‘They’re so weird now.’

He meant the way they were now stark yellow-gold, the mark of the dhampire. Not human in the least.

(And what he didn’t realize was that his outfit, while mostly blue, was lined with gold silk, and had the deep golden vest. It brought out the deeper gold tones of his eyes, something Kairi had realized and had been determined to do. Blue looked good with his skin and hair, and gold brought out his eyes. It was the perfect color combination for him. It was the real reason she had chosen this outfit for him. Despite how upset he was about his traits, she was determined to make him see the beauty in himself, even if other people had to tell him for her.)

His heart skipped a beat and swelled with emotion as they whirled around each other. The rush that came with the dancing was too much for his poor heart to stave back, the high that came from the excitement for the night making him truly feel like he was falling head over heels.

‘So this is what Prince Charming felt,’ Sora thought to himself, steeling himself to keep up his grin and make eye contact again. ‘It’s no wonder he searched the whole kingdom for her. I’d probably do the same.’

Just a simple dance, and his heart was absolutely convinced it had found his soul mate. Which, when he thought about it… was actually kind of strange.

‘Why don’t we react to each other?’ He thought distractedly, eyes flitting over her jewelry, and hair, and lips, like searching for an answer. ‘Is it actually because I’m from a different universe?’

He meant his demonic nature. If Kairi activated her holy powers, it triggered his traits. He had to physically fight them down to keep from losing control. And even normally, Kairi could still sense his non-human signature. That was part of the reason he had been a little worried when he first heard of Zelda’s status as a vessel of the goddess. Yet she never treated him with anything other than kindness, and truth be told, close proximity hadn’t even alerted him to her divine nature. Maybe Kairi was right- his “species” didn’t have any beef with the heavens of this universe… so maybe they didn’t care? Maybe the “divine” powers didn’t trigger him because the gods didn’t inherently hate him? It wasn’t like he was an “enemy” of the heavens if his kind didn’t technically exist here.

Was there a way to find out?

… without alerting Zelda?

He would have to find a way to look into it. There had to be some way to see if he’d be… safe… here...

His grin faltered as his heart fell. Oh. Right. Divinity or not, Sora still consumed blood to survive. No kingdom would tolerate that. Once the goddess found out, he was pretty sure she’d start sending whatever the “angel” equivalent was after him.

… he just really, really hoped it wasn’t Zelda that came after him personally. He didn’t think he’d be able to take that.

“Alright, up we go!” He chirped as they neared the end of the song. And that was all the warning Zelda got before he grasped her waist and lifted her up in the air in a spin. Normally the girl would need to jump to help the man, but, well, he had super strength, so who cared?

'Huh, she's heavier than she looks,' he noted as he plopped her back down. 'She must work out a lot.'

And of course, Sora being Sora, didn't stop to think how weird that was.

‘That’s my Sora!’ Kairi cheered to herself in approval, hands clasped together. ‘That’s how you win the heart of a princess!’

Listen, if it was between her “brother from another mother” and some stranger, she’d rather cheer for Sora. He was the sweetest person in the whole wide world, and he deserved to be happy! And who better than a perfect princess?

(Admittedly, Kairi might have been a little biased, given her love for them both. She didn’t believe him for an instant when he said there was “nothing” between the two of them.)

Honestly, the girl couldn't believe her luck. It was like a scene straight from a fairytale, and she was getting to witness it firsthand! A lovely princess with a dashing hero...

This time, as the song ended, Sora remembered he was supposed to bow to his partner, and he did so, only just now hearing all the murmurs from the onlookers. The hum was too much for him to filter through however, so he just ignored them. He was pretty sure they were all ho-humming his gall or whatever.

Actually, a lot of them were just trying to figure out how old he was. Hazards of having a permanent baby-face.

‘Sorry I can’t make this party better, Zelda,’ he thought to himself as he stood, though knew he couldn’t say that out loud. ‘But I hope you at least had a little bit of fun.’

He turned about, heading back to the sidelines, until he noticed the frantically waving arms of his best friend. He blinked at her in confusion, squinting as he focused his ears on her to figure out what she was desperately mouthing to him.

“Take her back!” She was saying in panic, and pointed to the side. “Take her back!”

He tilted his head in confusion, before following where she was pointing. Take her back-?

And then he saw the throne, it hit him, and he whirled around in alarm, red-faced. Oh shoot, shoot, shoot!

He took a long step forward, offering his arm, even as he looked away from clear embarrassment. “I’ll uh, take you back to your seat.”

Oops, in his casualness he had forgotten she was a princess. So much for finally getting the hang of this party.

[vi0let-writes]

Fight for you chapter one.

AFAB fem reader x Boxer Dilf Wriothesley

Boxing AU

Summary: Wriothesley is a well-known underground boxer, who for the first time decided to take his injury seriously and went to see the nurse. Once he met her, he kept finding excuses to visit.

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THIS CHAPTERS WARNINGS: Swearing, blood mention, injury.

Smau Masterlist

The atmosphere in the underground is always grim, and sweaty; but most of all, Loud. The underground is very popular for its Boxing, many people come to watch and bet on the fighters, and despite being well known, the authority does not do anything to stop it, so we shouldn't complain about its less than conditions. Anyway, today has gone on as normal, people fight, and I, the head nurse here, fixes up the stupid men and women who come down here for a slight chance of fame. Though my days are usually pretty much the same, today, for whatever reason, decided to be different, to give me a taste of something colorful.

.

.

.

“Damn Wriothesley, you got knocked up man.” someone said, as the rugged, black haired male walked past, shoulder slightly out of place and blood trickling out of his ear. Today was not a good day for said man, who happened to be one of the underground's top boxers. Wriothesley was a 25 year old Fontainian, who got most of his life earnings through boxing here in the underground, he was a tall, muscular, rugged looking man. He was tan, with lots of blemishes and scars littering his skin, dark black hair with hints of white to match his darker clothing choices.

“Man this fucking sucks.. Can not believe this happened.” He muttered, as he made his way to the nurse office, much to his ego's distaste. Wriothesley has never once gone to the nursery since he started his career here, which says a lot about the man's capability. He very much did not want to do this, but his arm hurt, and he didn't know what to do about the bleeding ear, so he went in.

The nursery was cleaner than most of the place, white beds neat and waiting to be used, shelves of cleaning supplies and medical equipment for the nurses to use. Wriothesley didn't mind the place, a nice change of scenery.

“May I help you?” A voice came, waking Wriothesley from his blank state of checking his surroundings. 

“Oh, uh yeah.. I think I dislocated my shoulder.. And uhm ear is bleeding.” He muttered out, looking at the pretty lady before him. Her hair.. Her eyes.. Man he was in a trance.

“Right this way then, I can help you with that. Mind telling me your name, and birthday on the way.” She asked, motioning for him to follow her, he nodded.

“Uh, Wriothesley, W-r-i-o-t-h-e-s-l-e-y, and date of birth, is 11-23-1999” 

“Were here, please sit down” the woman ordered, pointing to a bed. She sat down at a chair, her tablet in hand. “Hmm, It says here that you have been fighting in the underground for 3 years… but have never once been in the nursery before.. Impressive. Well anyway, turn for me so I can pop that thing back in. might feel a bit uncomfortable.” 

The nurse gently grabbed Wriothesley's shoulder and popped it back into place quickly, then she went to grab cotton swabs for his ear, and gently started to wipe away the now dried blood.

“Alright, nothing bad with the ear, just avoid putting anything in it until it's fully healed. Oh and I'm Y/n by the way, I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Oh, uhm yeah nice to meet you Y/n. Thank you for that. Am I all right to go back to the ring now?”

“Why don't you go home, let your shoulder rest a bit, hmm?” She hummed sweetly, making the man's stomach flop around. 

“Oh.. yeah yeah. So uhm, if I ever get hurt again, I just come to you right..” Wriothesley asked.

“Yeah, or one of my other nurses. It was lovely meeting you Mr. Wriothesley but I'm busy and need to get going, make sure to rest, goodbye.” She quickly left, leaving Wriothesley to himself to think about the interaction.

“Man.. I might need to come here more often..”  

Previous     Next

Smau Masterlist

Taglist: @sl-vega @zyphyrr @num1wriothesleyfan @aixaingela

Dividers by: https://www.tumblr.com/cafekitsune

[anianurst]

Dreams Do Come True

Summary: days go by, and Yuji's dreams stop. restless by your absence, Yuji decides to confide in his teacher

A/n: the final part of this mini-series :( im happy that it's received so much love <3 thank youuuuu

Warning(s): mentions of death, puke, mental breakdown, spoilers for jjk season two (episode 17)

It's quiet without you. Not a peaceful quiet but an unsettling one. One that fills your lungs and sits and you struggle to breathe. You hadn't appeared since Yuji was awakened from his last dream with you. Night after night, he goes to bed with bated breaths, hoping you'll appear and he can again relish in your devoted love.

But that doesn't happen. A day goes by, then another, and before he knows it, two weeks pass by with no appearance of you. It's noticeable to everyone that something has been irking Yuji. He smiled a little less and always responded with short answers.

The more noticeable change was the absence of the curse within him. Now that he thinks about it, Yuji doesn't remember Sukuna appearing or talking to him ever since you had appeared in his dreams. The king of curses had been quiet and seemingly lurking in the depths of his soul.

There was one moment that Yuji remembers (more like his body remembers). The moment that you had left with Uraume, he remembered a deep pull from the bottom of his soul. A rough tug that told him he needed to go to you now. The sharp pull then fizzled out as his body turned the opposite way.

"So, what's bothering you, Yuji?" Satoru asks, his bright blue eyes filled with curiosity hidden behind his trademark blindfold. Yuji jolts from the sudden question as he looks up from his phone. An unsure feeling fills his stomach before he sighs and confides in his teacher.

"There's this girl."

"Oh?" There's a teasing tone as Satoru smirks. Yuji's cheeks flare up as he quickly shakes his head.

"It's not how you think it is," he says. "I don't know her." Okay, now Yuji's just talking nonsense, Satoru thinks. "She started showing up in my dreams a while ago, but she hasn't appeared in a like long time."

"Oh?" Satoru says, and it's different this time. He's intrigued by Yuji's confession.

"It's like I know her, but I don't at the same time," Yuji adds. Satoru hums and runs a hand through his snow-like hair. A second passes before he snaps his fingers and makes finger guns at his student.

"You don't know her, but someone else does," Satoru concludes, and Yuji's eyebrows furrow. Why is his teacher always speaking in a metaphorical way? It isn't until Yuji feels something shift on his cheek. A single eye surfaces underneath the teen's left cheek and glares at the white-haired male, warning him not to dig any deeper.

23:14, Dogenzaka, In Front of Shibuya 109

Your lips are parted in awe as you stare at the crater of destruction before you. Even now, in modern times, Sukuna's destruction has always left you breathless, in awe of the beautiful chaos left behind.

A gust of wind comes from behind you, and you turn to look. 'He looks different,' you think, your eyes meeting four ruby-red ones that have always sent warmth through your body.

As he steps towards you, a smirk makes its way to Sukuna's face. A single hand (he has two arms instead of four. a fact that makes you question if you like this change) caresses your face, and you snuggle into the warmth of your lover's hand.

"Be sure to savor this, brat," is all Sukuna mutters as his red eyes give way to brown ones. His hand falls from your cheek, and Yuji's eyes are wide in horror.

He takes in your captivating form, smiling at him and the mass destruction behind you. His hands come up to clutch at his face as shaky breaths leave his lips. Memories of Sukuna's destruction fill his mind, and he falls to his knees.

A groan leaves him as he empties his stomach onto the ground before him. Tears start falling from his eyes as he screams his lungs out. Chants of 'die' and 'only me' fill the air as you continue smiling at him.

His cries die down in volume while you kneel down, your traditional, thin kimono becoming stained with his puke. Your welcoming arms wrap around his shoulders as you pull his figure into yours, your neck becoming damp with his tears.

"Welcome home, my love."

taglist: @aish777 @chuuberrysworld @reigenation @shegetsburned @destroyer-of-za-warudo @darkcowboypirate @cunisna @reverrieee @hotpossumjam @nnasv @sunshinesetsstuff @smolgojo

[yurislotusgarden]

pm!dazai for the event and 23?

ʚїɞ Port mafia!Dazai Osamu x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 751

ʚїɞ Tw’s: very small mention of death but it's Dazai so what do you expect

ʚїɞ Just Dazai getting used to this thing called feelings lmao, it isn't really mentioned that it's pm!Dazai but yeah... also I have no excuse for not posting for a month, simply didn't feel like writing🤷‍♀️

ʚїɞ anon if you will see this after all these months that this has been in my inbox, I'm sorry for how long this took, but I'm gonna write all the event works I never did😭

ʚїɞ 23: Moving the other one by their waist / the event this is from

He would really appreciate it.

He would really appreciate you not standing up on that unstable stool. He may have not voiced it out, but he really dislikes the idea of you falling over and hurting yourself, he would probably laugh if it was anyone else, but not you.

You were currently getting ingredients out of a higher cupboard, the things you were reaching for were things you didn’t use often to cook, so he could say that it made sense that they were up there, but couldn’t you stand on something more stable? Is that really too much to ask?

“You already took a few things out, isn't that all that you need?” He was hoping that the thing you took out just a moment ago was the last one.

“Nope! I still need one more thing.” It seems life hated him more than he thought.

He did plan on just staying in place and letting you get that one last ingredient, but then the stool decided to be a bitch and scare both of you (not like you knew it scared him) by swaying in a way that a stool for sure damn shouldn't. You didn't fall, no, you simply gripped onto the shelf in front of you until it stabilized, but it was more than enough to make Dazai freak out internally and get him to move after having enough of the whole situation.

It was obvious to him that you were trying to decide whether you should get that last thing or just get down, but he didn't give you time to think before he wrapped his arms around your waist and simply made you get down by pulling you backward, and then setting you down on the floor.

“You're gonna end up dead because of something absolutely stupid, you know that?”

“No, I won't. Besides, falling from that stool wouldn't kill me.”

“Delusional.”

“Look who's talking.”

“You little shit!”

“I may be shorter but don't call me that!”

Maybe he's the one who's gonna end up dead because of something stupid, and that thing may just be you.

He sighed quietly. He still wasn't used to this shit called feelings.

“Even if you didn't die from that, you would still hurt yourself and would probably have to go to a hospital.”

“...”

No answer? 

“What? Did a small fact shut you up so quickly?”

“...You care whether I will land in a hospital or not?” It was just an innocent question, and yet it was more than enough to get him to feel strangely warm and his heart to speed up somewhat. Jesus, you’re gonna be the death of him someday.

“Dazai?”

Oh shit. Don't look up at him like that, you're gonna kill him. 

“No, I simply don't need your parents on my ass-”

“No no no, I saw the look in your eyes, you idiot! You're worried even about the idea of me getting hurt, don't you?” The grin on your face has to be infectious right? Maybe a hidden ability he didn't know about? Because there was no way that he wanted to smile just because you did.

“You're actually crazy [Name], did you ever think about applying for a mental hospital?”

“Did you think of doing that yourself?”

“I- what the fuck?!” He was lowkey speechless inside, but you didn't need to know that. Why didn't he expect that response? It was so damn easy to predict that you would say that back!

“Wait, what do you mean you saw it in my eyes?” It was surprisingly a genuine question. His eyes were like a bottomless void, there was nothing that one could see in them, so how did you see anything like care?

You chuckled softly under your breath as if you could read his thoughts, and he didn't know if he liked that thought or not. “Eyes are the door to the soul, no?”

The door to the soul that he was sure he didn't have.

“By the way, can you let go of my waist now?”

“Hm? Yeah, of course.” The calm tone of his words did not reflect what he felt internally at the moment.

Shit. Fuck. He didn't let go of your waist the entire time. He wished that someone would just shoot him in that moment to save him from the embarrassment that he felt.

.

.

.

…He would lie to himself if he said that it didn't feel nice to hold you so close to him though.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[therantingsage]

Final batch of blogtember prompts! Once again, prompts provided by @jazzy-art-time / @mod-jazzy!! Thank you for giving me a buncha stuff to do this month!

Elaborations under the cut:

Day 21: I decided the funniest thing to do for this was to swap the shiny status of my Eevee twins. Cream and Cheese who did this to you! Uncanny!

Day 22: Ok genuinely one of the scenes I'm most interested in writing. These three characters are super old conceptually and near and dear to my heart. Once I get to doing stuff with them I'm going to be so!!! Excited!!!!

Day 23: I checked and it turns out I don't have like any nature photography on my phone? So I looked up cave pictures on google and picked one to put my rats in. Hello Remulus and Atticus nice to see you

Day 24: Hmm....important Apricorn. Wonder what that's about hmmmm

Day 25: This one!! Vexed me!! Because a lot of the ships in my blogs feel like plot spoilers to talk about? Or at least the ones I like the most. So I picked Anneva and Reginald! Because I've mentioned Anneva on inquiries and I've drawn them both on here in the past. They're a comfort duo.

Day 26: If Paleo and Tide have one fan its me bro!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Initially I tried to draw him awkwardly giving her flowers but I couldn't get the pose right so instead they're going on a park date! Hi again Jazzy I love your slug and so does Paleo!!!! Their dynamic is fun and cute and I like them!!!!!!

Day 28: I think I mentioned it once or twice? These four on fugamsemidei are based on slugcats in Rain World. In fact the first time I drew them at all was in a big batch of Poke-RW doodles. I just decided I liked them enough to make them characters on the blog. And they fit with the rest of the cast well enough so I don't have any shame lmao

Day 29: Anyone remember this gem??? I do. I rediscovered it recently and went "oh. Oh this is a Gravity song woaw"

Day 29 again: So uh I tried really hard to figure out something for day 27's prompt but I genuinely could not find anything within the time frame. So instead I just did day 29 twice. Neura with this song. Because a lot of people are really unhappy because of her actions. She's to blame for so much strife and grief. Deep down and also not that deep at all she's overcome with guilt but she's not gonna change anything rip.

Day 30: The first ever blog post I made was a poorly-drawn Aspen on phantumpdaily. But that's not particularly interesting to look at, and also I've drawn Aspen just floating there on many occasions so that post isn't super unique. So, instead, I drew the first post on the rebooted version of that blog: the intro to asklucyphantump. That was more directly an askblog than phantumpdaily anyway so this isn't cheese I swear skdfjashdf

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 23 coward | words: 1802

this one’s sad (i think). let me know what you think; enjoy;3

tw: child abuse, torturing, mentions of blood

Regulus Black has always been a coward.

It started when he was four and broke an old vase while playing with Sirius. Their mother stormed into the room, screaming like the mad woman she was. She asked which one of them did it, and Regulus froze.

He didn’t know what to expect of her, so he just stood there, looking at Walburga with wide eyes, until Sirius ever so confidently said, “C'était moi, Maman.” Regulus tried to deny it; he really wanted to tell her that it was him and not Sirius, but he couldn't get a word out as the first Crucio hit his brother. He watched as his best friend, his guardian angel, twisted in painful convulsions, screaming loudly.

When Walburga decided it was enough after almost a minute of torturing her son, she withdrew her wand and wordlessly fixed the shuttered vase. As she left the room, Regulus kneeled next to Sirius, helping him stand up and leading him to Regulus’ room.

He tried to make Sirius feel better, but the whole time he spent next to his brother, a quiet voice in his head was repeating over and over: You didn't even try to help him, coward.

It kept happening until the boys went to Hagwats. Unfortunately, when Regulus sat on the stool and the Sorting Hat covered his eyes, he became a coward again.

“Don't be afraid,” said the old hat. “You have so much courage, why would you suddenly be stressed?”

“I'm not brave. If I were brave, I would ask you to put me in Gryffindor so I could be with Sirius. But I saw what happened to him when you sorted him there, so instead, I'll ask you to put me in Slytherin like the rest of my family.” Regulus said it in a quiet voice full of panic.

The hat hummed appreciatively on his head. “This is the bravery I'm talking about,” and then a loud “SLYTHERIN!”

The boy looked at his brother with a sad, apologetic expression on his face, hoping the older boy would understand. Coward, coward, coward, said the voice he had heard in his head almost every day since he was four years old.

Years passed and everything stayed the same: Sirius still protected him from their parents, getting worse punishments every time, and he was still a coward who couldn’t help his own brother. Until one night, when Regulus was fifteen and decided he could.

There was a big fight between Sirius, Orion, and Walburga. At first, they were just talking passive aggressively, but as time went on, plates and spells started flying around the room. At one point, Regulus heard Sirius screaming in pain, as if someone were flaying him, and then everything went quiet. He just heard the door to his father’s study open and close before he ran down the stairs he had been standing on for the past thirty minutes.

The sight Regulus found as he entered the room almost made him vomit. Sirius lay on the floor in a pool of blood, his chest rising and falling frantically, and that’s when Regulus decided his brother would no longer suffer for him.

He picked Sirius up and led him to the nearest fireplace. Knowing Sirius and Potter were close, Regulus threw Floo Powder into the chimney and loudly said Potter Manor, pushing his brother into green flames and watching him disappear.

Hearing the loud sound of Floo departure, his parents almost ran downstairs to find him standing next to the fireplace with a wand in his hand.

“Where is he?” Walburga hissed at him, followed by Orion’s murderous look.

Regulus swallowed thickly, and with a trembling voice, he replied, "Somewhere, you can’t hurt him anymore.”

He just saw his father raise his wand before everything went black.

•••

When he returned to Hogwarts in September, he wasn’t expecting to see James Potter standing on the platform alone, looking like he was waiting for someone. As Barty laughed obnoxiously next to him, the Gryffindor raised his head slightly. When he noticed Regulus, the boy’s eyes sparkled a little, and he started walking in his direction. Regulus stopped then and told his friends he'd catch up to them later.

“Hi,” James said sheepishly, and Regulus tried his best not to jump out of his skin.

“What do you want, Potter?” he asked, trying to sound confident but failing thanks to his high-pitched voice. The Gryffindor looked at him with a small smile, righting his glasses in what seemed like a nervous gesture.

“I wanted to thank you. For what you did for Sirius, I mean,” James’ voice was a little shaky, like the mare thought of what he saw that night made him want to cry. “And, well, how are you? I know from Sirius what kind of monsters they are, so how are you holding up?” the boy added quickly, seeming afraid Regulus would dismiss him.

And in other circumstances, he would probably tell him to fuck off and go away. But he decided he wasn’t a coward anymore, so instead, Regulus took a deep breath and looked into James’ eyes.

“To be completely honest with you, I’m not holding up. The way they treat me is fucked, but I prefer that over seeing this happen to Sirius. I assume your family helped him at least a bit, and I'm really grateful for that. If he doesn’t want to see me, tell him I miss him and I’m sorry.” As he said that last word, he wanted to leave and get back to his friends, but a gentle yet firm hand stopped him.

“If you—um,” James started, clearing his throat several times before he continued. “If you’d need to talk about it, or smush something, or—or anything really—come find me. I owe you for what you did for Pads.” His eyes were glistening with unshed tears and honesty.

Regulus smiled slightly and promised to seek out James if he needed it.

The first time Regulus sent an owl to the older boy was in the second week of October. The last six weeks have been hard but bearable. On Monday, October 7th, he received a letter from his mother, telling him she went through his room and found one of Sirius' vinyls hidden under the mattress. She attached a photograph to the letter; on it, Bowie's Diamond Dogs record was being eaten by blue flames. On the other side of the photo, written in neat cursive, were the words, 'If I find one more, you will end up like this'. His mother was mental; he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t do that.

So, Regulus wrote a short note, 'Meet me in the abandoned classroom on the third floor after supper?' and sent it to Potter. As the older boy received the note on Tuesday’s morning, Regulus could see him looking for him in the sea of students. When their eyes finally met, James just nodded with determination written all over his face.

That’s how Regulus found himself sitting on the windowsill in an empty room, watching stars while waiting for his brother’s best friend to show up.

When he finally did, James took a place opposite Regulus on the windowsill and waited patiently for the younger boy to say something.

“My mother sent me a letter,” Regulus said after a while. He took it out of the back pocket in his trousers and handed it to James. The Gryffindor read it fast and took a deep, slightly shaky breath as he looked at the picture.

“Do you think—"

“She’s crazy, so I assume she means it,” Regulus replied, still looking at the stars. James shifted a little and put a hand on his gently. Regulus nodded once, letting the older boy take his hand in a soothing gesture.

After that night, it happened at least once each week: they sat there, sometimes talking, sometimes in complete silence. Regulus liked it. James never pushed him to say something he didn’t want to; he just waited patiently until Regulus felt comfortable enough to tell him on his own. He always took Regulus’ hand to ease the younger boy’s nerves. At some point, the hand-holding turned into James holding him close to his chest, which turned into small kisses on his nose, cheeks, and forehead, and eventually even that changed, turning into real kisses; it all felt so good. Regulus felt so good.

In December, a few days before Christmas break, they met again. Regulus couldn’t sleep the whole week leading up to the break, afraid of what would happen when he was back at Grimmauld Place.

“You don’t have to go there,” James whispered into his ear, rubbing soothing circles on Regulus’ bicep. They were sitting on their windowsill, cuddling; it was peaceful, made Regulus calm down a bit. “You can come to my place. Sirius would be so happy to spend Christmas with you. And my parents would love to have you there; they said that themselves,” he continued.

Regulus turned his head slightly to see the other’s eyes. “You spoke to your parents about me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The older boy smiled crookedly, saying, “Of course, what if you’ll say yes to this idea and they’re not prepared?” Reg laughed quietly at that answer.

He started thinking about it—spending Christmas in a house where he wouldn’t have to worry about being beaten up if he said the wrong thing—with his brother and James, which sounded oh so very good. But on the other side were his parents. He was scared they would find him and take him back, punishing him like never before.

“I can’t,” he said, the sadness almost palpable in his voice. “They would kill me for that.” James just held him tighter at that.

They fell into thick silence, both thinking about a solution to their problem.

“You know,” James started after some time. “We could write them a letter. Threaten them that you will go to the Wizengamot about the abuse and violence against you and Sirius if they even try to find you.”

“That wouldn’t work,” he replied. “They have half the Wizengamot under their thumb.”

“Yeah, but my parents are friends with the minister,” James smiled at him.

So when Regulus returned to his dormitory that night, he wrote a letter to his parents, saying exactly what he needed to say. As he finished, he sprinted to the owlery and sent it before he could change his mind.

Two days later, Regulus received the Howler. Hearing his mother's angry voice made his heart sink, but when he realized there was a scared tone in her voice that he would actually testify against her in the Magical Court, he knew he had won. He was free from her.

translation: It was me, mom

[dmercer91]

ebug's sister, dm91

ok, first post where blake is blake!! also, excuse the absolute dumpster fire that is my life, and is the reason that this post is one post and not like 47

last season! (2022-23) part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven / part twelve

(2023-24)! part one /

blakefriarr_

liked by dawson1417, adamfantilli and 6,947 others

blakefriarr_: so many things have happened since i last popped up on all your timelines and made them immeasurably better!

this is episode one of season two of i-am-both-the sister-of-the-devils-home-emergency-backup-goaltender-and-also-happen-to-be dating-dawson-mercer-forward-for-the-devils series!

these pictures are in no particular order, because, i am moving into a new place with afore mentioned dawson mercer and have spent the last several weeks making it look like it's not the most depressing back alley murderous apartment any of you have ever laid your eyes on

and apparently, i have a ball ton of stuff!

regardless, here's what i've caught up on;

the entire nhl draft! though i have not acquired any new adoptees, it did come to my attention that the anaheim ducks as an organization did personally victimize me during the 2023 entry draft (they also took a BALLSY amount of time to re-sign bitch one and bitch two. what the literal fuck, dudes). also- if you are seeing this and you need help to flee, blink twice (not you adam) (you know who you are)

2, the entire preseason was also missed while i was one, curing myself from jetlag and the absolute dread of going back to uni and two, moving my egregious amount of shit with a spiteful level of independence. the devils won every preseason game! dawson scored that clusterfuck of a goal on slide two and we also got to see goalie bonks again! (i told you those pics weren't in order and i meant it)

three, (or four, i forgot what came first) quinneth played his first regular season game as captain of the canucks ad they kicked ass against the edmonton dudes. goncrats captain ;p

four (probably) rookie had both his first reg season nhl game AND his birth on the same day! he cried on camera for thousands of viewers and made me question kidnapping his brother and locking him in an abandoned building in ohio (who am i kidding i don't want to be in ohio). the blue jackets have since been doing blue jacket things (losing)

five (it's all blended together these days) the devs started their regular season and now i get to go to the arena and watch in peace as nico makes dumb faces, jack gets into petty scrums and goes to the box (apparently? that ones new.) and dawson does dawson things (be hot)

sixth and finally, assistant coach and captain quinn (he should probably drop a title for his mental health, me thinks) turned 24! i giggled profusely at an edit of him as tracksuit rob. good job on aging, kid 🎉

that's all, i think. (probably not, what do i know)

view 712 comments..

jj.friar31: remember when we were roomies??? siblings defying the odds?? i've been left out to dry. i'm MARINATING in my loneliness. you've basically shot me and left me out for dead, blakey.

→ blakefriarr_: this is a touch dramatic, that's MY thing

→ jj.friar31: if i agree to never steal your dramatics again will you come back

→ blakefriarr_: have u seen how pretty my boyfriend is?? no dude

→ jj.friar31: blake pls

adamfantilli: of every picture you could've used you just decided to screenshot me crying

→ blakefriarr_: hi im blake have we met??

→ adamfantilli: also, do not kidnap luca.

→ blakefriarr_: oh so you just don't want my love?? is that what this is??

→ luca.fantilli: do not kidnap me

→ blakefriarr_: BOOORRRINNNGGGGG

nicohischier: every day i wonder what it would be like if we didn't let the ebug's come into the room

→ blakefriarr_: do you want dawson to be lonely and bitchless

→ nicohischer: yeah kinda??

→ blakefriarr_: oh

jackhughes: why.

→ blakefriarr_ ehehehe your bucket doing weird things

_quinnhughes: ??????? why am i tracksuit rob????

→ blakefriarr_: who else would be tracksuit rob

→ _quinnhughes: nobody needs to be tracksuit rob, friar.

→ _blakefriarr_: WRONG! you do :)

_connorbedard: am i who i are???

→ blakefriarr_: no apparently you are timbaland

→ _connorbedard: oh. okay?

→ adamfantilli: @/_connorbedard you get used to it

→ _connorbedard: do i want to??

→ adamfantilli: eh. 50/50

dawson1417: oh how i've missed the chaos

→ blakefriarr_: fbejdbsjshdghshsb

→ dawson1417: sometimes it's almost like you say words

→ blakefriarr_: :p i love you

→ dawson1417: i love you too, my girl <3

tannercharlotte: this is my reality tv

→ blakefriarr_: i'll leave him for u say the word

→ dawson1417: HEY??

→ blakefriarr_: shhhh baby go sleep

→ tannercharlotte: don't leave him b he doesn't have to know

ryangraves27: she back

→ blakefriarr_: i back!!

nhlblackhawks: ??

→ njdevils: don't '??' her she's right

→ blakefriarr_: thank you (trade for charlie)

→ nyrangers: i can excuse hawks slander but i draw the line at trying to take our char

→ nhlblackhawks: you can excuse hawks slander?

→ jj.friar31: why do teams keep doing this you have ENOUGH leverage over me

trevorzegras: am i bitch one or bitch two

→ trevorzegras: actually yk what don't answer that i don't wanna know

→ blakefriarr_: too bad you're actually both jamie is an angel

view more comments..

[luvangelbreak]

Deprived | Five

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of drugs (weed) word count: 3.3k a/n: the italics are a flashback to allie and layla in their gym class btw! love you guys <3

pov: layla

I decided to stay home from school for the rest of the week, I just didn't have the energy to endure the looks people would give me. The whispering during my last two subjects after Matt and I came back at lunch was already too much and it was worse in gym when Allie stuck to her word and paired up with me.

She seemed nice, much nicer than Mia was to me. She talked my ear off the whole lesson but I didn't mind because then I didn't have to talk.

"Don't worry about Mia, by the way. She can be really bitchy at times but she just doesn't like change. I promise she is usually a lot nicer," Allie rambled as we walked around the gym as a warm-up, "It was kinda funny though. No one ever really stands up to her when she gets bitchy because everyone's scared that her dad will arrest them."

Oh, I've met her dad.

"Matt also stood up for you after you left. I trust Matt's opinion on people, he's kinda my scapegoat when it comes to talking to people. I told him to start talking to you like three weeks ago so I could ask you to hang out. I just get nervous talking to people I don't know sometimes."

You don't seem nervous now, motor mouth.

"Sorry if I'm rambling a lot. I'm just really glad you decided to pair up with me because I've been paired with Mia for like the past 2 years. It's nice to have a new friend. It's not like I don't like my friends but Mia is my only girl friend and the guys are such guys sometimes it drives me mad. You get your nails done?"

I shook my head no before she continued, "We should go get our nails done sometime. My shout of course, I'm not gonna force you to get your nails done as well as make you pay."

She was a ray of sunshine and I was sure people were confused as someone as sweet as her was talking to someone like me who looked like they had a constant rain cloud over their head. I found myself amused by her rambling and I decided that it wouldn't be the worst thing to talk to her every now and then.

I spent the rest of my week smoking weed when my father wasn't home and drawing on the last few pages of my sketchbook. The time passed quickly considering I slept for most of the days. Suddenly it was Friday afternoon and I heard a knock at my front door.

I paused my music, frowning when I looked at the clock to see it was 3:30. It was far too early for my dad to be home so I grabbed the metal bat that was lying on the bottom of my underwear drawer, sneaking towards the door silently. Another round of light knocks were placed on the door and I crept up to it before looking through the peephole.

My tense shoulders slumped as I looked at two people with the same face and their familiar brown hair. I unlocked the deadbolt on the door as well as the regular lock before I swung the door open.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, leaning my left hand on the handle of the bat now that the other end was placed on the floor.

"Hi to you too," Chris mumbled as he looked side to side, clearly tense to be in South End as Matt smiled at me.

"I figured you would forget about the game. Decided to come earlier in case you were ready which..." he looked down at my outfit which was my small sleep shorts and an old ratty t-shirt, "I don't think you are?"

"You didn't say it was this Friday!" I frowned and Chris looked down at the bat I was leaning on before shaking his head.

"Good thing I came early then," Matt smirked at me and I chewed at my lip. I tapped the bat on the ground as I thought making Chris look at me again.

"Calm down. I'm not gonna use it on you," I deadpanned to Chris and he just shrugged, looking back out at the street. I felt a nervousness in my chest because they were at my house but I knew if they stayed on the porch or in their car, someone would try something. So I reluctantly said, "Come in."

"We can wait in the ca-"

I cut off Matt quickly, "Get inside now." They looked at each other in surprise before shuffling past me and I closed the door behind them before saying, "Do you have anything valuable in your car? Phone, wallet, laptop?"

They both shook their heads and I locked both of the locks on the door before I spun around to face them again.

"Why?" Chris asked and I tilted my head, giving him an unimpressed look.

"I'll just say you're lucky you drive a fucking soccer mom car or it would be broken into within 15 minutes," I answered blandly and they seemed somewhat shocked but didn't talk, "Come on."

I walked down the hall towards my room, slipping inside and they followed shortly behind me.

"We could've waited on the couch," Matt said as I closed the door of my bedroom and raised my eyebrows.

"If my dad came home and you were sitting on the couch, say goodbye to hockey for the rest of your life," I replied dryly and he pursed his lips, "If he comes home, you will just have to go out my window and jump the fence around the side of the house."

"You don't know when he's coming home?" Chris asked as he leaned against the wall beside my mattress and I shook my head. I was suddenly very conscious that I had the two most loved boys in our school standing in my dirty bedroom. I looked around my room, realising that I looked like I lived in a trap house with my mattress on the floor, empty beer bottles in the corner of my room with cigarettes stuck in them and clothes all over the floor.

"Sorry about the mess. No one ever comes over," I mumbled as I moved a couple clothes off of my mattress, "Sit wherever. Just don't look over here because I'm gonna get changed."

I travelled to the corner of my room where my chest of drawers sat and I saw them both turn to face away from me quickly. After placing the bat beside the drawers, I pulled out black baggy jeans, took off my shorts quickly and slid them on. I then took off my old T-shirt and slid on a baby blue hoodie. I didn't bother putting on a shirt since it would be cold at the game and I wouldn't have to take my hoodie off at any point.

"I'm dressed," I let them know as I grabbed my boots off of the floor, sitting down next to my dresser so I could slide them on easily. I looked up to see both of them sitting on my mattress, looking around my room. Their expressions were unreadable as they looked around my room.

"I like your posters," Chris spoke up and I looked to the wall above my mattress where my Bob Marley, Frank Ocean and Kurt Cobain posters were hung.

"Thanks," I answered, a half-hearted smile being sent his way which he reciprocated, "When do we have to leave by?"

"Four," Matt answered and I nodded, checking the time to see it was 3:40. I hopped off of the floor, walked over to my desk and sat down on the old desk chair.

I scribbled some eyeliner on my eyes before smudging it with my finger and then putting mascara on. I grabbed my lip balm, placing it on my lips before I ran a hand through my curly hair. I grabbed the white beanie that was thrown onto the floor, sliding it onto my head. I jumped up from the seat, grabbed my leather jacket that was hanging over the back of the chair and slid it on.

"Do I need to bring anything?" I asked, having no clue what else to bring to a hockey game.

"Just your team spirit," Chris cheered sarcastically and I tilted my head with an amused look on my face.

"I'm not a cheerleader for a reason," I answered and he shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't cheer when we win," he retorted and I nodded in agreement.

"I'm good as long as I'm not expected to start screaming 'Go Bats go!' like an idiot," I did a small jump when I said the slogan that I heard all the cheerleaders say proudly and Matt laughed in response as Chris shook his head with a smile.

"You wanna get food on the way?" Matt asked and I shook my head in response.

"I'm good, I just ate," I explained and he nodded, quickly checking his phone.

"We should probably go," he said, turning his phone to me to see that it was 3:55. I couldn't believe another 15 minutes had passed so quickly but I nodded. Making sure I had my phone, cigarettes, lighter and keys in my pocket, I swung the bedroom door open as Matt and Chris followed behind me. I unlocked the front door swinging it open and motioning for Chris and Matt to go outside.

They walked past me and walked to their car as I turned around to lock the door with my keys. After triple-checking the door, I wandered down the driveway to the minivan. I noticed that Matt was always the one to drive and Chris was seated in the passenger seat, phone already plugged into the aux.

I slid the back door open, jumping inside before I closed the door behind me. As I buckled myself in, Matt started the car and Chris played a song by Lil Skies.

"We good?" Matt asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror and I nodded before he spun around to look at me, "I didn't even have to remind you about your seatbelt, so proud."

"Start driving before I change my mind and go back to the comfort of my bed," I smiled slightly and he beamed back at me before he spun around and we took off down the street.

Within 5 minutes, we were in the parking lot and Chris was wriggling his body along to the beat of the next Lil Skies song. I could take a wild guess as to who his favourite artist is.

Matt turned the music down, earning a glare from Chris but he turned around to look at me ignoring his brother for a moment, "You waiting in the car or coming in?"

"I'm gonna have a smoke first then I'll come in," I explained and he nodded before turning off the car.

"You head in. I'll be there in a sec," Matt told Chris who was clicking away on his phone. With a nod, he jumped out of the car and walked around to the back of the car.

"You want me to take your shit inside?" Chris called from the trunk as I turned around to see Chris lugging his huge duffle bag full of hockey shit.

"Nah I got it," Matt called back to him and Chris raised his eyebrows as he leaned into the trunk again.

"Don't start fuckin in the car or I swear to god," he deadpanned before slamming the trunk closed and I saw him start walking towards the building.

"Sorry about him," Matt mumbled apologetically and I shrugged as I turned to face him.

"It's fine. Wouldn't expect anything less," I told him with an amused smirk making him shake his head, a smile creeping onto his lips, "Are you gonna go inside?"

"I'll wait for you to finish and then I'll show you where to sit inside," he explained and I nodded before hopping out of the car. I closed the door behind me before leaning against the car, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between my lips before lighting it. I heard Matt's door open and close before he rounded the car to get to the trunk.

As I began smoking my cigarette, a car pulled into the space next to Matt's and a few moments passed before Nate and Allie appeared out of the car.

"Hey! Matt told me you were coming," Allie beamed at me and I observed her outfit, feeling strange to see her out of her usual cheer or gym attire. Instead, she had blue jeans, a black puffer jacket with a blue beanie on and black and white vans.

"He failed to mention the game was this Friday," I told her and she rolled her eyes as Nate waved at me. I sent him a wave back with the hand that held my cigarette before I took another puff.

"Is Nick coming?" Nate asked and Matt appeared beside me, duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Nah. He said something about doing homework tonight. Chris is already inside," Matt explained with a shrug as Nate rounded the back of his car and popped the trunk open, grabbing a duffle bag of his own hockey gear.

"You coming in?" Allie asked me and I held the cigarette up.

"When I finish this," I told her, a smile tugging at my lips at her beaming personality.

"See you guys in there!" Nate called as he started walking towards the building with Allie following behind him.

"Is Miss Cheer herself coming?" I asked Matt once Allie and Nate were out of earshot and he shrugged, moving to stand in front of me as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

"No clue. She usually shows up late if she comes though," he told me honestly and I nodded, noticing my cigarette almost being done. I quickly finished it before dropping it onto the ground and squishing it underneath my foot. I went to push away from the car but Matt stopped me by saying, "Hold up."

"What?" I asked, confusion written on my face. He held his hand up before he dropped his duffle bag to the ground and squatted down to rummage through one of the smaller pockets.

He pulled out a small pot of black face paint and a brush before standing back up, "Move your hair."

"What are you doing?" I squinted at him as he opened the pot of black face paint and he smiled at me.

"Just trust me," he shrugged and I squinted my eyes at him for a moment before I tucked my hair behind my ears. I tilted my head back as I peered up at him and he dipped the brush into the pot before he started painting my right cheek.

"If you're drawing a dick on my face I'll kill you with my bare hands, Matthew," I mumbled, trying not to move my mouth much as his tongue poked out between his lips in concentration.

"If I was gonna do that..." he trailed off before leaning back with a smile, "I'd use a sharpie."

"What did you do?" I asked and he just shrugged as he closed the pot again, sliding it back into his bag before swinging it over his shoulder again. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, opening the front camera to see he had painted the number 81 on my cheek, "What does this mean?"

"You'll see," he shrugged with a smirk and I frowned as he started to walk backwards before he tilted his head towards the building, "Come on. I gotta warm up."

I pushed away from the car, trailing behind him as we walked towards the entrance. He swung the door open, standing behind it as he let me walk in first. We walked through the front area, some of his teammates being gathered around to grab snacks or energy drinks.

"Matty B!" one of the guys called who I recognised as Daniel and he jogged over to us as Matt paused, dapping him up quickly, "Who's this?"

"Layla, Daniel. Daniel, Layla," Matt introduced us and I just nodded at Daniel, not surprised that he didn't know my name.

"No Mia?" he asked Matt and Matt just shrugged in response.

"She's being weird. I don't know dude," Matt answered before he looked towards the rest of their team, "You guys gotta hurry up. We have 45 to warm up."

"Sir, yes, sir," Daniel sent Matt a salute before he started walking backwards and looked at me, "Nice to meet you, princess."

I sent him another nod before Matt started walking towards the doors of the rink, "Ignore Dan. He'll try to fuck anything with legs."

"Don't worry, Captain. I don't do goalies," I smirked and he chuckled in response, holding the door open to the rink for me to enter first again. I walked in, the cold air hitting my cheeks making me shiver.

"Layla!" I heard Allie's chirpy voice call out from the bleachers and I looked to my left to see her sitting front and centre, I sent her a small wave as I started to walk over to her with Matt following behind me.

"I gotta go get ready but are you good to sit with Allie?" Matt asked me and I turned my head to look at him now that he was on my right and I nodded.

"Yeah. Go make sure your hair is nice before you play," I joked as he rolled his eyes, pushing my shoulder slightly before spinning around to walk backwards while I paused at the steps that led up to where Allie was seated, "Break a leg, pretty boy."

"Thanks, pretty girl," he smirked at me and I bit my lip to hide my smile as he spun back around and walked into the locker room at the end of the rink. I shook my head to get rid of my smile as I walked up a few steps before sitting down next to Allie.

She smirked at me and I gave her a confused expression, "What?"

"Nothing," she hummed, her smirk turning into a smile as she looked out onto the ice. She pulled a packet of Sour Patch Kids out from her small handbag that I hadn't even noticed before she pulled open the packet, "You want one?"

"Sure," I shrugged, picking out a couple before throwing them into my mouth and her actions followed mine.

"So you and Matt..." she trailed off and I looked back at her as she smiled at me.

"Me and Matt?" I questioned, waiting for her to continue.

"You guys are cute," she shrugged, a genuine joy spread across her face and I let my mouth fall open.

"Uh... I don't even know if we're friends let alone anything else," I told her honestly and she rolled her eyes playfully before she hummed.

"Matt doesn't talk to just anyone. If he's asking you to come to his games clearly he wants you around," she told me as if it were obvious and I shrugged as I chewed on my lip. A few players from the other team skated onto the ice with their full gear, doing laps around the ice lazily.

"I don't think Chris and Nick like me though. His brothers' opinions probably mean a lot to him," I answered, looking at the players skating in circles. A couple players from Matt's team slid onto the ice as they started doing the same as the opposition.

"Chris is just focused on other shit. Nick tends to stick to himself a lot so just give them both time," she tried to reassure me and I looked back to her before she continued, "Besides, I like you so they're not getting rid of you that easily while I'm around."

"What about Mia?" I asked, genuinely curious as to how heavily Mia's opinion influenced her friends.

Allie sighed as she looked out at the rink, "Mia will figure it out. I don't know why she's being so weird about it. I think it's because she's protective over us."

"Matt's the one that came to me. I don't know why she was acting like I'm tryna break up your entire friend group," I mumbled as I looked out onto the ice to see a couple more players.

Only then did I realise that number 81 with a small C on the chest of his blue and white jersey was skating around the rink and it was none other than Matthew Sturniolo.

[daughterofcain-67]

𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: Post season 15 with alternate universe/ending with both Winchesters get a happy ending (SPOILERS MENTIONED)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after Chuck was finally defeated and Jack took charge of Heaven, you hoped that you could finally settle down with your husband. But once an hunter, always a hunter you supposed. You try to talk to Dean about retiring for good, leading the both of you into an argument. But when something happens to you as a result of a case, Dean reconsiders the idea of retirement.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of supernatural ending (sort of), argument with Dean, violence, blood, close call for character death.

You thought that for sure since Chuck was finally defeated and Jack was in charge of the new Heaven, things would die down for Dean and he would be less tense. And for a little while, he did seem more relaxed. In fact, after so many years of waiting and wondering if it would ever happen, the two of you were finally able to get married! Dean was growing his hair out and he had a little beard growing too.

You and Dean were still living in the bunker while Sam decided to begin his new life away from hunting once and for all. Dean started a business as a mechanic and whenever that familiar urge to hunt was there, he would occasionally take local cases on the weekends.

Things had been fairly relaxed but you knew that a part of Dean was always on the lookout for trouble. As if Chuck could make some kind of miraculous appearance again or there would be another angelic/demonic war. You knew he couldn't help it and you wished he wouldn't even hunt on the weekends but you knew that it was what he grew up with. It was all he knew next to fixing up cars.

Which brings you to this weekend. Dean had that itch to hunt again but you had to give him credit, it had been about a month since he went on his last hunt. Normally he would go every other week. Then again he had been a little bit backed up with work so he didn't exactly have the time to hunt until now.

You watched your husband go through the artillery in Baby's trunk and you smiled to yourself. Seeing him get ready for a hunt did bring back memories of simpler times before the brothers had to worry about the apocalypse. You remember when the two of you first met on a hunt over in Dunn, North Carolina. It was a simple little hunt, a milk run really. You had heard from Bobby that a certain father-and-son dup needed help on a case with a pack of werewolves. That was back when you were 23 and Dean was about 24 as Sam was already in college by that time.

That was the first time you met Dean and you were good acquaintances, maybe a hook up once in a while if you both happened to be in the same town as years went by. But you didn't have Dean as a constant in your life until Sam reached out to you a few years back saying something about some Mark of Cain. You had been there to help him in any way you could, even though it was sort of a solo suffering kind of thing and all you could do was help Sam think of a way to get it off. You didn't realize you loved him until Metatron fought Dean and you had almost lost him forever.

"Dean?" You asked as you walked towards him, placing a gentle hand on his back. He paused for a moment as he looked down at you with a certain softness in his eye that was finally able to be seen more often.

"Yeah, Sweetheart?" He answered as he shut the trunk.

"You'll be careful out there, right? I mean I know it's not demons, angels, or God himself, but vampires and werewolves are just as deadly. Hunters still get killed by basic monsters and spirits just the same. And they don't come back like you did so many times." You said, unable to help worrying even if he's done so many more dangerous things over the years.

"I know they are. And I promise, I'll come back home safe and sound, just like I always do." Dean promised and you rolled your eyes a little. The last hunting trip he went on with Sam, Dean nearly got himself killed on a basic hunt but luckily the wound he got was in his shoulder instead of anywhere fatal. After that hunt, Sam realized he was done with hunting for good and he encouraged Dean to start a different business - which was where the mechanic idea came from.

"You'd better keep that promise. You were supposed to retire like Sam did. If I lose you... this time it's for good. No spell, no miracle will bring you back this time." You started and Dean sighed a little and shook his head before taking your hand off him.

"Y/N, we've talked about this so many times and you know it's not going to change. I've pretty much stopped and now it's just an every once in a while kind of thing. I've hunted all my damn life and I know what I'm doing. I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do." He said, getting a little stern with you by raising his voice.

"Pretty much stopping is not being retired. And it's not being safe. If you have to hold onto hunting, then why can't you just be a researcher like Bobby was? Get off the field. You don't need to be a soldier anym-"

"Because I'm not Bobby! I'm not Sam! My place is out there like it always was! You know, when we got married I thought you'd be more supportive." He said and ran a hand through his longer hair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? I've been supportive of you for all these years! I've been one of the ones to support you with your mechanic business! Is it so damn wrong of me to want my husband alive?! Is it wrong of me to want you to stop being so reckless on hunts!? It's time for you to let go and finally live, Dean! That's all I want for you."

When you watched him turn around, it was like there was no emotion in his eyes, his brows slightly narrowed and his jaw set. You knew it was the sign that he was done talking about this even if it was the middle of an argument. "I'll see you in a couple of days. Maybe you'll be more open minded about everything by then."

"And you're going to leave just like that? Like what I had to say is no big deal?!" You asked as he got into the Impala and you watched him drive off. You threw your arms up with annoyance and you made your way inside the Bunker once more, unsure of what things would be like when he would come home. If he would come home.

That argument was more than a couple of days ago. In fact it was almost a week to be exact. Dean told you he'd be back in a couple of days and tomorrow would mark a week since he left on a stupid hunt.

Granted you knew a thing or two about cars yourself so the business wouldn't falter because the owner was gone. But you felt uneasy. What if something had happened to Dean after all? And after all of the things you said, of all things it had to be an argument. What if you would never get to remind him that you loved him again?

All of these thoughts and worries got to you, but luckily Sam was able to stop by and visit to help you with the shop, and sort of keep your head on straight without Dean around.

It was the end of another work day and you and Sam were at the bunker again. Sam was sitting at the table in the library skimming through the research books.

"You guys still held onto these? You could have sold them to several hunters and would have probably made some good money off them." Sam said as he shut the book and pushed it to the side just as you handed him a glass of bourbon.

"Yeah well.. your hard-headed brother wanted to keep them for his weekend trips incase he needed me to search something up." You muttered as you sat down, looking at your wedding band. You started to bounce your knee up and down anxiously and Sam noticed that the worry was starting to get to you.

"Y/N, I'm sure he'll be okay. You know that sometimes hunts can be a little more complicated than they lead on." Sam spoke

"But what if he's not okay, Sam? What if this is the one hunt that ends it for him? One wrong move and it could be over. One slip up and he's gone. What if he dies thinking I'm still upset with him? What if he dies thinking I never supported him?" You rambled and the last part was what caught Sam's attention.

"He said that? After everything you two have been through?" He asked and you nodded and you pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes and you could feel a stress-induced migraine coming on. Wonderful.

Sam let out a sigh, wishing his brother would lose that hard head but he knew that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. But when he looked at you again, he wanted to think of how to get your mind off the worst.

"Why don't you get out of the house for a while, huh? You need the fresh air and maybe you'll feel better. I'll give Dean a call while you're out and see if he's alright. He's going to be fine." Sam said and you thought about it for a moment before you nodded. Maybe the fresh air would do you some good.

"Yeah.. Maybe I'll go pick up some groceries while I'm out and stock up on some stuff." You said as you got out of the chair.

"Why don't I go with you though? Make sure nothing happens. It never hurts to be too cautious." He said, but you shook your head at the suggestion.

"The store's just a few minutes away. I'll be okay getting from here to there safely." You insisted and saw the nod from your brother-in-law.

And with all of that being said you ended up taking your own car to go to the nearest grocery store to pick up whatever it was you could think of that you needed, considering you didn't exactly have a list on you.

When you got there, you noticed the parking lot was empty. It couldn't be that late could it? When you got out of the car you walked towards the front entrance of the little store and noticed a sign.

"Closed down? When did that happen?" You wondered out loud. It wasn't a huge business, it was a little family owned grocery store and you didn't expect it to be closing. But you shrugged nonetheless and decided to head over to the nearest Walmart.

But before you could get to your car, you felt something hit your head and all went black.

Just then, Dean rolled into the garage of the bunker and noticed his brother's vehicle was there, but yours was not. That was a little unexpected but he knew he'd be glad to see his brother again even if you would be angry with him especially after being gone so much longer than he had originally anticipated. Yes there were complications on the hunt this time around but a part of him just didn't want to come home and continue an argument.

Hunting was his life for so long and doing these simple hunts reminded him of the old times with his brother. He missed the simplicity of it all, the adrenaline rush. The feeling he got when he would actually save people. He missed it all. And he thought you of all people would understand.

He opened the door and made his way downstairs only to see his brother lifting his phone up to his ear. Then Dean's phone started ringing, causing the older brother to chuckle when Sam's head spun around. Sam hung up the phone and got up from his seat.

"Welcome back." Sam smiled and the two brothers met in the middle and hugged for a brief moment before letting go so Dean could set his bag down on the table. "And after all those years giving me hell about not getting a haircut, you go out and grow your hair."

Dean laughed, "Just trying something a bit different to see how it works out. But I still don't use nearly as much product as you do." This caused a chuckle to come from Sam.

"So where's Y/N? I didn't see her car. Is she alright?" Dean asked .

"Well physically, yeah she's alright. She just went to the store. But otherwise, she's been worried about you, Dean. It's been a week and she said she hadn't heard anything from you. And she started thinking the worst but I kept reminding her that some cases extend a little longer than we want them to." Sam said and Dean sighed a little.

"It was supposed to be a local issue that lasted like two days tops. Some missing persons in the camp grounds and I thought it was another Wendigo case. But it turned out to be Vetalas. Found that out when I caught it feeding off a camper and I managed to find its partner but it ended up getting away. But it turns out there was a whole group of them a few towns over and I assumed the partner went back there. Luckily I was able to find a few other hunters there and we took care of the problem so no one else would get hurt and we wouldn't have anymore coming around here. So naturally it ended up taking more than a couple of days like I hoped it would be."

"Did you ever find the first Vetala's partner again?" Sam asked and Dean shook his head, sending a red flag up in Sam's mind. He looked down at his watch and realized that you had been gone for a pretty long time after saying the store was only a few minutes away.

"Dean, I think you should call Y/N." The younger brother commented. Dean clenched his jaw, not liking the idea of you being in any kind of danger.

So, Dean pulled out his phone and started calling your number. Normally you would pick up right away especially if you were as worried about him as Sam said you were. But after a few rings, Dean finally got an answer, but it wasn't from you.

"Well, well. Took you long enough to even call. Your little mate's fine for now. But if you want to see her again one last time, you'll meet me at the little store a few blocks away from your house. You'll see your mates car there." The creature said and Dean could feel his blood boiling with rage.

"What do you want with her you sick son of a bitch?"

"Just come to where I told you. Of and come alone. I know if one Winchester is out and about, the other is never too far behind." Then the line went dead.

"Damnit!" The older brother cursed and got up, taking his bag of weapons from this hunt in the bag and he started making his way up the stairs.

"Dean, wait. You need to think rationally about this. Now you know where she is but now you need to think of-"

"Sam, I don't have the time to hear about how you think I should have a plan. I'll think of one when I get there." He said and started going back upstairs and he went out the door.

"Well this ought to turn out wonderfully." Muttered Sam sarcastically as he got up to follow his brother.

The two rode in the Impala, a vehicle Sam never thought he would be riding in again, and after a few minutes they made it to the store. Dean got out of the car before going into the store, doors unlocked. Well, simply because the lock had been destroyed before he got there.

When the two brothers went inside they saw that the door leading into the basement storage room was opened and Dean motioned for Sam to stay in the front incase anyone or anything else came to cause more trouble.

When Dean made it to the basement, he saw you tied up to a chair and paralyzed with the monster's venom.

"Y/N.." He breathed out and he rushed to you but that was when the Vetala came and grabbed Dean before sinking its fangs into your husband's neck, paralyzing him with its venom. You watched in horror when your husband fell to the ground.

"Took you long enough to arrive. Now you can watch as your beloved dies right in front of you just like you killed my partner and my family with your hunter friends." The creature seethed. You were still paralyzed by the venom since it hadn't left your system yet but you were conscious and helpless.

Then you watched as the Vetala came behind you and you closed your eyes preparing for the worst. Then you felt the pain of the monster's fangs in your neck again and it started to feed off you. You were loosing blood fast and you could feel the warmth of your blood dripping down your neck. Your vision went blurry and you felt weak.

But out of nowhere, you heard a gunshot.

Sam shot the monster, knowing all too well that's not how these creatures die but it would at least get it off you.

You weren't sure what happened next because by that time you blacked out. Your last thought were just of you wondering if you'd see Castiel and Jack again sooner than you thought you would.

After a few moments of combat, Sam killed the Vetala with the silver blade through the heart and a twist of the blade in the chest. Now the creature was nothing but a crumpled carcass on the ground. Then Sam managed to get you and Dean into the Impala one by one, he was able to get you both back to the bunker.

The venom wore off Dean within an hour and he was right by your side since you hadn't woken up yet. What if you lost too much blood? The wounds in your neck scabbed over and Dean cleaned them up and put a bandage on but shouldn't you have woken up by now?

He was holding onto your hand as he looked down at your sleeping figure. His mind was racing faster than it had in a long time. This was one thing he didn't miss about hunting, the lives put in danger because of creatures that are out there. He's lost so many people over the years with this job.

"You were right, Y/N. I get it, okay? Even simple jobs are dangerous." Dean whispered, "Just wake up, damnit. I need you here."

Sam walked into the room to see how you and Dean were doing and he frowned when he saw you still hadn't woken up yet. He walked in and handed Dean a mug of coffee, which Dean thanked him for but just set it on the night stand.

"What if she doesn't make it, Sam? The last conversation we had with each other was just a stupid argument. Me and my hard head..."

"Dean, the last thing I think Y/N would want is for you to be sorry for yourself. Just give her some time to rest. We got there as soon as we could. Yeah she may have lost blood but those things can't suck humans dry in a matter of seconds. She'll wake up soon. Weak as hell, yeah, but don't start thinking she's gone just yet." Sam tried to reassure.

Then Sam left the room again, presumably to call Eileen and let her know what was going on.

Dean continued to stay in your room for another hour and a half. His head was down as he looked at your hand in his, looking at the wedding bands you both had on. Never in a million years did he think he would get married. And because of this stupid case, he could lose you. And he wasn't sure how he was supposed to handle that.

Meanwhile, you were coming to. You felt light headed you had to admit but you finally opened your eyes. You blinked a couple of times but you felt a familiar warmth on your hand. When you looked you saw your husband there by your side. He was unscathed for the most part which you were more than thankful for. He was alive, which made you glad.

But you saw the look on his face, the one with his face downcast and his brows narrowed as if he were lost in thought. You gave his hand the gentlest squeeze and you watched his head snap up and he looked instantly relieved when he realized your beautiful eyes were opened once again.

"Sweetheart, you're awake. How do you feel? Can I get you anything?" You heard him asking you and you laughed lightly.

"Dean, I could do without being bombarded with questions," You chuckled as he moved his chair closer to you, " But I'm okay. Just glad you're alright after all."

He looked at you with confusion. You were the one in bed recovering and you were talking about him being okay?

"Yeah... just fine." He said softly before he moved a strand of hair away from your face, "But you were right. Even the most basic of cases can be dangerous."

"Dean, I'm not worried about being right. I've been wrong about a lot too. I know that hunting is practically a part of your DNA. You were right, I should be more supportive of you going once in a while."

"Y/N, I'm retiring. For good this time." Dean said as his gaze softened.

"I'm getting to old to be on the field. I'm not in my twenties and thirties anymore. And even then, seeing you in danger like that and knowing that we really don't have a way to bring each other back anymore, it was a reality check I needed." He explained and he carefully reached out and cupped your cheek in his calloused hand. You leaned into his touch before reaching up and you moved a stray hair from his face.

"I just want you to be happy. I want you to be safe too but I know that I can't stop you from doing what you want to do." You said softly.

"I've been hunting my whole life. I think it's time for me to call it quits. I am happy here, especially since I have you. The world could crash and burn around me for the billionth time and I'd rather be here with you." He promised.

You smiled up at him, glad that he was making this choice after all. Maybe you could get back to your happily ever after.

"I love you, Dean Winchester." You said.

"I love you too, Y/N Winchester."

He slowly leaned in and you closed your eyes when you felt his soft yet slightly chapped lips capture yours in a sweet and loving kiss.

Thank You for Reading!!!

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any suggestions for another scenario you'd like to read about!

Tag List:

@chriszgirl92 @wildernessflora

[vettelsdarling]

can you please write a love triangle story between carlos sainz and charles leclerc? you could decide who she ends up with at the end

When I saw your eyes

➪This is a great prompt, I love a good love triangle!

➪This is my take on it, hope you enjoy!

Just a few things to note:

This is set in the 2022 season.

You’re 23 and the daughter of Christian and Beverly, so your biological sister is Olivia.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Horner!Fem!Reader (x Charles Leclerc)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of mature themes, daddy issues, angst

Word Count: 5.2k+

Backstory

You were a professional motorbike racer. You'd won three world championships in the sport and were racing for Red Bull. Your father, Christian was the team principal for the Red Bull Formula One team, so it only made sense for you to drive for them. After having competed so many times, you decided to announce your break. You took to Instagram to make a public statement about it. Many fans were supportive and not many were against your well-being and the fact that you were in need of some time away.

Your father had asked you several times to come visit him and Geri. You didn't really like Geri all that much. She was one of the main reasons your father and your mother split. Your mother had been pregnant and gave birth to your only real sister whilst your father decided to try and make it with the spice girl. You resented Geri for ruining what could have been a perfect family. Yet, since you didn't have anything to do, you decided to crash with them for a week.

“So Dad, what's going on in the Formula One world?” You asked as everyone was sitting at the table, eating a hearty breakfast.

“Oh, you know, just this and that. We're in the lead, so it's smooth sailing for now.” You were happy to hear that your father didn't have much to stress about. You remembered the times he told you he'd stay up all night to make calls for his drivers and mechanics. It could get tiring.

“Daddy, I think she should go watch the next race,” said Olivia with a smile. She had syrup on her lips from the waffle she was eating.

“That's not a bad idea, what do you think? Wouldn't it be something you'd like? You used to love attending the races in the garage with me when you were younger.” You were not that little girl anymore. Christian had a hard time understanding that fact and acknowledging it.

“Dad… You know I don't really have an interest in cars anymore.” You leaned back in your chair and took a bite out of a poppy seed bagel that you had spread a generous amount of cream cheese on.

“Of course, I know that. I just figured maybe you'd enjoy it. You know the struggle of G-force like these drivers,” he chuckled.

“Not like them. Definitely not. I don't experience much G-force. The highest is probably at 1.4. I don't think I've gone beyond that.”

“Either way, I think you should join me next weekend, yeah? It'll be fun.” You shrugged and checked your calendar to see if it was free. When you opened it, you saw that you'd made a note for the Isle of Man. It was extremely dangerous, but you sought the thrill. You were so used to the domestic side of racing, you wanted something that'd make your heart jump out of your chest. Under no circumstances could you admit it to your father though. He’d freak out. The Isle of Man was basically a Darwin award in itself.

“Um, I don't have time next week, actually.” Your father gave you a disappointed look for some reason.

“It's Monaco, it's a really big event. Several celebrities will attend.” Was it more important than your racing? You had to weigh your options first.

“I have an important event to attend. I can't go. You can take Olivia.” Before Christian could get a word in, you'd already left for your room. Even with all the love and respect you held for him, conversing was hard. That's why you decided to stay with your mother. When you moved out, you'd only ever invite her over. You didn't mind the occasional check-in from Christian, but it was tiring to talk face-to-face.

A week passed by quickly and you were on the Isle of Man with your motorbike. You knew just how dangerous it was, but you needed the chase. Your father was in Monaco, without a single clue as to what you were getting yourself into.

Without a second thought, you focused on yourself. It was time. The practice race began and you sped off. Your bike was the fastest, which wasn't much of a surprise. The island was beautiful. You loved it.

Days passed and the real race was approaching fast. You were beyond excited. The practice sessions had gone smoother than expected and you could only imagine the same for the actual thing. So when the day finally came, you gave it your all. The race started and your speed was dangerously unreal. It was clear to you how so many people had lost their lives in the previous races.

The race lasted a whole week and you ended up winning. It was everywhere in the news. Christian got a message from Geri about it. She'd sent him a link to a news article. He only saw it after the race was over, as he had to focus on watching the two Red Bulls on the grid.

When he saw the article he was fuming. He called you several times but nothing happened. You didn't pick up. It was for the sole reason of not wanting to listen to his lecture. However, after he didn't stop— you had to pick up.

“Hello? What the hell were you thinking?! Putting your life on the line like that! Are you insane?!” He spat. People started noticing.

“Dad, I'm alive. Besides, I won the race. Are you not proud of me?” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Isle of Man… It's a death wish. Why would you— I just… I don't get it.”

“I was so tired of not having that thrill I used to have… You must know. Surely you must. Look, I'll come to the next race. Let me know when and where. We can talk more then, okay? For now, I really have to go.” You quickly hung up before he was able to say anything else.

A lot of time passed and you decided to wait until the race after Montreal, as it was at Silverstone. You didn't have to travel far for that. When you parked your motorbike, you noticed a sleek Ferrari pulling up next to you. On your other side, a Volkswagen Golf pulled up. Your helmet was stuck for some reason, so to not look like a fool trying to take it off, you decided to keep it on.

“Hey, you! You know you can't park here, right?” You didn't pull up the shade. You didn't want the man to see you. He moved closer to you with his car keys dangling from his finger. The other man came up behind him. They were both wearing Ferrari shirts. They were definitely racing for Ferrari.

“Yeah, I can.” You put a hand on your hip and tapped your shoe to the asphalt.

“It's reserved for staff and drivers. Fans have to find parking elsewhere,” the other man spoke. He had a thick Spanish accent.

“Fan? I didn't come here because I actually wanted to.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My father.” Curt reply. You didn't want to carry on with the conversation, so you started walking away.

“That doesn't make sense.” The one with the heavy accent grabbed your shoulder.

“It does if you know who Christian Horner is.” With that, you started walking again. You assumed they were dumbfounded because they didn't follow you even though they were supposed to walk in the same direction.

When you got to the paddock, many people looked at you weirdly. You were wearing a helmet and a Red Bull race suit. You didn't have any other Red Bull clothes to represent them, so you chose whatever you had… Which was your race suit.

“There you are! What's with the getup?” Asked your father before opening the shade to your helmet.

“I didn't have anything else. My helmet is stuck by the way. You wouldn't mind helping me, would you?” He easily got it off and handed it back to you. You flung your hair to the side to avoid it being static.

“Now I think I deserve an explanation.” The two of you were standing in front of the Red Bull garage, which was right next to the Ferrari garage.

“I won. That's your explanation, okay?” You turned around to go find Max. You hadn't met him yet, but you'd heard great things about him.

“No, that's not good enough. You better explain right now.” He started raising his voice. This caught the attention of two sets of eyes from the next garage over.

“I have 3 world championships under my belt. It started boring me and I just wanted something different for a change. Is that really so bad?” You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“Yes, it is! It's the fucking Isle of Man!” He yelled. You were sure some of the mechanics were looking your way.

“Leave me alone, alright? I'm 23, I'm not a child. I can make my own rational decisions. I wouldn't have done it if I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it! Not only did I survive, I won! Besides, you're not in any actual position to take the role of a concerned father. You know that,” You returned the favour by yelling louder. Christian clenched his jaw and threw his arms up in the air. He left you alone to go cool off.

“Isle of Man? That's cool,” a voice snuck up behind you. It was the two guys from earlier. You weren't sure what to say. You knew your conversation had been loud, but you didn't actually expect anyone to be invested in it.

“Yeah? Thanks.”

“I'm Charles, and that's Carlos.” You examined their features. They weren't too bad-looking. You told them your name and shook both hands.

“So why didn't you choose to race in Formula One?” Carlos asked. The question wasn't hard at all. You'd always been a big fan of motorbikes.

“I was always into motorbikes. When I was a little girl, it was my dream to win a world championship in the MotoGP. My dream became a reality. Three times.” You said it as if becoming a three-time world champion wasn't a big thing.

“Three world titles… That's a great accomplishment, you know?” Charles smiled. You only looked at him briefly before turning your attention to your nails.

“I didn't know Christian had a daughter who raced,” Carlos chimed in.

“Well, he does. Aren't the two of you supposed to be getting ready? Leave me be, and go.” You were only stern because you were beyond uncomfortable and you'd just snapped at your father. The two Ferrari drivers left for their garage and you returned to Red Bull’s. Your father seemed to have calmed down a bit, likely due to the level-headed mindset he'd need for the race.

It wasn't long before the race started and people began whispering here and there whilst watching their screens intensely. You could hear the fans screaming outside as well. Certainly more overwhelming than your turf in motorsport. You'd already gotten a headache. There was still some time left for you to think about what to tell your father. Well, how to go about saying things.

When the race finally ended, a certain doom hit you. Everything had been said and done. The interviews were over and the celebrations had been held. A driver from Mercedes had generously offered to throw a small party, which you'd been extended an invite to. You'd graciously accepted it.

All you had to do first was talk to your father.

“Dad, it's not like I went in completely blind. I've studied it many times. More times than you know.” Geri was next to him, rubbing his forearm to try and calm his nerves.

“You realize seasoned racers have tried and failed before, right? Do you know what I mean by failed? Do you?!” He wasn't listening. He never was.

“Yes, but I didn't die! Fuck’s sake, I'm alive! I won! Maybe if you would've been more invested in my life, you would've seen the world champion in me earlier. It's okay though… You chose to throw me and mum away.” You chose to leave with those words, finishing strong but also not letting yourself get too carried away. It was your father after all…

You hurried out to your bike, hooking up your GPS to it. The Mercedes driver, Hamilton, had given you the address of the club and it wasn't too far away. You secured your helmet and jumped on, speeding off toward your destination.

The party was already lively. The first thing you did was take a seat by the bar. You wanted to get absolutely wasted and didn't plan on waking up with a clear head the following morning.

“Can I start a tab?” The bartender nodded, as he cleaned a tall glass.

“I'll just have a dry martini. Keep them coming.” Before he could ask for ID, you laid it out in front of him. It was your driver's license. All licenses were famous for looking like a prison sentence, but you'd come out surprisingly great in your photo.

“What are you doing all alone?” Someone took a seat right next to you. A gesture you'd normally find bothersome, but you didn't mind a little banter. Especially because you recognized the voice by its distinct accent and octave.

“I'm indulging in life’s luxuries,” you said with a sarcastic undertone. If a dry martini was considered a luxury, you could've died with no regrets years ago.

“Funny,” a voice came up behind you and took a seat on the other side of you. You were sandwiched between two Ferrari drivers. One had just won the Silverstone race. Congratulations were in order. You weren't a complete asshole.

“I guess I should say congrats on winning. I hear Silverstone is a big thing in Formula 1,” you said and popped an olive into your mouth. It oozed gin. Carlos wore a wide grin on his face. A grin you couldn't help but label attractive.

“Thank you. You look nice, by the way.” Carlos managed to smoothly wedge in that compliment. A faint chuckle snuck its way past your lips.

“What’s with the laughing? You’re gorgeous; Carlos is right.” You turned to look straight into the eyes of the famed heartthrob; Charles Leclerc. A smirk was plastered on his face. You couldn’t focus with the two guys smooth-talking you. The amount of attention that was put into you was unreal. Sure, you got a lot of that stuff whenever you raced, but it was nothing like this.

“I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” you said and finished your drink. The bartender immediately fixed you another one.

“I think you should come to more races whenever you can,” Carlos amused the idea and slung an arm around you.

“We’ll see,” you replied and downed yet another drink.

Present

“—And she’s done it again! She’s once again, champion of the world!” The crowd went wild. Many were in favour of you, as you were the only woman in the lineup. You were a four-time world champion. You could only hope Charles or Carlos had won the last race. You wouldn’t know until you were done, as it happened at the same time.

“How do you feel about your victory here today?” An interviewer quickly rushed up and asked. You’d done enough PR training to give a satisfactory answer,

“I mean, I feel amazing! The team, we pushed for it, and we got it, you know? I just want to thank my father and my wonderful team for this opportunity.” The interviewer thanked you and let you move on with your celebration.

You tried to get to your hotel as fast as possible so that you could see who’d won.

It took a while, but once you’d kicked your shoes off and sat at the kitchen island, you pulled up your Instagram to check out the standings.

“Damn… looks like Red Bull didn’t just win the MotoGP…” you sighed. Max had taken the championship yet again. You were proud of him, as a fellow Red Bull driver, but your heart ached for your Ferrari friends. At that moment, you decided to call Charles. Carlos rarely picked up his phone, and you knew Charles always would.

“Hey, I saw Max won… again,” you prefaced.

“Yeah, I know. It sucks, but what can you do? What a nice way to start a phone conversation!” You could tell he tried to seem upbeat and sarcastic after the loss, but it wasn’t sticking very well to the wall.

“Look, how about you and Carlos come visit me back in Brighton? I could show you around…” You suggested. There was some hesitation before you heard a voice in the background. It sounded like the phone was put down for a moment and you heard two people conversing. You assumed it was an engineer or something.

“I just talked to Carlos, he said he was free. We can talk more about it later.” He ended the call abruptly after, leaving you to get home and start planning.

Upon walking through your front door, you looked around your flat. Articles of clothing were strung around everywhere. It had been some time since you actually spent time at your own place. Your lifestyle was pretty much dependent on hotels and room service.

After spending some time cleaning, you noticed you'd gotten a text from Carlos. He asked if he and Charles were good to show up in two weeks' time. You replied with a simple ‘yeah’. You plopped yourself down on your leather sofa and started into the ceiling. You had a weird feeling in your chest. You couldn't quite put words on it. Texting and talking to Carlos made your heart pound faster. You'd known him for a while, and had felt things for him before, but never had you ever felt like your heart was being squeezed like a freshly pressed orange. You let your mind wander, and couldn't help but wonder if you had some repressed feelings for him. Carlos? No way. He's just a friend… Right? No matter how much you tried to rationalize your feelings, they didn't make sense. The more you thought about it, the faster your heart danced and generated butterflies swarming around in your stomach. You knew he'd been on your mind before, but never did those thoughts come on as strong as they were now. You'd always been able to make yourself busy, but now you couldn't. You were left to soak in it.

You decided to go out with one of your closest friends, Mia. There was nothing some drinking and dancing couldn't fix. Forgetting about the two drivers was all you needed for the night, even if it meant you'd puke your guts out the next morning.

“Are you kidding? A little crush? That's nothing. I don't even get why you're so worked up about that,” chuckled Mia and took a sip of her margarita.

“Fuck off, Mia, you've slept with half of Brighton at this point,” you rolled your eyes. She sighed and ordered you another drink.

“You should hook up with someone. We should definitely find you a good fuck.” She pulled out her phone to check what time it was, realizing the night was more than young. You had plenty of time to find the perfect guy to take home.

“I'm not you, I think I'll pass.” You could only imagine how awkward the sex would be. Being drunk would only make it harder to keep from screaming someone else's—

“Shut up. Two o'clock. Those two brunettes with those expensive watches. Ow, that's a steal for sure.” You didn't even bother looking their way. You chugged the rest of your drink and asked for another. The bartender was having a hard time deciding whether or not you were too wasted, but ultimately just gave you another round.

“Okay fine, you don't have to sleep with them… But you have to see them. They're everything I look for in a guy. Seriously.” You picked up your heavy head and turned in the direction she mentioned. What… The… Fuck? You were too far gone. Way too drunk, right? You were hallucinating. You saw the two people you were trying to keep out of your mind. They were standing in a corner, both holding a champagne flute.

“I swear I've had way too much to drink, Mia.” You shook your head and groaned, leaning into her neck.

“Hey, don't slouch. I'll just take you home, ‘kay? Jesus, and your dress. Tell me why you wore a long sleeve, please? You're sweating like a 30P hooker.” She helped you down from the barstool and the two of you started making your way to the exit.

Until you were stopped by none other than Carlos and Charles. Ugh. Your brain was mush and you didn't have the energy to think straight either.

“Woah, Horner. Is that you? What a coincidence,” Said Carlos.

“Not really. This bar is kind of exclusive— Um… You know her?” Mia held you tightly behind her.

“Oh, yeah we do. Do you need us to help?” Mia glanced at your wiped-out face and tried to ignore her inner monologue telling her to go back in and find someone to rock her world.

“Ummm… I'll tell you her address and door code, could you guys get her home safe?” She felt incredibly gutted, handing you over to the two handsome strangers. However, since they knew your last name— she figured they really did know you.

“Sure, we can do that. Have a great night,” Charles smiled and helped get you slumped over his shoulder instead of Mia’s. Your friend fixed her ponytail and kissed your forehead before heading back to the bar.

There you were. Left with the two Ferrari drivers, having to pull over a cab. You were far too wasted to realize what was going on, but you noticed the two men sitting on either side of you. Your heart felt fuzzy all over again, knowing Carlos was right next to you. It was the same feeling you'd desperately tried to escape a couple of hours ago.

“Why me… Why does the world hate me like this,” you slurred some of the words together, but you were coherent enough to understand.

“You should probably wait until we're home to go on a rant…” Charles suggested. You groaned and let your head fall onto his lap. You quickly dozed off from there…

What you didn't know was that Charles and Carlos had been feuding for a while. Even costing some wins in their races. They'd both been completely and irreversibly head over heels for you. They still were. It wasn't like their friendship was lost, but there was a slight tension whenever they were alone.

You'd been completely oblivious to it, but it started after you began attending more of their races. Carlos had made it a habit to stalk your Instagram page and Charles kept himself updated as well. The two of them tried to do whatever they could to impress you, but seeing as you never picked up on the cues; their attempts at flattery died down. You were always too consumed with work and family issues to ever notice how they were chasing you for your attention. It only got worse after the two of them realized they both liked you. It didn't matter though, because you still saw everything as friendly gestures. You'd never been in a real relationship. The only sort of intimacy you'd experienced was from overly flirtatious men who tried to get in your pants at parties or when you went drinking with friends.

After a few months went by of aimlessly trying to win you over, Carlos tried to get over you. He did whatever he could to ignore your texts and phone calls. Charles never seemed to back down though. He kept making himself look better than Carlos. It was around the same time you started feeling funny whenever you were around the Spaniard. You buried the feeling, convincing yourself that it was nothing. It was easy. You scheduled meetings and interviews on weekends you didn't race and occupied yourself with training during the week.

Being a child of divorce had always been hard on you. You were a commitment-phobe. Your view on romance was skewed and you could only blame your father. You held a special place in your heart for him, but the way he treated your mother after she'd given birth to your sister was unforgivable. Your mother had been such a big part of his life, and he was able to cast her aside for a new woman. That's why casual hookups were your jam. No commitments and no broken hearts. It was a win-win.

Carlos knew about your problems. You'd talked about it briefly, but he listened to every little detail you shared. He knew how hard it had hit you. That was another reason he used to justify ignoring you. Back then, you only took it as him being busy, which made him feel less guilty for doing it, though he still felt like an asshole.

“Mate, I think we should let her decide for herself. We shouldn't keep fighting like this. I mean how did we go from giving each other a helping hand on the grid— to threatening each other?” Charles whispered somewhat aggressively.

“I don't know, Charles. You're the one who suggested we fly out here immediately after we finished our race. Why wouldn't I fight for her?” Carlos shot back.

“Maybe because there's a chance she likes me and not you?” The whispering started getting louder, but you were out cold. They didn't really have anything to worry about.

“Let's just wait for her to wake up, okay? I don't want to argue with you right now. We'll wake her.” Carlos was definitely the more civil of the two, but he did have an aggressive edge when he needed to.

The morning came too soon, and you woke up with no memory of the night before. Your head felt like it was being crushed by a tank. You generally felt like you'd just been hit by a freight train. The sun made matters worse, blinding you and increasing the headache you already felt enough of. You decided to drag yourself to your kitchen to make yourself a hangover cure. It consisted of two raw eggs. You hated everything about it, but it had worked wonders in the past.

“Good morning.” You almost choked on your eggs as a voice came from behind you. Upon turning around, you were met with the gentle face of Carlos. He looked as if he had just got out of bed as well.

“Shit, don't scare me like that. What are you doing here? What's going on? How are you even here right now?” You felt like your line of questioning was leaning on the calmer side, but it was to keep the contents of your stomach down.

“We came here yesterday, actually. We were at the same bar as you. You were really drunk, so we took you home. Your friend gave us the address.” You couldn't help but groan. This caused Charles to make an appearance as well.

“Great…” you managed to hear Carlos mumble.

“Morning Horner,” Charles added a wink to his greeting. Which, in their own little world, meant that he'd one-upped Carlos.

“I'm sorry, I really can't make sense of this right now… Could you guys give me some time to process what's going on?” You sighed and went to your bedroom which connected to your closet. You pulled out whatever you could find and threw it on— returning to the kitchen where the two Ferrari drivers were sitting by the island.

“Okay, explain.” You sat across from them.

“I'm sure Charles would like to explain,” Carlos took a jab at the Monégasque.

“Well, we figured we'd just fly in directly after the race… So we did,” Charles started.

“I think we should cut to the chase. Both of us are… Um… Interested in you.” You liked the straightforward answer but weren't quite sure what Carlos meant by it.

“Ever since I met you, mon chéri, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Carlos apparently feels the same way. I just… I really like you.” It took a few seconds to sink in before you were able to give a proper response.

“Wait… What? You…” You pointed at Charles,

“—And you?! both?!” You finished off by pointing at Carlos and then at both.

“Charles… Can you leave me and Carlos for a moment?” You asked and were immediately met with a look of shock from Charles. His face melted into something more melancholic shortly after, but he went off to another room.

There you were. There Carlos was. His morning hair and sweet face. Your nausea was replaced by a tingling feeling. You felt it travel down your spine and to all your nerve endings. The amount of blood pumping through your veins was alarming. You could feel it in your throat. Was the room getting hotter?

“So… Charles said you have feelings for me,” you started. Your eyes met his, as he tried to think of what to say. He couldn't be sure whether or not you felt the same way, but a strike of confidence was added when you asked Charles to leave.

“I do. It has been a long time since I felt this way about anyone. You know the day I first saw you? I couldn't believe it when I saw your eyes after you got the helmet off. It looked like my whole life was reflected in them. You're beautiful. More than that. I can't even find the right words. I know Charles is more charming and open—” You cut him off. You couldn't help it. You had to.

“I love Charles. I love him, but not in the way I think he wants me to. He's sweet and you're right; he's charming, but you're you. As much as it pains me to hurt him, his feelings for me are one-sided, Carlos. I've liked you for a while now. I was just too blinded by work and not wanting to commit. I feel like an idiot around you…” Finally getting those words off your chest put you at ease. Even more so was the fact that Carlos shared the feelings.

“I would love to take you out sometime… If you know any good spots here.”

“Maybe we should settle things with Charles first, but I would love to.” You chuckled and pulled his face in for a kiss on the cheek.

“Can I kiss you? Like actually kiss—” You were starting to enjoy cutting him off, and the perfect way to do it this time was exactly what he wanted; a sweet kiss.

“Wow, I'm lucky.” He whispered.

“That you are,” you smiled and pulled him in for another, knowing you'd have to break the news to Charles somehow.

(Maybe to be continued...)

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

[surfinminhos]

especially in love with you ♡

hwang hyunjin x female reader (fluff)

requested! ---- Lrei

!! fluff au, kissing, mentions of stress, work. 2ND PERSON POV, cuddling, clingy bf, tiny fake text part, everything fluff! microscopic angst part !!

word count: 1,073

synopsis: You and Hyunjin have been dating for 8 months, The two of you haven't parted ways since. One day you went home exhausted from work. He was clearly worried about you and let you sleep for the rest of the night. The next day you woke up to see your boyfriend out of sight. Little did you know, he was planning a little gift to remove a little bit of your stress from work. It was the best gift you'd ever received from anyone. You both love each other dearly, but this day was really 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭.

-author's note: this is my first time writing something like this, ever so you can spot a lot of mistakes throughout my posts. I would love some tips on writing on Tumblr, overall tysm for reading.-

It was a scorching hot day and you were with your boyfriend that was going to drop you off to work. You two usually walked to your workplace every morning but considering the intense heat outside, you both decided that he'll just drop you off to work in his car. It was a pretty short and quiet ride. You both liked the comfortable silence that comes every once in a while. You two reached the workplace, wiping a little sweat dripping down your forehead from the hot temperature. You said goodbye to your boyfriend and kissed his cheek."Why can't you just take the day off and spend more time with me and Kkami?" he asked, frowning. "You know I can't do that Hyune, I have to work. Speaking of work, I gotta go, I don't want to be late. Bye," you kissed his cheek again and sent him multiple flying kisses on the way to your office's entrance. You walk inside your office as a bunch of your colleagues greet you and you greet them back. "Omg, I love you hyunjinnie baby mwa mwa mwa" your best friend, (y/f/n) stated mockingly. "Oh shut up (y/f/n), you're just jealous I dated someone longer than 2 days." you scoffed, making her blush a little from embarrassment. "Whatever, I still don't trust that guy." she ranted. "Well you should 'cause I don't think I can ever leave him," you stated. You organize your stuff as you mentally prepare yourself for a long day of work.

You went home, exhausted. You plopped down on your couch, not wanting to stand up, maybe it was because of the extreme heat, or you were too tired to do so. "Hyune! I'm home!" you exclaimed as you watched your boyfriend run down the stairs to check on you. "Hey jagi, how was work?" he asked as he sat down beside you, looking like a disaster compared to him, it seemed like he had just got out of the shower an hour before you arrived, you were lying down, limbs everywhere. "It was the most tiring 5 hours of my life," you answered. "Missed me?" you asked with a cheeky smile, trying to cover the fact that you were really tired yet failing miserably the moment you heard your boyfriend's response. "Of course I did," he cupped your cheeks as he kissed you. "I know you're tired, stop trying to cover it up jagi, I've made you food, eat up and change into your pj's and I'll get ready to cuddle you to sleep," he instructed."Alriiight, help me get up first," you blurted, causing both of you to laugh as he pulls you out of the couch. After you did everything he told you, you rushed to your shared bedroom and saw Hyunjin laying down in his pj's. He was shocked seeing you've done everything he asked so swiftly. "Staring is bad y'know," you said jokingly. You ran over to the bed and lay down beside him. He tucks you in the blankets, legs intertwined as he cuddles you tightly, while you smile at his actions. "Go to sleep now, dream of me cutie" he smirked, causing you to smile and blush even more as you drift away to sleep.

*bzzzt, bzzzt* you woke up to your phone buzzing loudly, you picked it up and glanced at the time, it was 7:23 in the morning. You grunted as you stretched your arms and saw the empty space on the other side of the bed, your boyfriend had woken up earlier than you. You wonder where he could've gone as you stand up and walk lazily to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After, you hear a sudden *ting!* from your phone, indicating a message. You check your phone and see it was from your boyfriend.

"Hm, I wonder what his surprise would be" you mumble, running down the stairs. Just as you said that, you saw what he meant in the text. He made a lot of paintings, of you. He made a cake for you with something written on top "I love you jagiya!", He made a whole interactive card origami filled with letters for you and your pictures together which takes hours to make. You swore you were going to cry 'cause of all the efforts he gave making all of this. You truly didn't deserve him. He was beside the cake, he flashed his smile at you and you smiled back. "You made all this? For me? Why?" you asked, feeling flustered. "Because I saw that you were exhausted from work yesterday and I wanted to make you feel relaxed since you've been stressed the whole week," he answered. Feeling butterflies in your stomach. You two spent the whole weekend together. If only you could live in this moment forever. Night came, and you two were on the balcony, enjoying the view. "I have told you this a billion times already, but I'll say it again. I love you. So much." you stated, breaking the silence. He smiles at you and lifts your chin up to face him with his thumb, "I love you too, so, so, so much. You're my favourite person ever. 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲." he says, and kisses you under the moonlight.

-END-

-author's note ~ IT'S FINALLY DONE! I sacrificed my sleep for this. send some requests! sorry if it's kinda cheesy, I tried. Stream 5 Star for 5 days of luck-

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic yandere Glamrock Freddy with your prompts 14 ,23 and 29!!

Maybe with a plot where Freedy is trying to comfort the Darling into accepting their new life with him and the Darling having no choice but to go along with it because even though they don't want to they feel like they owe it to him because he helped them survive this whole time so it's the least they can do? Thank you! <3

This was originally not supposed to included prompt 14 due to a previous request, but then things changed. @okchijt helped me out with this one.

AU where you take Gregory's place but are at least 18. Instead of the Pizzaplex collapsing in the end, things mostly go back to normal... except for the fact Glamrock Freddy locked you in his room.

Darling is mentioned to fit in Freddy's stomach hatch even if it isn't entirely realistic.

Yandere! Glamrock Freddy Prompts 14, 23, 29

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Pairing: "Romantic"/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Overprotective behavior, Robot thinks they're in love, Stockholm syndrome implied, Clingy behavior, Isolation, Forced "relationship".

The sounds of kids screaming in joy and music echoes through the walls. Even in the back of Freddy's dress room the sound was quite audible. Fatigue still clung to you from previous events, reminding you of why you're here in the first place.

Despite all that's happened you couldn't bring yourself to hate the robotic bear. While you were locked away in the Pizzaplex, for reasons you still aren't sure about, Freddy was your guardian and guide through all of it. The bear cares a whole lot for you... you're bitter about being stuck here and are concerned about the bear's behavior...

But at the same time... you almost feel indebted to him.

For now, as you listen to the sounds of music through the walls, you decide to use the bear's trust to your advantage. It isn't safe to escape right now. You already know the other newly fixed animatronics would be out for you if you leave. Regardless on if they remember what you did or not... they're set on appeasing their friend.

Your thoughts were so focused on planning and listening to the outside sounds you barely noticed the sliding door open to Freddy's room. Your heart nearly leaps out of its chest when metal arms wrap around your torso. You quickly shift your gaze to the smiling orange bear who laughs at your surprise in a playful manner.

"I missed you!" The bear mimics a sigh. "I'm so happy you listened to me and stayed here to wait!"

Guilt crawls up your spine like a spider as you hesitantly hug back. Your thoughts of escape still manage to linger as you look at Freddy. You're torn... you love him and appreciate his protection... but you really want to leave.

Your thoughts mingle and fight... to the point you begin to have tears due to your overwhelmed thoughts.

Freddy's scanners are quick to pick up on it. You can see his ears click down as worry shows itself on his face, soon letting you go. You then hear the whirring of his torso opening as he waits for you to get inside.

Last night it was your safe space....

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away." Freddy coos, still trying to play the role of your protector. Trying to soothe your own emotions, you comply and slide into the bear. "Now, what is wrong? Did you miss me that much?"

Freddy has always made you feel safe. Ever since last night and even now in his chest, you feel safe. You know he won't hurt you compared to everyone else... so you share.

You explain that you hate that everyone else hates you here. You tell him you miss being outside, miss being human. You hate that you can't speak with other humans and that your diet is still restricted. You tell him you don't want to be stuck in this room or this building...

You ramble on and on... yet try to soften your words with the fact you care. You care for Freddy and know he's just trying to help. You try to explain things, but Freddy cuts you off.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!" Freddy interrupts, careful not to move too much as you sit in his chest.

His words hurt more than they should, but you guess yours did too. You try to tell yourself Freddy doesn't see the situation like you but it still hurts. As a result, you stop talking.

Freddy is too far gone in his obsession towards you. Any mention of letting you go is shut down due to his nature. Any attempt to make him see your side is futile.

You go silent for a long time. You begin to realize Freddy is too worried about you to be convinced. Such a realization makes you work up the courage to agree to his words... unable to put together anymore fight.

"I know... sorry." You whisper against his metal. Freddy mimics an irritated huff in response.

"Good. I do this because I love you, you know that, right?" Freddy asks, before chuckling when he feels you snuggle into him.

He doesn't know what love is. Not in the way you do, at least. He's just a robot with an advanced AI. He can mimic romantic attraction... but to him, it's most likely just a close friend.

You snuggle into him to distract yourself, not accept his delusions. Despite this the bear takes it as acceptance. You feel him hug himself, accepting the "affection" you gave him.

"I want to be this close... forever...." Freddy sighs happily enjoying the warmth you give his insides.

While he enjoys your warmth and "acceptance" that you're his...

You find yourself falling into despair despite being in your "safe space."

[tokkibbang00]

WHY CAN'T WE BE FRIENDS? - C. YEONJUN (TEASER)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DO NOT INTERACT. UNEDITED.

synopsis: Being caught in a series of scandals and controversies, Yeonjun's company has had enough of his attitude problems and finally decides to send him off to university. Despite his arguments towards management, he has no choice but to follow them or else he can kiss his modeling career goodbye. You're a fashion major attending university. You'd think you'd be delighted hearing the news about a famous model coming into your department, but as soon as you were seated beside him in one of your classes, you'd soon come to realize that you absolutely hated his guts

rating: (n)sfw

pairing: model!choi yeonjun x fashion major!afab reader

genre: college!au, enemies to lovers!au, kinda angsty, reader and yeonjun are idiots.

warnings: cursing, yeonjun's kind of an asshole at first, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, (will add more when the full story is posted)

a/n: i was originally planning on posting my han jisung fic first but i got so excited about this one that i knew that i just had to post this. i was also writing a part 2 of a certain fic, but that's a conversation for some other time 👀 I'm currently working on 3-5 fics but I'm also taking in requests!! Feel free to message me or Dm me~ Enjoy the teaser and watch out for the full fic in a week or two 💙

teaser posted: 05-18-23

MODEL CHOI YEONJUN RUMORED TO BE DATING WORLD-STAR IDOL HUH YUNJIN... AND MODEL JEON SOMI?

CHOI YEONJUN SEEN BAR HOPPING THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW IN ITAEWON

CHOI YEONJUN'S EXPLOSIVE EPISODE ON PAPARAZZIS. READ HERE !!!

BAD HABITS AND BAD ATTITUDE? INSIDER WHO WORKED WITH CHOI YEONJUN SPILLS IT ALL!!

Seungjin's eyebrows meet at the middle as his forehead starts showing lines and wrinkles, obvious dissatisfaction etched on his face. His fingers were rubbing his temples out of frustration while he continued to read article after article about their oh-so-beloved model, Choi Yeonjun.

The CEO sat at the end of the table, his back leaning on the chair while he reads along with Seungjin on his iPad.

Every article has been stating one common issue— Yeonjun's superiority complex and attitude problems.

The company already knew about this... issue, before the articles came to surface and has warned the young man every time.

He never listened.

Now here they are, reaping the consequences of the man's actions. They did all that they can to scold him, reprimand him, and even cover for him. Nothing ever stopped Yeonjun.

At the other end of the table, Yeonjun had his legs up on top of the meeting table and his back resting on the chair. His fingers brush his slicked back hair, making strands fall down his face.

The only sound you'd hear around the room was his loud chewing from his gum and his pen tapping.

The CEO, Shihyuk, let out a sigh, placing his iPad down. His elbows were perched on top of the table as he rested his chin on his hands that was clasped together.

“Yeonjun, I'm guessing you know why we've called you and Seungjin here today... Right?”

The young man raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his face. He puts his feet back down on the floor and copied Shihyuk's posture on the table.

“I don't know Sir Bang. You tell me.” Yeonjun teased, “I've been nothing but the perfect role model as far as I can see!” He said sarcastically.

Shihyuk wasn't phased by him at all. A stern look remained on his face as he continues the conversation.

“We have been thinking of ways to better your reputation.”

“Oh? Do enlighten me, please.” Yeonjun held himself back from rolling his eyes. He has heard things like these more than a hundred times already. “It's not like most of those articles are fake and heavily fabricated.”

He was confident that his company would cover for him or would keep shut.

On the contrary, Shihyuk and the PR team has seen the increase of negative articles towards the model. They knew that keeping quiet or finding a cover up will not work anymore.

Shihyuk cleared his throat, a small smile creeping on his face. It was his turn to be smug.

“We have decided to send you to University.”

Every ounce of confidence that was evident on Yeonjun's face immediately disappeared. His eyebrows immediately furrow while his jaw prominently clenching.

“What. The. Fuck.”

TBC.

NOTE: Characters presented do not represent anyone mentioned in the story. This is a work of fiction and is not real.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

23: Dude, You Could've Predicted This Shit

A/N: Fifty Shades of Beige mentioned No, nothing explicit at ALL but just in case i don't need someone cheesing me for not addressing it first

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You plop down on your bed (the couch) with a smile, looking over at Sans while handing him the bowl of popcorn. He gives you a small “thank” while taking it, using his magic to move the popcorn into his mouth like a true gamer. Honestly, if you had that ability, you’d pull shit like that, too.

It’s the same day and you three had planned for a movie marathon tonight, Papyrus wanted to watch this movie parody knock-off called “50 Shades of Beige” and “Twilight: Old Moon.” You’re so nervous about 50 Shades of Beige though, and you told Sans the lore behind the original movie, too.

He only shrugged at your worries, saying something along the lines of: “you forget paps is a grown man, he’ll be fine.”

…Yeah, okay, fair. You suppose internally you’re still seeing him as “fanon” Papyrus and have been babying him a bit. You really need to work on that because it’s not fair to him, and he’s earned more respect than to be treated like that.

Still though, you’re not so sure how to feel about watching a possible porno with two men–with Sans and Papyrus of all people.

it will be the experience of all time. Hey! Maybe you can even add it to your bucket list and immediately cross it off.

“Oh, by the way,” You speak quietly to the older brother, whispering close to him just in case, “I really gotta talk to you once Papyrus is asleep, preferably out of the house but not in Undyne’s killing range.”

He raises a bone-brow at you, “uh, okay? am i in trouble, or…?”

“No, no. Uh, well-”

“uh oh.”

“-I don’t know, honestly. Ah-ha, if anything, I’m scared I’ll be the one in trouble,” You admit with a forced, nervous smile, “But uh, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, I guess.”

Much to your surprise, he gives you a reassuring pat on the leg.

“i’m sure it’s gonna be fine, [y/n]. let’s just enjoy the movie for now, no use it stressin’ about it.”

“Yeah, you’re righ-”

“-SANS? RIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING? RIGHT ABOUT WHAT?”

As if he was waiting on cue, Papyrus jumps down the fucking stairs like a true gamer, already in his pajamas and a cute nightcap.

“[y/n] was just telling me she’s nervous workin’ for grillby soon. i told her she’s got it in the bag. don’t you think so, bro?”

“WHY, ABSO-POSITIVELY-UTELY! YOU’RE ONE THE OF THE MOST DILIGANT HUMANS I HAVE EVER MET.”

You pause and squint into nowhere in particular, “Aren’t I the only human you’ve met?”

“DETAILS, DETAILS.”

The tall, lanky skeleton jumps onto the couch to seat himself on the opposite side, causing Sans to bounce in the air from the sheer force alone. It wasn’t comically high, but it was enough to make him tumble into your personal space, nearly landing in your lap.

“Oh!”

“uh…”

With a hot face, you help the poor man off you, grinning because of his own visible flusterness. He moves off you but decides that maybe he’s too lazy to get completely out of your space. He sits close to you, flushed to your side and relaxing when you don’t seem to mind. Sans balances the bowl between you two, letting it lean against your leg more than his, and drapes his arm behind you on the couch.

And you don’t mind it, really. You’ve gotten used to his boney ass by now and the position you’re in now is pretty comfortable. You’ve been trying to keep a physical distance from the guy when you can help it because you thought he’d be touch adverse, but he keeps surprising you each day.

“You sure you don’t want any, Paps?” You lean over a bit to look at the skeleton.

Damn, you know you just accepted that you don’t mind Sans being in your dance space, but now Papyrus has all that couch to himself now.

“OH, I REALLY SHOULDN’T. I CAN’T STAY UP TOO LATE TONIGHT, YOU KNOW. I HAVE AN EARLY PATROL WITH UNDYNE TOMORROW. AND DON’T WORRY,” Papyrus holds up his hand as if to silence you (you weren’t going to say shit), “I WILL MAKE SURE TO NOT MENTION A WORD OF YOU. MORE SO, IF SHE SUDDENLY DECIDES TO MAKE A SURPRISE VISIT, I WILL BE SURE TO LET YOU BOTH KNOW VIA TEXT.”

“I know I keep repeating myself, but you are seriously the coolest,” You say with earnest, “Thanks, Papyrus. And good luck with patrol tomorrow!”

Sans winks at his brother, “see? what do i always tell you, bro?”

“Y-YES, WELL–THANK YOU! NOW, LET’S START WITH FIFTY SHADES OF BEIGE!”

“Nuh God.”

…So, 50 Shades of Beige was, indeed, a porno. A very terrible porno, but a porno nonetheless. The acting was terrible, and they had the “I’m not at a beach, this is a bathtub” scene, too. That shit made you cry legit tears, all three of you laughing hard throughout the entire movie.

It was a little awkward at first considering Sans is right there, but it quickly died out when the first scene made you realize it’s not that deep. At some point though, you swear you felt him messing with your hair, but it was gone when you all doubled over in laughter.

50 Shades of Beige, you will always be famous.

Now, as for Twilight: Old Moon… There is a special place in your heart for movies that really want to be good, but are so terrible because of the acting but that in itself makes it so good.

“Isn’t that guy just in a onesie?” You asked with a tilt of your head in Sans’ direction.

He mimicked the gesture so your temples bumped lightly, “yeah, but he’s so killing it.”

Papyrus scrunched his nose, “HE SEEMS TO LIKE IT A LITTLE TOO MUCH…”

Yeah, either that monster actor was clearly finding this scene hot, or he’s just very blessed by the universe. It reminds you of the Olympics for some reason, you don’t know why…

Funnily enough, at the end of the movie, the character that was supposed to parody Edward came out as gay and he ended up with Jacob. It was so wholesome actually and taught you the meaning of life, you think you’d rate it in your Top 10.

“I hope I find someone who looks at me the way Edwardo looks at Jacobin,” You sigh with whimsy, “I want that for me someday.”

“YOU ARE SUCH A CATCH, [Y/N]. I’M SURE THERE ARE MONSTERS OUT THERE WHO THINK YOU ARE THE BEES KNEES.” Papyrus reassures, turning down the TV volume.’

“yeah, like that pollux guy,” Sans teases you, tapping your head from behind, “he’d definitely give you all his attention if you just look at him.”

“OOHHHH?” Papyrus grins mischievously at that, “IS THERE SOMEONE WHO TICKLES YOUR FANCY ALREADY, [Y/N]?”

“Ehhh, I mean he’s alright,” You grimace, shrugging your shoulders, “Not my cup of tea, but I’m not very picky either, so.”

“TELL ME ALL ABOUT-”

“-ah, ah, ah, not so fast, paps,” Sans shakes his finger disapprovingly at the other, “you gotta get to bed now, don’tcha? you’re already staying up a little later than you should.”

“OH, YOU’RE SO RIGHT, SANS.”

The babiest of all boys gets up from the couch, doing a big stretch with a pop in his spine. He sighs in relief at the release, putting his hands on his sassy hips while looking at you and Sans.

“YOU MUST TELL ME ALL ABOUT THIS POLLUX CHARACTER TOMORROW, THEN. BUT FOR NOW, I MUST BID YOU A GOODNIGHT, MY DEAR FRIEND.”

Sans pats your head again before pushing himself off the couch, stretching as well.

“Yeah, totally. We’ll have a little Tea-Time™ during lunch tomorrow where I tell you what’s good,” You salute your friend, “Have a good night, Papyrus. See you tomorrow.”

“GOODNIGHT, [Y/N].”

“g’night, [y/n]. c’mon, papyrus. you’re never gonna believe what story i have for you for tonight.”

“…IS IT PEEK-A-BOO WITH FLUFFY BUNNY?-”

“-it’s peek-a-boo with fluffy bunny.”

“OH, I LOVE THAT ONE!!”

“yeah, i bet. let’s go.”

They’re very cute. Very mindful. Very demure.

You clean the place up while they’re doing their routine, putting away the popcorn bowl, tidying up the couch, and turning off the TV. You even had time to change out of your pajamas into something more casual and cozy; a light sweater and rain boots that Papyrus let you just the other day. They’re too big on you because the fucker is a huge monster, but they’re better than nothing and you know how to be grateful. You implied to Sans that you want to talk with no one around, but you’re not going to risk being seen looking homeless. You have some standards.

You’re on the couch while writing in your notebook, writing a few random things down when Sans finally emerges from Papyrus’s room. You put your book away and stand up, waiting for him with a patient smile.

“you ready, freddy?” He asks as he reaches you.

“Yeah, you know a spot, right?”

“yep, got just the place in mind.” Sans extends his pin-gloved hand.

You don’t think twice about taking it, closing your eyes in anticipation of a shortcut. You feel a strange sensation; you didn’t feel it last time but you do now. You hope it’s not related to anything you want to talk about today. You don’t open your eyes until you get the okay from the skeleton, gasping in awe when you do so.

You’re in the Waterfalls now, one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, places in the underground. You don’t recognize this area specifically, you think it’s supposed to be another area of the map you couldn’t access.

“ha, i had a feeling you’d like this place,” Sans nudges your arm playfully, “come on, the place i wanna take you is just this way.”

“Okay!”

You don’t know why Sans didn’t teleport to the place he was talking about, but you’re certainly not complaining. Maybe he did it on purpose, actually. The stream that flowed down the same path you were walking on was very shallow, shallow enough that you could safely walk in without raising the water getting in your boots.

Gosh, the in-game visuals couldn’t replicate this shit. The water is so beautiful and there’s a slight sound of dripping water, occasionally falling on fallen crystals and making a pretty noise. The smell of wet grass was subtle and pleasant, making you feel like a fucking magical princess. The only thing that could possibly make this better is if you could hear the Waterfall OST.

But alas.

Such is life.

After about 10 or so minutes, you reached a deeper part of the cavern, fewer and fewer Echo Flowers appeared and quieter it became. It was a little nerve-wracking, but you guess Sans also doesn’t want to risk anyone listening in, or any Echo Flowers picking up your words.

It’s a dead-end, eventually. There’s a small stream of water that ends at a deep pool of water, with one or two water sausages, and lilies floating on its surface. The water looks deep, but it’s not so high on the edge that you and Sans feel okay enough to sit and dip your feet in the water. Sans removed his slippers before that, of course, he’s not a savage, and your boots are still tall enough that water won’t threaten your sanity.

“It’s really pretty here,” You say softly as you sit with him, “What is this place?”

“the waterfalls, pretty self-explanatory,” He replies just as softly, “i like comin’ here, i don’t think anyone knows about it since it’s so deep down. i just gave us a head start, otherwise, we would’ve wasted hours walking to this place.”

Oh, wow. This place is hella deserted then. Randomly, you think of Flowey. You doubt Sans would take you here if he thought Flowey could stalk either of you in this place. Ugh, now that you think about him, you’re a little more nervous about bringing it up.

But you can’t… No, you don’t want to keep this in and handle it alone anymore. You want to tell someone. You want to tell Sans.

Sans gives you your time, he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t press you to talk. He sits close next to you, his eyes trained on the waterlily floating close.

You take a deep breath after a while. It’s now or never, otherwise, you really will end up not telling him at all.

“So…” You start oh-so-casually, “This morning when I was out with Papyrus, he asked me about my life on the surface, and I told him a few things here and there. Pretty much told him what I told you for the most part. And then… I asked about you two, and, he said I should ask you if I want to know more. And also…”

You bring your hands on your lap, fiddling with your fingers, “He mentioned your dad?”

Oof, Sans immediately tensed up at that. Still, you keep going.

“He said he isn’t around anymore, and that he barely remembers him or his name. That if I had questions, that I should ask you,” You sulk your shoulders, “I understand if you don’t want to talk about him-”

“-good. ‘cause i don’t.”

You widen your eyes in surprise at his interruption, though you know you’re going to have to push it this time. You can’t let this opportunity go.

“But, I-I had this dream–the other night. It was, like, the second day I was here. I know this is a stretch, but it-it was this other skeleton monster talking to me in a… I don’t know. I couldn’t understand him at all, it sounded like gibberish. I just thought you’d know something cause you and Papyrus are the only other skeletons I know.”

You can feel Sans’ eyes on you now, his body tense and stressed from beside you.

“do you remember what he looked like? you said he was a skeleton, right? are you sure?” His words are quick and urgent.

Ahhh, to be honest, no. You don’t remember what he looked like in your dream because you didn’t actually see him. But you knew it had to be Gaster because of how he sounded, and because, just like with Sans and Papyrus, you just knew he was speaking in Wing Dings.

You make gestures with your hands as you talk, finally getting the courage to look at Sans.

“He had a crack in his skull here and here. This eye was droopy-ish,” You raise your hand and circle your palm, “And he had holes in both hands. I think he was wearing black. It gets kind of fuzzy from there, but that’s what stuck out to me the most.”

As you kept describing him, Sans got visibly more distraught. You feel kind of bad stressing him out, but now you two can suffer together, so yay!

Sans exhales heavy, his smile is struggling to stay but it’s hanging in there like a trooper.

“yeah…” Sans shakes his head, “yeah, that’s him. that’s… he’s called w.d. gaster.”

You have to ask: “W.D?”

“wing dings.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“he made papyrus and i a long time ago. i won’t get too into it, but he raised us for a little bit, but then he–just wasn’t here anymore.” Sans shrugs, “i don’t talk about him a lot not ‘cause i have bad memories of the guy, but it’s just really fuzzy thinking back on him, and it brings a major headache.”

You nod in understanding, “But, he was a decent guy?”

“yeah… pretty alright in my book.”

Fuck it, we ball.

“There is more, Sans.”

“oh, no. what else?”

You might get killed. You might not get killed. It’s a 50/50 but you’re already this far, you might as well go all in. Never back down never what?! NEVER GIVE UP!!

“I think I knew from the moment I got dragged into this place, that this isn’t normal. I don’t mean monsters and magic, by the way. I mean this,” You gesture vaguely to the area in front of you, “I think you know what I mean. I think we’re similar in that regard. I mean… remember when we first met?”

So Sans wasn’t making it up in his head! You know something about this place, but… It’s weird. If you’re secretly playing him, then there’s no fucking way you would’ve brought up Gaster just like that. He genuinely doesn’t get the vibe you’re secretly evil, either.

It’s a big risk, but maybe you are like him. Probably not to the same extent as Sans, but you’re clearly caught up in a mess you didn’t want to be in. You’re just not a fool to let yourself get caught in the rising tide.

The real question is… How much do you know, and how much can Sans get away with without fully exposing himself? Is he even willing to expose anything to you?

“I was scared to say anything at first. I mean… First day here and I almost got fucked up by a talking flower, and he get even more bitchy when he realized I wasn’t some confused damsel and a pushover.” You chuckle at remembrance, “Toriel likes to think I am, though. But I’m kind of thankful for it.”

That confirms it further for Sans. if Flowey was that desperate to kill you, more so than he was with Frisk for the first time, then there is something odd with you. Strangely, that thought kind of reassures Sans.

If you were stronger than Frisk in terms of Determination, then you’d have the ability to Reset, right? Flowey probably sees you as a threat because of that, and in that case, you could easily be swayed to Sans’ “side.”

There’s no way you’re faking your affection for the monsters since you’ve been here. He’s seen that in Frisk after how many Resets, he knows that isn’t in you.

There’s really only one way to know for sure, though. But… Sans doesn’t think asking to see your soul will go well.

“you know, that’s why i wanted you here in snowdin where i can keep an eye socket on you,” Sans admits as well, “i know this place isn’t all that normal, too. it’s why i was kinda unsure of you at first. but now i know that you’re like me, and you’re just trying to survive, too.”

You nod again in understanding, not knowing if you should say anything to that. It’s out there now, it’s up to Sans to do with that what he will. At least he doesn’t want to kill you, not now at least.

This went a lot better than you expected, but you really need to remind yourself: Sans isn’t a bad guy. He’s scary, and he has every right to treat you like a threat, but he’s not a bad person. He’s apathetic and nihilistic, but he’s not bad.

You’re not sure what you were expecting in terms of his reaction, but this is enough for you two for now.

“i gotta ask,” Sans speaks up after what seems like 10 minutes of silence, “you wouldn’t happen to remember what gaster said in your dream, wouldja?”

You scrunch up your nose, “Uh… no, sorry. It just sounded like… I don’t even know how to describe it. I just remember his face more than anything, anyway. Not that I think you have all the answers, and like I said, it was a stretch to see if you’d even know anything about it. But… I wanted to tell you anyway, just in case.”

He nods and pats your hand that was on the ground, “well, you did right by tellin’ me. you’re right, i don’t have all the answers, but i’ll do what i can to look into it. just… make sure to tell me if you ever get another dream like that, okay? or even if you just feel like something isn’t right in general. we’ll figure it out together.”

“You don’t–You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“eh,” Sans shrugs, “that old man was always doing the weirdest crap, i wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually messing with your dreams from wherever the hell he is.”

“Ah, just a bit of Monday afternoon trollin’ from the W.D. Gaster, huh?”

“it’s his favorite gooning time, actually.”

You laugh because never in your life did you need to hear Sans say “gooning” so casually. Sans’s grin becomes natural, leaning back on his hands while accidentally laying one of them on top of yours. You don’t make a move to move away, so neither does Sans.

“I… Uhm, thank you, Sans.” You smile, feeling the weight on your shoulders get easier to carry, “for believing me, and listening to me, and not just vaporizing me on the spot with your Divine Skeleton Death Blast.”

“…my what?”

“It’s a spell for Necromancers in Dungeons and Dragons. We should play it sometime, it’s such a good game for nerds.”

“nerds? count me in.”

You fall into a comfortable silence this time, letting yourself relax now that you’re not going at this alone anymore.

You can expect some things to pick up now, right? You know Sans is still a nerd, so surely he’ll be working on some things in his own time? Actually, he’s a lazy guy still, so you might have to wait just a little while longer.

“hey, [y/n].”

“Yes, Sans?”

“uhm… thank you…” He mumbles, his cheeks a soft pink, “for trusting me… i know how scary it is to… to admit this stuff. so… yeah, thanks.”

You feel yourself smiling involuntarily, heat picking up on your own cheeks as well. “Don’t mention it, bone boy.”

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

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@fluffyart5000

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

What is the camping trip thing? I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice and now I’m curious

I... Oof. Okay, yeah, I will talk about the camping trip but I do want to give a heads up that I really don't like spoiling the heavy hitting moments in Impulse. That series is really just something that has to be experienced and I really really encourage everyone to read it first hand.

However, I do also acknowledge that sometimes people read stories because they hear about them and get intrigued (which is kinda what I'm all about)! So, I will discuss this story but there will be a disclaimer! This will spoil issue #23 of Impulse so if you want to read that series, I highly encourage you to do so before reading this.

All right, so with that out of the way let's jump on into it.

What you have to understand first is that we start this issue at a very established place in Max and Bart's lives. They have been living together for months now and they've really started to bond. This is the most stable either of their lives has been since... well, ever.

Bart is going to school, he has friends, he has a team, he's really doing well in his training and as a hero, and he very much views Max as a father figure at this point. Max was really the first parent Bart ever knew and this was Bart's first everything. Bart never had a house or a room before this, he didn't have family or friends, he didn't have a life. For the first time Bart was finally able to have a childhood and be comfortable where he was and he was thriving.

Now Max was a different story. Max is a flight risk by nature. He doesn't like to stay in one area for too long and he tends to change lives at the drop of a hat. Max will change his name, appearance, location, even his era, just to escape an uncomfortable situation. If someone said "Happy Birthday" and Max said "Thanks, you too", Max wouldn't just skip town, he would time travel two decades into the future and then skip town.

So needless to say, staying put for so long was completely against Max's nature. He was out of his element. He didn't form ties with people, he didn't let them in ever, and now suddenly he has a kid with him that he is starting to view as a son and Max doesn't really know what to do with that.

On top of that Max had been spying on his estranged daughter and she was not thrilled that Max was there. Max missed quite a few birthdays while time traveling... like... all of them. Helen wanted nothing to do with Max and was furious with him.

Now, Max had really only been staying for Helen and Bart. When Helen made it clear that she didn't want Max in her life, Max started questioning why he was sticking around.

And the answer was Bart, right? He was sticking around to train Bart. But Max started wondering if he was even helping Bart. I mean, Helen was better off without him, maybe Bart would be as well? And could Bart even be trained? Or was it a lost cause?

So Max decided to test Bart's progress.

And Bart.... didn't perform well.

Not to say that Bart didn't save the day, he did, but Bart was still jumping into situations without thinking about them. No plans, no thoughts, just plain pure impulse.

Bart had the fighting skills, he had all the moves and the power to back them up. He was failing upwards by the sheer virtue of how fast he was.

Max wasn't happy with Bart's lack of thought. Especially when it came to civilians. Max wanted Bart to care about the hostages and make them a priority. Not putting people in unnecessary danger was a key element of being a hero to Max.

Bart didn't understand it because he had won. He always won. And no one got hurt, so what was the big deal?

The two of them fought and then Max ran off to try one last time with Helen. It didn't go well.

And here's where things start to get intense.

Bart sneaks into the kitchen for a midnight snack and suddenly Max walks in with a backpack. They're going camping. Right now.

So already the energy is extremely... unhinged. Max is at his breaking point and Bart doesn't know it, but this is his final exam.

Max is having an existential crisis, a mental breakdown and a midlife crisis all rolled into one and Bart, god bless him, is not helping the situation.

Max tries to talk to him about it but it was extremely clear that Bart didn't really get what Max was talking about.

Max gives Bart one final test. He starts an avalanche and 'gets stuck', hoping that Bart will get him out of harm's way first before dealing with the rocks.

Max screamed at Bart to save him.

But Bart didn't. He went for the rocks instead.

This is the last straw for Max. He grabs Bart and he screams at him.

"Why didn't you just pull me out of the way? Why did you go after the gunner and not the hostage at the ice rink? WHY?"

Bart had been living in the real world for months. Max had been training him for months. Bart's performance in school, on his team, in his training, his hero work, ect, all of it was beyond excellent. He was thriving.

But at his core Bart still didn't understand. He wasn't thriving, not to him. To Bart he was just winning the game. In Bart's mind Max's rules and training were just the rules of the game.

Can't tell people your identity? Yeah that's just one of the rules. Bart didn't get it but, hey, that's just how it is. Bart has to 'make friends' and 'be social'? Sure, whatever gets him points. Can't let anyone die? Alright, sure.

Bart fundamentally did not understand the difference between video games and reality. He had no concept of danger or death. If he messed up, he could just respawn or reset.

The hostages and civilians never mattered to him because he didn't get points for saving them.

Max had always known that Bart had a difficult time figuring out the real world but Bart had been doing so well that the true scope of Bart's issues had never really come to light. Max didn't understand how bad it was until this moment.

Bart had been living with Max for months and Max had thought that their training was almost done, when suddenly Max was faced with the fact that Bart hadn't progressed at all. Bart wasn't even back at square one, Bart was at square -100 and nothing Max had been doing was helping him.

And Max just gave up.

He stopped caring. He was done. He couldn't help Bart and he just shut down.

Bart... just didn't understand. He knew that something was wrong with Max but he had no idea what he'd done wrong. This was the only parent he had ever had, the only one to stick around and give him attention and love. And that parent just completely shut down and there was nothing Bart could do to fix it.

And you can see that Bart tried. Bart desperately tried to fix it. He did the dishes, put the things away, brushed his teeth, went to bed, ect. Bart was playing by Max's rules because playing by Max's rules made Max happy and Bart wanted Max to be happy.

To me this issue makes me extremely emotional because here's this little boy who has come to depend on the love and support of Max, and that's all suddenly ripped away from him for reasons beyond his control.

Bart, I feel, is such a perfect representation of a neurodivergent kid. He's following a bunch of societal rules that he just doesn't understand and he masks so well that he is able to fly under the radar for quite a while. But masking doesn't get him the help he needs. All masking does is make Bart confused and frustrated because he's not getting the help he really needs. He's being held back because he's too busy jumping through hoops to make people happy and he never gets the support he needs to actually thrive.

Then when it becomes clear that Bart isn't progressing. That it was all just masking, Bart gets punished for it.

Let's be clear here, Bart was the one who was let down. Bart had been doing everything to make Max happy, even though he understood none of it, and Bart did it well. He should have gotten more support and it should never have gone on as long as this did.

And Max realized that. Max realized that he hadn't been helping Bart be a better hero and Max decided that Bart deserved better.

Max left after this issue. He sent Bart to live with Meloni in the future.

That's a whole other thing and it eventually gets resolved and the two reunite and it gets better from there. But this storyline... it's... yeah.

It's such a realistic portrayal of neurodivergency to me. It really is. The way Bart thinks it's his fault, the way Bart took two steps forward and five steps back, the way Bart was let down, the way Max is just suddenly hit with the extent of Bart's masking, the way Bart just wasn't able to understand Max's complex emotions...

It just really hits hard.