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ichorai · 2 years ago

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snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

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unacknowledgeable · 1 month ago

Text

Continued: Serial killer reader x yan!batfam

.........Ooooookay, I guess yall really liked my serial killer!reader? I guess I'm honor bound to continue??? Oh noooo, the horrorrrr. But seriously, I'm glad! Because it only gets worse from here! >:}

Anyway, this was really difficult to write because I literally could not find good starting and stopping points, I tried to make my thoughts flow into each other as seamlessly as possible but there's SO MUCH I wanna write for this, it��s eating me alive, (also like, feel free to send asks bc I get sidetracked a lot in my writing and looove just answering questions as jumping off points, so please gimme gimme)

That being said, enjoy!

WARNING for disturbing imagery, untreated mental illness and trauma, blood, and depictions of murder (seriously)

So obviously, this M/c is a serial killer, so how do they go about keeping this hidden while simultaneously living with the world's greatest detectives?

Simple, ya don't.

Okay so that's not completely true. Compared to the average criminal, you put in a lot of effort to not get caught, but the average criminal doesn’t live with THE Batman either

Compared to the rest of your family though? You basically put in the bare minimum required to hide your… unsavory activities

Of course, you'll wash your blood soaked clothes yourself, in the lesser used washrooms of the manor, but once in a blue moon, when you’re too tired to care or your catch of the night put up a greater fight then anticipated, you'll throw your tainted clothes in with the rest of the families

And they just… don't fucking notice.

Or when they do, they just assume that one of the others had an unfortunate run in with some criminal while in civvies

You've overheard many admonishments from Dick or Alfred over the years, telling Tim or Jason to “Please stop putting bloody clothes in with the whites, there's a basket for them two feet away!”

It was always pretty hard trying to keep a straight face when hearing those scoldings, but you always did, you didn't want Damian demanding to know what was so funny and dampening your mood

Or Cass giving you one of her calculated looks and suddenly getting nosy, that would make losing your clothes to Tim’s closet a lot less worth the laugh.

It’s just that, this assumption is waaaaay more plausible then say, the serial killer they've been tracking relentlessly for literal years, is just…tossing their VERY incriminating evidence in with the family's laundry, then passing out on some couch in one of the many sitting rooms of the manor, while the family goes out and discovers their latest victim

It's just easier to assume it was one of the others, Dick would never connect you, of all people, to the gore tossed haphazardly in the hamper, it's way more likely to be one of the many crime fighters of the family, not the soft spoken hermit of the manor, and even if that was a possibility in his mind, you don't even have a scratch on you

Not that he’s ever bothered to check you for injuries before, like he does almost religiously for the others

And Alfred? Well he's of the belief you'd grown out of your… tendencies, that it was a one time thing. Despite his reputation as an omnipotent presence in the manor, he never did realize just how deep your mental issues ran. Not until it was far too late.

You don't even have a specific weapon either, half of the time you'll just take one of Alfred's steak knives and hit the lower levels of Gotham, wandering around the decrepit streets till you found someone suitable

Other times, when you’re in an exceptionally bad mood, be it because Damian said something particularly venomous or Alfred missing an important event for you because something came up with one of your siblings, or even when your classmates decided it would be funny to key your car-

Or it's just one of those days

Those days when the abstract voices simmer louder in the back of your mind, pushing and nagging. Images that you desperately want to forget but can't help the need to recreate. All threatening to boil over until you either crumble into a sobbing heep on the floor or go out and do the one thing that has always been able to shut. them. up.

Those days you’re… forgetful

On those days, you forget to grab one of Alfred’s pristine knives, but that's fine, Gothams streets are littered with dangerous items, so there's no shortage of tools at your disposal. You're creative, resourceful, you can use whatever's on hand at the time, whatever's in reach.

But if there's nothing? No sharp objects, no discarded bricks or loose pipes or even a half empty beer bottle, well… you're no stranger getting your hands dirty

Those times however, are pretty hazy in the aftermath.

You’ll forget certain details, like how they gripped your arms in a vain attempt to draw your own blood as you drew theirs, in the event that if they dont get away, at least you'd be caught, (all it leaves are dark, tender bruises along your arms, that you'll spend weeks poking and prodding at, in the hopes of reliving that moment)

Or how they'd flail their legs, inches from the ground, trying to kick your legs out from beneath you (it was kinda cute, how much shorter they were then you, how little their attempts to free themselves did when it mattered the most)

Even their last, warbling pleas for mercy were lost to you. You know they said something, could vaguely recall that they spoke, too absorbed in watching their bloody lips turn blue as the oxygen in their body slowly ran out (No no please please…My girls are waiting)

No, no you don't remember much but what you do remember, what you always, always remember, are the eyes

You remember the tears, the fear, the acceptance, the rage, the refusal, the disbelief, the confusion, the indignation, and most of all the recognition.

Whether it be them recognizing just who you are or realizing that this is who will end their life, you don't know, you’ve never bothered to ask.

You prefer to think it’s the latter, it's hard to explain, but it makes you feel so so important

When it’s over, and the adrenaline in your veins soften, your breathing calmer, the blood rushing through your ears no longer so deafening, and you can feel the pleasing ache in your limbs, you sit, and asses the damage, as you always do

You always make sure to grab their wallet, take out the ID and memorize it, before gingerly putting it back, and finally walking away, head clear and numb in the cold Gotham air

There's no real reason why, its mostly force of habit at this point, it started with your very first kill, you don't feel like breaking the little ritual now, or anytime soon

It just feels wrong, to take a life and not even know whose life it is...was.

Later, long past any reasonable hour, you lay in bed, fresh out of the shower and thumbing the bruises, listening to the voices over the family's communicators (you stole one of Dicks, he has a nasty habit of leaving them around the manor) as they patrol the Gotham streets for crime and mayhem

You honestly can't help the small smile that graces your face, falling into sleep, as you hear the quiet, defeated sigh over the highly protected com link, “B, I've found another one, it's…it’s pretty rough tonight”

The pause is long before a small, gruff, “I have your location, ETA in 10 minutes”

You slept pretty good that night

Damn, sometimes the shit I come up with scares even me, again, feel free to send asks (shh I'm not begging), the brain worms are always hungry and I have sooooo many thoughts about this thing. lol

Hope you enjoyed!

#yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfam #yandere dc #gender neutral reader #gn reader #platonic yandere batfam #Serialkiller!reader #dead dove do not eat #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere bruce wayne #wtf this was 3 1/2 pages long dear lord

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itheunknown · 1 month ago

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odi et amo - (01) all i had

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

the wind was howling.

your bag felt heavy on your shoulders as you brisked through the night, flickering street lights as your only source of light. your phone died a while back, but it's fine since you knew every nook and cranny of the route from your workplace back to your aunt's apartment.

you've had a pretty shitty day so far: customers yelling in your face about things out of your control, your bicycle getting stolen (again) rendering you having to travel back on foot, and on top of that, you have exams coming up this week.

all you could let out was a tired sigh while trying to revise the material under your breath.

just as you're about to turn the knob of the apartment door, looking forward to finally getting some sleep before having to drag yourself to school that starts in a few hours, the door swings open violently and you stumble back, startled. the sight of your aunt gripping the door while holding a broken bottle greets you as she stands there with an unsettling and wild look in her eyes, her tone final.

“get in the car, now.”

sitting in gotham’s police department with the background noise feels distant, everything is incoherent, too much noise, too much light, just too much.

you feel hollow.

can’t wrap your head around the series of events that had just occurred, alternating between gnawing your lips and picking your fingers, the chatter zoned in and out as you just sat there, not knowing what was to come.

you don’t know how long you've sat there while the police were making phone calls and running through their data records of you after taking multiple different samples 2 days ago in order to decide where they should toss you to next. you’ve been placed under watch just so they could make sure there were no complications from the injuries you sustained, practically living in the station. it wasn’t that bad, the GCPD was well-insulated, safe, and you’re given food to eat for free (not that you can taste anything). it’s much better than being left to fend for yourself in the streets.

you know you should be planning on what to do next, but your brain feels like tv static, nothing making sense. you had worked so hard despite the circumstances you were in, tried to make the best out of the shitty cards dealt. you weren’t happy, but you were in control, you had a plan. work hard, save up, get a degree and move the fuck out of this godforsaken city. start over.

staring at the ground, a pair of shoes enters your vision.

“your labs came back, we got your DNA results.”

this was not what you had in mind.

you’ve never been in a car this luxurious before. the man who introduced himself as alfred, the wayne’s family butler, your father's butler, was seated in the front driving to your supposed new home. you stare outside, gaze unfocused, arms cradling your backpack close to your chest - your entire life in it: your school supplies and a few other personal items, while the rest remains at your aunt’s apartment - that is currently taped off by police and under investigation. eyes trained on the passing view outside, you feel bad for alfred who’s tried to strike up conversation to get to know you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to elaborate on your short responses. you hope he doesn’t take it too personally.

before you knew it, the car rolled to a stop outside the wayne manor. grabbing your bag, you trail behind the butler, the feeling of dread suddenly consumes your entire being.

“i do apologize for the absence of master bruce, young miss. i’m certain if he weren’t caught up with this current case, you would've received a personal welcome from your father himself", he gave you an apologetic smile.

you nodded in response, not really processing his words despite the tiny feeling of disappointment felt as you step foot into the grand yet empty manor. your presence a stark contrast to the fancy room you've entered.

however, you do look forward to seeing your new family: your father and siblings that alfred mentioned in brief, insisting for you to get to know them yourself while singing them high praises.

maybe this was the start over you needed. maybe you'll finally know what it's like to be loved.

you should've known then.

expectations only lead to disappointment.

you're tired, so very tired.

you're done.

nothing feels worth it anymore.

you don't have it in you to continue.

feet dangling off the crumbling abandoned building, you feel oddly at peace. everything is quiet. everything feels right, no responsibilities, no burdens, no more. you've decided.

for once in your life, you feel assured, this is the most optimal solution.

for once in your life, you're looking forward to something.

death must be so peaceful, lay buried within the earth, surrounded by silence. no yesterday, no today, no tomorrow. forget time, forgive life.

you'd be no more.

the wind is howling.

you stand up, staring down the steep drop. standing tall, unafraid, certain.

everything was quiet.

you're ready.

you shuffle closer to the edge, one foot hovering off as you will your other foot to do the same, fighting against your body's survival instinct. you're finally doing something for yourself.

"that's a big drop."

you stumble forward in surprise, nearly falling off until a hand grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you back further from the edge. you're stunned speechless, turning to see the source of the whistling voice.

"that's pretty ballsy of you, kid, i gotta admit."

this is embarrassing.

still unable to form any response, you let out a strangled noise in return as he let go of your shirt.

why the hell is one of gotham’s vigilante here.

an uncomfortable silence ensues, you don't know what to say, occasionally glancing up at the masked vigilante while you shifted your weight from one foot to another, feeling awkward.

just as you're about to try and weasel your way out of the situation, he beats you to it.

"nice spot! how'd you even get in?"

he asks casually while stretching and looking around. you don't know what to say.

"it's a still a weekday tomorrow , don't you have school? your parents must be worried you're out here."

your aunt is still waiting for you to return with your half of the pay for the rent. you have an assignment due tomorrow that's worth 10% of your final grade. there's nothing to look forward to.

"...i guess?"

now, you're uncertain, not knowing whether he genuinely didn't understand the implications of your actions or trying to lighten the severity of the situation.

he's uncertain.

he doesn't know how to approach this. he's never had to deal with this before.

you can tell by the strained smile and tensed posture that he also doesn't know what to do. somehow, you appreciate it. the situation is somewhat amusing now that you think about it. one of gotham's most dedicated vigilante standing in an abandoned building trying his best to stop a nobody from ending their insignificant life.

you almost let out a chuckle.

the vigilante bends down to pick up your discarded bag that was tossed to the side, handing it to you. you mumble your thanks, grabbing it and swinging it over your shoulders.

hesitantly, he places his hand on your much smaller frame. his voice warm and soft.

"go home. i'm sure someone is waiting for you."

you've waited for a year.

surrounded by the four walls of your assigned bedroom in the more cold, desolated part in the manor. you didn’t really mind, this arrangement was a blessing in disguise as it turned out, or maybe this arrangement was what turned you into the person you’ve become.

you don’t think you’re a great person, but you weren’t bad either, so you don’t understand why no one in the wayne manor would give you their time of day. sure, you were never reduced to begging for life necessities and having to bust your ass off at some sketchy restaurant working under legal age, while also balancing school work - this was objectively a far better environment for a person to live in compared to when you lived with your aunt.

but was it wrong to want to be noticed by your own family? against your better judgement, you dared to hope.

you hoped to feel the warmth and care of what being tied by blood could grant. you hoped for an embrace, you hoped for company, you hoped for compassion, you hoped for connection. you hope and hope and hope, all you did was hope, until your memory was mostly filled with what you hoped, until you finally understood you were with them yet you were alone.

you had no place in their life.

just like the day you first arrived, bruce wayne, your father, was always busy. a persona to upkeep in the public eye, an enterprise to maintain, and his children to look after, to be a worthy role model.

but not you, never you.

despite alfred’s effort in trying to arrange for you two to get to know each other in the first week, there was never time. you were trying to wrap your head around the drastic changes that happened, from the procedures of transferring schools, collecting what little belongings you had from the police station after the investigation, and quitting your job. meanwhile, bruce was still busy chasing leads to his case, determined that he was close to solving whatever it was. it took another week for you to stand in front of bruce’s door, wanting to formally introduce yourself and express your gratitude for taking you in, even if he was legally obligated to. when you finally saw him, you dared to hope. standing in front of you was your father, someone who shared your features. you see him, you see yourself.

you could never forget the look in his eyes.

it was clear he had no idea who your mother was, but it was fine, you didn’t know her either. your desire to get to know him was not returned. was this what having a father is meant to be like? he couldn’t care less about you. all he did was run you through the ground rules of the house, who to go to if you were to request something, to inform him if you needed anything.

you needed him to look at you.

tim drake was the next person you encountered, your slightly older brother. you hoped that with the proximity in age, it would be easier to connect to him. however, it always seemed like he was preoccupied with something more important, he could not even be bothered to pretend to show interest when you had introduced yourself. you felt small, both in the figurative and literal sense. he was undoubtedly intelligent and talented. you’ve seen the way bruce look at him, actually hold a conversation with him. he was deserving, nothing you could measure to. bruce actually looked at him.

why does nobody look at you?

then you ran into jason todd. to your knowledge, he does not primarily reside within the manor anymore, which would explain why you haven’t really seen him around at all. it doesn’t explain why your first encounter with him was assuming a burglar had snuck in through the window at 3 in the morning. you had nearly dropped your cup of coffee, hearing a brief commentary on how there was another caffeine addict in the house before leaving the kitchen with you still holding your breath in shock. you can’t form a solid opinion on him since you barely see him.

in stark contrast, you had met richard grayson, or dick. the ever sweetest and most amazing older brother that any younger sibling would dream to have. you do too, seeing how much of a brother he was to the other members of the house, but not to you.

never to you.

you’d like to blame him for blindly hoping for things to be different, with his empty promises when he accidentally runs into you while on his search for someone else, and small talk when he’s waiting for something. you catch your father’s appreciative glances towards him sometimes, when dick helps out with managing your siblings.

especially damian al ghul, your half-brother. you were excited to have a younger blood sibling, not that the others were any less important to you, but merely for the delusion that blood could bring you together.

blood meant nothing.

damian was introduced after you were brought in, and his last name was promptly changed into wayne. your encounter was different from the others, him being the only one that sought you out first. again, you had hoped. trying to hide your excitement, you had mistakenly thought he was different from the others, your flesh and blood.

it’s all the same.

damian had berated your existence, bringing up how you were so unworthy of being a wayne you had yet to receive your father’s last name. you stood there listening to everything he had to say. your flesh and blood.

you admired his strong personality and ability to assert what he wanted. you were complete opposites. it’s no surprise that that’s why he was worthy of the last name.he ended up being the one who had interacted with you the most, even if it was mostly him bullying you. secretly, you held him dear, seeing resemblance between damian and your aunt. he was your flesh and blood.

cassandra cain was yet another sibling you falsely assumed having something in common would bring you two closer. but at this point, you no longer had it in you to put effort in forming a connection with anyone else, worn down by the countless times you’ve been casted aside.

you remain in the shadows, watching them carry on their daily lives, watched the life you had desperately wanted to be part of but found it impossible. you don’t belong with them, you don’t belong anywhere.

their silence made you feel forgettable.

do you even exist if no one remembers you?

the wind is howling.

and so are the voices.

i don't think im a good story teller since i mostly wrote analytical essays ^^' hopefully it makes sense like who let them (me) cook?? likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

(TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :heh:

@confused-they @hoeinthehouse @heartjwonie @strwberryglass

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hyunjinsjeans · 6 months ago

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He knows (Lee Know ver.)

Chan ver. | Changbin ver. | Hyunjin ver.

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: You married your best friend. You knew each other like the back of your hands. Lately, he has noticed you're holding back on him, why is that? He couldn’t know! You haven't told him, have you?

Type: Fluff 🧸, suggestive themes (sexually explicit) 🙈, female reader 💃

Warnings: sexually explicit themes, mentions of pregnancy

Word count: 2347

AN: Listen...I- had to do this. I had to do this and it had to be somewhat smutty because it's Lee Menace-to-society Know. I hope you like it because I plan to do a version for each member. I'm not sure what came over me, but I'm having a lot of fun writing these so I might as well share.

Minho was mean sometimes. He could be cold if he wanted to, but he usually saved that for whenever he was annoyed or you pushed his buttons too freely. Even as he showed you that side of himself there was always more reservation with it when it came to you. It was something the boys noticed early on in your relationship, when you had joined Hyunjin in making fun of a little sound your then-boyfriend let out at the first sip of his morning coffee. While you got a dirty look and had his nose pretty much pressed against yours as he threatened to help you quiet down, Hyunjin received a firm shoulder grab and got a handful of tissues shoved into his mouth.

This is why you felt so bewildered at his actions when you arrived at the camping site and he was extra nice.

While he usually let you do things on your own, trusting you were a fully functional individual... he did not even try to take the lead and ask you to start unloading the car. Instead, he grabbed the things from the trunk and began setting everything down near the spot you had chosen for the tent.

You pulled the zipper of your jacket up on your chin and waited for at least one simple call for help from your husband. When you realized he would not attempt to hand you any of the bags you went to the pile of stuff to start setting up the tent.

You had wondered the night before if maybe it was not the best time of the year to come out here and have a weekend away from the city, seeing as snow began painting the streets white, but you two loved camping and the serenity that being in the woods brought to you. With jobs of your own it was difficult to find the time to pack up and leave for even a day. The truth was you two didn't have much time to dedicate to your favorite hobby. Once you started setting up, you were careful not to slip on the snow around you. Minho hurried to your side once the car was unloaded, smiling at each other you handed him some of the bigger pieces of metal that formed the large frame and working together the tent was up in no time.

"Hmm, it's going to be quiet out here tonight," you told him once you started gathering the things to set up the portable stove.

Minho nodded, reaching out to hold you and stop you from moving a finger. Your husband wrapped his arms around your waist and stood behind you, his eyes closed and he sighed in relief.

He could smell the subtle coconut scent from your shampoo on your hair when he placed his chin on your shoulder. A fresh scent reminiscent of flowers emanating from your neck from your favorite perfume. The combination smelled like home to your husband.

He loved to have you all to himself, even if it was only when work allowed it. You had your own job and he tried not to stand on your way and be supportive the way you were supportive of him. As soon as he knew he would have some free time he would let you know so you two could coordinate and stay home together. Minho had felt the weight be lifted off his shoulders the first time you tagged along to an event. That was when the penny dropped for him, he was most relaxed when you were there with him. The kids told him too once they returned from the trip and it became clear you were a fundamental part of his life. There was no going back.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he loved to monopolize your time. As much as you would give him space to do his job and talk to his fans through lives and events, he always came home to sit next to you and put his head in your lap while the cats cuddled around the two. He liked cooking for you at night whenever he was home first, and if you made dinner it was a done deal that he would do the dishes while you helped him dry them and put them away while telling him all the latest office gossip. To Lee Know you were home.

So yes, he was guilty of being selfish when it came to sharing you, he knew that. He was the jealous type, the only forgiveness he had was for his members and your families.

He was aware he would have to share you someday, he let his nose rub against your neck as he thought about it.

"I'm not so sure about that..." he snuck his hands to your sides and as his chin rested on your shoulder he tickled you.

Your laughter filled the air in a moment and you struggled to regain composure in his grasp while all he did was smirk against your skin.

"Minho! Please!" You reached for his hands and grabbed them, his relenting movements allowing it.

If he had to share you with anyone, who better than your own children?

"Oh, you love it…" He watched how you intertwined your hands with his, making him hold you again, and now you pressed your back to his chest. "comfortable?"

You nodded with a childish hint of joy in your eyes.

"It's been so long since we came out here," you pointed out. "when was the last time we went camping?"

Minho put his chin on top of your head, "before the wedding."

You hummed.

It had been more than a year then, you sighed and pulled away to go find the bags with the things to make dinner. Minho all but ran to get the heavier things out of your hands, mumbling an "I got it" before he started setting up. You helped him with as much patience as you could gather, then once the two of you began prepping the ingredients for a quick ramyon you laughed talking to each other about the going on's at work.

He liked to hear everything from you, you could recite a weather report and he would be mesmerized. And you loved to hear him too, always waiting for him to be ready to speak, he was eloquent in great part because he was honest, although sometimes he could sound mean if he spoke too quickly.

Either of you was the kind to beat around the bushes, which is why he had been so curious the last couple of days.

As the group finished preparing for their upcoming comeback, Lee Know realized you were acting weird... He saw the little envelope on the coffee table just a few days ago. It was some test you had done at the doctor's office, and he did not mean to snoop. It was lying there, in plain sight, and he did not think much of it as he pulled the papers out and read through them. At first, he thought he was not able to understand its contents, then he saw the doctor's handwriting and the quite specific instructions at the bottom of the last page.

Why didn't he ask? It had something to do with the way you hid the envelope as soon as you had a chance. And the fact that you never mentioned your visit to the doctor, or that you had blood drawn. Your husband wasn't happy you were hiding things from him, but he respected your privacy. So he told himself he would give you time to bring it up on your own.

By the time you were done eating dinner, he considered enough time had passed and you had said nothing.

You cleaned up while singing a silly version of one of your favorite songs. Lee Know kept his voice down to enjoy your playful and chaotic performance, it brought a big smile to his face watching you dance around the small camp.

The two of you decided to call it a night and get into your warm tent. Your husband let you get under the covers first and then crawled beside you, pulling you against his side. You made sure the fluffy blanket covered him well while you put your head on his shoulder, your left leg perched over his waist.

“Y/N?” He whispered.

He did not want to sound harsh, on the contrary; he wanted to be smooth as he eased into the topic.

You brought your left hand over his stomach. "Hm?"

Minho was staring at you with a side smirk on his face, one that made it seem like he knew something you did not. And he kind of did this time.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" He squeezed your thigh and you nodded in response, swallowing.

"You can tell me anything too," you reassured him.

Cute, he thought. It wasn't him who had something to say.

He brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek while his thumb caressed your skin.

"I missed this," he said.

You pushed yourself a little to the side and let your lips touch his in a short chaste kiss. With your eyes closed you kissed his plush lips a second time, this time his hand fell down to your jaw and neck, pulling you down against his hungrier kiss.

Your heartbeat quickened as you reciprocated. Your hands and knees found the plush covers and you held yourself above him, letting his tongue past your lips as he deepened the kiss. His hands found the hem of your shirt and hid underneath it, fingers squeezing your hips. You shifted your weight onto one of your hands and pulled away briefly to grab your hair and push it onto your left shoulder. Lee Know’s lips followed your own and he was propped up on one of his elbows soon enough, lips against yours.

You went to put a hand on his chest, to push him onto his back again, but he grabbed your leg and in a swift motion he had you flipped onto your back, his body now slotted between your legs as he laid kisses down your neck, finding the sensitive spot near your right ear. He gave a light nibble and heard you gasp. Your body reacted too, hips rolling against his in search of some friction.

Your husband gave in to his less noble needs and rolled his hips against you as well, this time you let out a moan at the sensation. Your hands finding his back and pulling him closer to you.

“What do you want?” He whispered in your ear. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You put your hand on the back of his neck as he continued to kiss and suck on your neck.

“You,” it came out as a shaky breath, but Lee know was being generous and he let it go.

“Me?” He smiled against your skin, feeling the way you pushed your body against his. “Hmmm, do you think we can do that?”

He rolled his hips against yours, his obvious boner pressed against your clothed core. Another moan left your lips and you went to cup his cheek and kiss his lips again. Lee know kissed you back, something in him found you endearing at that moment. You were clinging to him, he was sure he could make you beg but he didn’t want to. Not tonight at least. He had different plans.

“We can,” you assured him, eyes finding his brown ones above you.

He smiled at your blown out pupils, lust evident in them.

“Well, what did the doctor say about that?” He brushed his nose against your nose in what was a rare moment of tenderness from your usually quite rough husband. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my wife,” he gave your lips a gentle peck. “Or my baby…”

Your eyes widened and a pink blush washed over your cheeks.

“How do you know?!” You put a hand on his chest to push him back a little.

You stared at each other and Lee Know let out a light giggle.

“Take a guess, Jagi”

You blinked, "you found my results?"

Minho shrugged, "they were on the coffee table."

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a good five seconds.

"A-are you mad?" You asked, lowering your voice to an almost inaudible whisper.

Minho lowered his voice and shook his head.

"Not at all, why would I be?" he kissed your nose.

In fact he was a little proud of himself, proud of you. Deep inside he was excited about the prospect of showing off your round belly and have everyone know you were having his baby.

"…because we didn't plan it," you admitted.

He understood then that the reason why you had kept it secret was in part fear of how he would take it. Oh, if only you knew…

“Babe, I don’t care.” He said simply, “it’s here, it’s happening. We’re doing this.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to take my pill a few times while we were in New York an-“ you began explaining.

“Shhh,” he rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face, “it’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I know, I was there and I didn’t bring a condom so it’s not like we can blame each other. It’s fine. I saw the papers. All I’m worried about is that you are okay.”

“I am okay,” you gave him a small smile, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he sighed. “The doctor said the baby is fine too.”

“Hmm,” he nodded in content, leaning down to brush his lips against yours slowly.

You breathed in his scent, strong like pinewood and citrusy. Your lips followed his and you let his tongue enter your mouth, savoring each other in the silence of a quiet night away from the busy city.

————

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

#stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know fanfic #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #lee minho x reader #lee minho fluff #stray kids minho x reader

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brummiereader · 3 months ago

Text

Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.

[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]

" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.

"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.

"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.

Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.

How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.

" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.

" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.

" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.

" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.

" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.

" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.

How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.

" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.

And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.

You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.

"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.

Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.

Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.

" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.

Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.

Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.

" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.

Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.

And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.

In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.

Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.

With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.

" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.

" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.

"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.

" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.

With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.

But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.

"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."

One month earlier...

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.

"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.

" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.

" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.

Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.

" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.

"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.

Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.

Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.

" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.

"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.

Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.

"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.

" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?

" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.

"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.

Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.

" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.

As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.

" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.

" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.

"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.

"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.

" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.

" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.

Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.

Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.

Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?

" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.

" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.

"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.

"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.

Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.

"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.

"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.

No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.

" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.

"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.

Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.

"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.

"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.

Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.

" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.

" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"

" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.

"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.

" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.

" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.

"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.

Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.

"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.

" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.

" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.

" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.

" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.

"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.

"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.

" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.

" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.

" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.

" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.

" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"

" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.

" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.

" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.

Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.

" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.

Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.

" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.

" Follow her"

" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.

How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.

No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.

Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.

"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.

" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.

"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.

One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.

" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.

" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.

"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.

" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.

In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219

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amirasainz · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I love your work and have a request that I hope you could do whenever your free. Would you be able to write one where charles has a little sister and it's the monaco grand prix and the photographers won't leave her alone and starts getting anxious but charles and alex are there to help her get through it. I honestly like to read your work whenever I have free time to. Thank you if you are able to write this. ❤️❤️

Stop. This is so adorable. Thank you so much for your request, and I hope you like it!

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!

-xoxo

Under the Spotlight

The Monaco Grand Prix was always a monumental event, not just for Charles but for the entire Leclerc family. Racing in his home city, surrounded by the streets he grew up on, filled him with a sense of pride. But this year, things were a little different for his younger sister, Y/N.

At just 17 years old, Y/N was still trying to navigate her own life, balancing school, friends, and living in the shadow of her older brother’s fame. Charles had always been protective of her, knowing how overwhelming the spotlight could be. But with exams and school commitments, she hadn't spent much time in the F1 world lately. Today, however, she was determined to make it to the Monaco paddock right after school, even though she knew the chaos waiting for her.

---

It was the Thursday of the Grand Prix weekend, and Y/N had rushed out of school the moment the bell rang. She hurried through the streets of Monte Carlo, still dressed in her school uniform, and headed straight for the paddock. Charles had offered to send a car to pick her up, but Y/N insisted on walking—feeling a sense of independence. She wanted to surprise him.

As she arrived at the paddock entrance, her bag slung over one shoulder, she could already feel eyes on her. The photographers, always on the lookout for family members of the drivers, instantly recognized her. They crowded around her, snapping photos and shouting questions.

“Y/N! Over here, just a smile!”

“Y/N, are you here to support your brother today?”

"How does it feel being Charles' little sister at his home Grand Prix?"

The cameras were relentless, flashes going off in every direction, and the sea of voices became overwhelming. Her breath hitched, her palms sweaty as her heart raced faster than one of Charles’ qualifying laps. She tried to navigate through them, but there were too many, and she could barely see where she was going.

“Excuse me, please,” Y/N mumbled quietly, her voice drowned out by the clamor. She hugged her bag closer to her chest, feeling more and more trapped. The walls of people pressed in, the loud noises blurring together into one giant roar in her ears.

Suddenly, her chest tightened, and she felt the familiar pang of panic setting in. Her breathing grew shallow, each breath shorter than the last.

Just then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar figure.

---

Charles was inside the Ferrari garage, chatting with his engineers when his girlfriend, Alexandra, nudged him, her eyes narrowing in concern.

“Charles, isn’t that Y/N?” she asked, pointing towards the entrance.

Charles turned, his heart sinking the moment he saw his little sister surrounded by the mob of photographers. She looked small, vulnerable, and worst of all, he could see the telltale signs of her anxiety setting in.

“Shit,” Charles muttered under his breath before springing into action. “Come on, let’s go,” he said to Alexandra, his protective instincts kicking in.

Together, they made their way quickly through the paddock, pushing past people who were trying to get their attention. The moment Y/N saw Charles and Alexandra approaching, relief washed over her, but the anxiety still clung to her like a heavy weight.

---

“Hey, hey, Y/N!” Charles called out as he reached her, immediately placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His voice was gentle, but firm. “You’re alright, I’m here.”

Alexandra quickly moved to Y/N’s other side, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe. We’ve got you.”

Y/N nodded, trying to steady her breath, but the flashes continued, and the crowd wasn’t giving up.

“Alright, enough!” Charles raised his voice, turning to the photographers with a scowl. “Give her some space. Back off, now!”

Some of them hesitated, but a few persistent ones kept snapping photos until Alexandra stepped in.

“She’s seventeen, and she just came from school. Show some respect,” Alexandra’s voice was sharp, but calm. There was an authority in her tone that even Charles admired. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, realizing they weren’t going to get more photos out of this situation.

With the worst of the photographers gone, Charles quickly led Y/N away from the commotion, guiding her towards a quiet corner of the Ferrari hospitality area.

---

Once they were away from the noise, Charles crouched down in front of Y/N, who had slumped into a chair, still trying to catch her breath.

“Chérie, look at me,” Charles said softly, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “Deep breaths, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just like we practiced, remember?”

Y/N nodded shakily, following his lead as he demonstrated a few slow, deep breaths.

“In... and out,” he coached gently.

Beside them, Alexandra crouched down too, rubbing Y/N’s back in slow circles. “You’re doing great, jolie fille. Just focus on your breathing. Everything else can wait.”

After a few minutes, Y/N’s breathing began to slow, and the tightness in her chest started to ease. She looked up at Charles and Alexandra, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just... I didn’t expect it to be so much. I thought I could handle it.”

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to handle everything on your own. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You did great coming straight after school,” Alexandra added, her tone soft. “But next time, let us know when you’re on your way. We’ll meet you at the entrance so you don’t have to go through that again.”

Y/N nodded, feeling more grounded with them by her side. “I just wanted to surprise you,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Charles chuckled, sitting down next to her. “Well, you definitely surprised me. But no more surprises when it comes to dealing with that crowd, alright? They can be... intense.”

“You’re telling me,” Y/N said with a nervous laugh, though the tension had finally started to ease.

Alexandra smiled, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “You know, you can always text me, too. I’ll come running.”

Y/N grinned, her eyes softening. “Thanks, Alex. You guys are the best.”

“Of course,” Charles said, his protective tone still lingering. He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “And if anyone bothers you again, you let me know. I’ll deal with them.”

Alexandra playfully nudged Charles. “Alright, Mr. Overprotective, calm down. She’s safe now.”

Y/N laughed for real this time, the anxiety of earlier fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded her how lucky she was to have both of them—Charles, with his fierce protectiveness, and Alexandra, with her calm, caring presence.

Charles stood up, offering his hand to Y/N. “Come on, how about we go somewhere quieter? Maybe grab something to eat?”

Y/N took his hand, standing up and feeling much lighter. “That sounds perfect.”

Alexandra looped her arm through Y/N’s free one. “Let’s go. No photographers this time, I promise.”

As they walked together through the paddock, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful. The world of Formula 1 might be overwhelming, but with Charles and Alexandra by her side, she knew she could face anything—even the photographers.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x alexandra saint mleux x reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader #leclerc!reader #monaco gp #alexandra saint mleux x reader #alexandra saint mleux x leclerc!reader #paparazzi #xoxo babygirl 💋

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ssentimentals · 6 months ago

Text

seventeen members as love tropes: yoon jeonghan

fake dating

'and if only you looked me in the eyes, you'd see the truth - i'm hopelessly in love with you'

jeonghan is cool about this. he goes through his checklist: suit? check. nice bouquet of flowers? check. car keys? check. his logic? gone since the moment he agreed to accompany you on this event as your 'boyfriend'. painkillers for a splitting headache you're going to have by the end of this night? check. his sanity? gone, long gone. in all honesty, jeonghan doesn't think he's ever been sane since the moment he realized his feelings for you. you know, the ones that are very fit for a 'boyfriend' type but don't really fit for a 'good friend' type. anyways, jeonghan is cool about this.

'i am insane,' he says out loud, looking at his reflection in the mirror. he looks good because of course he does, this event is important for you and he'd rather eat shit than fuck up anything for you. 'this is insane.'

he spends next twenty minutes on his way to your house by assuring himself that everything is going to go well. so what that just the thought of having his arm wrapped around your waist has him squealing like a five years old boy? that hearing you call him your boyfriend has goosebumps breaking out on his skin? that having an opportunity to take care of you in a more romantic, intimate way has him shaking a little? and so what that when you walk out looking gorgeous his heart stops for a second? he is cool. jeonghan is cool about this.

'you don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,' you say, taking his hand when he opens the door for you. 'i'm so sorry for dragging you into this, hannie.'

'you owe me,' he jokes, throat tightening when you let him pull you closer. 'feel free to kick me in the balls if i say or do something wrong there.'

'noted!' you agree cheerily and god, he can just kiss you right here, right now. how is this not a crime for being so cute?! 'let's go then, my boyfriend.'

jeonghan's heart doesn't skip a beat at this because he is cool about this. and he tries his best to be there for you for the whole evening, turns on all of his charm to be liked by all the guests and poses prettily for all pics. your hand in his feels right, you leaning on his side for support feels right, him as your boyfriend feels right. you two fall into this 'fake couple' thing surprisingly easily, everything goes without a hitch - you glow, jeonghan stays right next to you and if anyone dares to tell him that it is not right, he'll commit murder.

'hannie, i never thought it'd be that easy with you!' you exclaim in his car, getting comfortable on the seat. your relaxed posture like you belong here, the way wind plays with your hair - jeonghan has trouble focusing on the road ahead. 'you are the perfect fake boyfriend, my friend.'

and that shouldn't hurt, right? only it does. a lot. jeonghan gulps, speeding through the streets. 'should i be offended that you thought i'd be anything less than perfect?' he asks, going to a familiar trope of jokes and laughs with you. 'you know me!'

'i know,' you agree, turning over to look at him properly. jeonghan notices how you frown a little and he points at the armrest. 'what?'

'painkillers are there,' he answers, watching you light up. 'you always forget to take them, silly. you know you get headaches from being exposed to loud voices for too long and yet i'm the one who always has your meds with me.'

you chuckle, grabbing water bottle from backseat. 'i know-i know! you are a life savior, hannie. really, you're so thoughtful, you'd make someone so happy one day.'

there it is. jeonghan thinks once, twice and- he's cool about this, remember? 'it can be you.' it's a red light, he stops and turns to you, calling out for all bravery he only has. 'that someone can be you. if you want.'

you don't say anything in the first tree minutes and jeonghan has half a mind to jump out of the car, but then you hiccup comically and bubble of tension bursts, making you both laugh. 'i-' you start and then shake your head in disbelief. 'wait, is this how am i getting my confession?'

jeonghan fears his heart will burst if he looks at you right now. instead, he grips the steering wheel tighter and mutters: 'you'll get a better confession if you tell me right now that you're going to accept it.'

'what a silly boy you are,' you say and it should be offensive, but you say it with so much fondness that he can't find this comment hurtful. 'of course i will accept it, hannie. you don't think i would've asked anyone else for this 'fake boyfriend' thing, right? i would've just gone alone.'

and it's -wonderful. sense of relief floods his system and hope bubbles in his stomach. 'i'm about to pull over and kiss you right now,' he announces, turning to look at you seriously. 'blink if you agree.'

you laugh and flowers in his chest bloom. 'i'm blinking twice just so you could be sure.'

jeonghan is very cool abut this situation, so he pulls over in the first corner and kisses you like a boyfriend would've kissed you. like he would've kissed you because he thinks title of 'boyfriend' is his for now and for ever.

a/n: squealing, kicking my feet. this is for all hannie stans, who are having hard time due to latest news. i'm here for you! 🫡 - nini

my other works are here

#seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #seventeen yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan seventeen #jeonghan #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan fluff #svt jeonghan #seventeen fic #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader

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irisinluv · 5 months ago

Text

Yandere x Time Traveler Reader

You could recite the rules by memory if you had to. You were read them before each and every time jump. The most important being- don’t do anything to alter the course of history, don’t let anyone know about time travel, and don’t stay longer than necessary. There’s a slew of other minute details to the rule book, time traveling is a delicate business after all. But you love your job, and you understand how important your work is. You see, history records are often sloppy. We do our best to put things together with old newspapers, books, and the occasional photo, but what if you could go back and meticulously record everything the exact way it was?

Well, historians realized they could utilize time travel to observe and document historic events and time periods. That’s where you come in. You are a field agent- dressed in time appropriate clothes, practiced in period accurate slang and culture, armed with a backstory, and ready to jump back in time to learn the things time has forgot.

You’ve done countless runs before, and this one is no different. Go in. Learn everything you can, and then get the hell out. You don’t stay more than a week, and whatever you do, you stick to your company drafted backstory if anyone ask. So, with this in mind, you wave to your team, and step back in time.

The 1920s proved to be more colorful than you’d imagined. Sure you knew not everything was in black and white… but you expected things to be a bit more drab. The streets were busy with old timey cars in each of the primary colors, women bustled down the streets in loose, boxy dresses with gorgeous patterns. You took note that maybe the 20s were onto something when you noticed the high waisted pants all the men seemed to be wearing. You’d certainly be recommending these slutty little numbers make a comeback.

Taking in all these details, you took a moment to enjoy being a tourist in a new time. This was your favorite part of the job- constantly exploring. You loved the freedom you had. Granted you had your rules, but you could go anywhere. Any time. It was fantastic. Ducking into a cafe, you took a second to inspect the menu before ordering, and taking a seat at a booth. You began people watching as you sipped your drink, taking mental notes of everything and anything that you could jot down later. Suddenly, you’re interrupted from your observations as someone slid into the seat across from you in the booth.

Sawyer saw you order and sit down, and was fascinated by you. You carried yourself differently than anyone he’d seen before, with a natural ease and confidence, yet he could see your eyes assessing everything around you with a slight hint of wonder that made him wonder what those eyes would say if they looked his way. After observing you for several minutes, Sawyer made his move.

You couldn’t help but feel comfortable about the man who slid into your booth and started chatting with you. It wasn’t against the rules to talk with people like this- it was often crucial in fact. As long as you didn’t do anything drastic like save or end their life, convince them of some major course of action, etc…. It often paid to have a friend in an unfamiliar time. So when Sawyer asked you if you had plans this evening…. You had told him you were free.

Now it’s a quarter to 6 and he’s picking you up at the hotel you’d arranged earlier in the day. You had a change of clothes already packed for the occasion, and were buzzing to see inside a real speakeasy during prohibition. Sawyer was prompt in picking you up, and it was only a short walk to a back door of a building. He was ushered inside and soon the two of you were sitting together, leaning close to speak as you sipped (rather horrible) watered down drinks.

You kept to your story- you were traveling from the countryside, and would be in town for the next week. Sawyer noticed, however, how much you steered the conversation away from yourself. You did so skillfully and he had to admire that, but you were secretive none the less. Of course, this only served to further fascinate the man. What was originally just a little crush began to turn into a burning need to know more. What were those calculating eyes of yours thinking? Why did you take everything in with such wonder, like you were committing every detail to memory? He had to know.

For the next several days, Sawyer acted as your guide through the city, showing you clubs and shows and the best places to eat. You found yourself genuinely enjoying his company, and it wasn’t hard to tell he greatly enjoyed yours- showing up first thing each morning to escort you on another adventure. You realized you needed to begin distancing yourself from him, however, as he was pressing you for more details about yourself, and was expertly dodging your attempts at redirection. So, with only a few days left before you had to return, you switched hotels. Went to a different part of town, and began looking into the affairs of a few businesses. You needed to round out your research more anyways.

Sawyer arrived at his usual time, only to find you gone. The hotel attendant explained you’d checked out early, and left no explanation. Sawyers heart stopped. You were the love of his life. He knows it’s sudden, and stupid, he hardly knows you…. But at the same time he feels like he knows you better than anyone else alive. In the few days you’d spent together he’d taken in every little detail about you. He could tell when you were excited or disgusted just by the way your nose twitched. He knew your food preferences, knew how to make you laugh, and just felt like he knew you on a soul deep level…. But you were gone. You’d left him….

You were taking note of the stock in a grocery store a few days later when Sawyer finally saw you. He didn’t approach, instead, followed you back to your hotel. He watched you through a sliver in the curtains as you pulled out a pad of paper and began writing. He watched until you fell asleep, and then slowly crept in through the window. He gently picked up the notepad, only to furrow his brows, confused. You were…. Taking note of the style of labels on soup cans, and the price stickers used? He looked around the room and saw a few other note pads, gently placing the one he’d grabbed back next to your sleeping form, he began snooping through the rest of your notes. You had pages and pages written about what you’d observed, meticulous notes littered with your own commentary and thoughts. And that’s when Sawyer realized the truth. He didn’t have all the details- but he knew you were from the future. You were from the future, and you’d be leaving him in less than 24 hours.

He knew he had to act. He found the small device you would use to return home- it was disguised as a watch, and tucked away inside one of your luggage bags. Holding the small object in his hand, he came up with a plan. Shooting one last look to your sleeping form, he made sure everything was as you left it, aside from your watch, which he slipped in his pocket, and then crept back outside.

The next day, you hustled to finish investigating the last few things your colleagues were interested in. You were walking down the road when you heard a familiar voice call out. Closing your eyes and letting out a soft curse, you turned to see Sawyer racing towards you with a grin.

“Hey! There you are! When they told me you’d checked out a few days ago I’d assumed you left! Glad I found you though! Did you lose a watch by any chance? I found it in the pocket of that coat you borrowed after the theater, it’s small and gold with some swirling patterns carved into it?”

Your eyes widened…. That was your ticket home. How the hell did you not notice it was gone?? You thank him profusely for finding it, and tell him that yes, it’s yours! He clarifies,

“It’s back at my place, I didn’t think I’d run into you so I wasn’t carrying with me. If you’d like, you can swing by my house with me and pick it up?”

Of course you readily agree- after all, you need to leave in a few hours, and seeing inside his house would be great for your research. So, you agree to go home with him. I mean you only had a few hours left. Saying goodbye for real this time wouldn’t hurt.

Sawyers breath catches as you step inside his house. Why does this seem so natural? So perfect? You, fingers lightly tracing the wood banister as you take it all it. You, turning to look where he stands in the entryway - God, he can imagine coming home from work, with you greeting him with a smile just like this. The only thing missing is a kiss. He blinks out of it as he realizes you’re asking about your watch.

“Oh, yes, of course! It’s just down here, follow me!”

He leads you downstairs to a partially finished basement. Partially finished is a loose term. It’s a usable area at least, a workbench in once corner, and minimal boxes cluttering the space. Instead, it’s relatively clean, there’s a few chairs and a couch set up. Far from a living space, but it’s certainly functional. You’re taking all this in when suddenly you’re pulled back wards, stumbling into a chair. Ropes are wound around your midsection, pinning your arms and torso to a chair. You cry out and squirm but he’s surprisingly fast and strong,wrangling your kicking feet until they’re tied to the chair legs. Soon, you’re securely bound to the chair, and he didn’t even have to knock you out. He finds it kind of adorable how easily he overpowered you if he’s being honest.

You cry out and ask him what he’s doing, demand he lets you go! But he only produces your watch from his pocket, and stares at it with curious eyes.

“So, this little thing is your ticket back, hm? I wonder what it’s like- your world. Your time….”

Your eyes grow wide. He knows. He knows you’re not from this time period. That’s breaking one of the most important rules. This in itself could have irreparable consequences to the course of history… what if he decides to use it? Decides to travel through time, un-trained, causing chaos!?

“Please! You have no idea the consequences this will have! You can’t use it! Please- there’s a way things have to be done, you could permanently alter the course of human history with the littlest misstep! The future depends on you letting me go and giving me that watch back!”

He steps closer to you and gently strokes your cheek, realizing you don’t get it. You think you’re tied up because he’s interested in the time traveling. You think he’s going to misuse it. Silly you. He’s not interested in traveling through time.

“Darling… come now. There’s no need to worry. I’m not going to use your watch.”

Your gaze turns confused as you look up at him, and he adores watching your eyes as you try to puzzle your way through this one. He takes pity on you and leans forward to press a kiss to your lips.

And then you watch as he drops and crushes your way home beneath his boot.

“The only future I’m interested in…. Is ours.”

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sugurugetoshairbrush · 2 months ago

Note

gosh i’m so loving ur stoner suguru stuff…u are so good i love ur work !!!!

tysm!! appreciate you for reading <3—think I’m obsessed with him [prev] [nxt]

tl;dr bong rips with stoner!suguru getou (gone wrong)

it’s not long before suguru invites you back to his place. first, he messages to check if now’s a good time. then, he’s calling to ask if you’re free next weekend. he mentions there’s going to be a block party on his street—an unofficial hempfest of sorts. according to him, the turnout is always huge, and this year, he’s supplying bud for the event.

“we’re setting up a mobile cannabis bar,” he explains, nonchalantly.

“flashy, easy to distribute from.”

apparently, the event is where gojo’s new strain, bleu dragon’s breath, will debut. “we’re not working the event,” suguru adds bluntly. “we’ve done more than enough in production; they can push the product themselves.”

you laugh at his tone. “what are you, some notorious drug lord?”

he brushes it off with a chuckle and says he’ll pick you up from work friday to avoid the traffic jam that’s sure to hit later.

“and,” he adds with a mischievous lilt, “we’ll pregame with gojo. he just got a new bong—we’ve gotta break it in.”

naturally, you’re down.

by midweek, you realize how big this block party really is when you see flyers plastered around campus. they’re everywhere—on bulletin boards, lampposts, your timeline—featuring bold graphics and a list of attendees: caterers, vendors, and a handful of local influencers.

the day of, suguru pulls up outside your job in his sleek black car, turning a few heads as you approach. your older coworkers eye the tinted windows, whispering amongst themselves.

he greets you with a warm smile as you settle into the passenger seat. “how was work, pretty girl?”

he’s wearing a black nike tech set—your favorite color on him, not that there’s much competition since it’s about eighty percent of his wardrobe. his hair is half-up, the loose bun framing his face just right.

you tell him about the ridiculous filing error that ate up your entire shift. as you talk, he takes your hand, brushing light kisses across your knuckles.

he gets a call from shoko a few minutes later, muttering an apology before answering. it sounds like some last-minute adjustments for the event.

by the time you reach his street, it’s buzzing with activity—tents going up, booths being set, a dj assembling his gear. suguru parks on a side street, and you walk the rest of the way to his building. inside, the energy is palpable, music blasting from the first floor.

upstairs, you hear the shower running and gojo belting out some song at full volume. suguru rolls his eyes. “obnoxious as always,” he mutters, leading you to his room.

you’ve packed a change of clothes in your work bag. setting it down, you hear a loud beep from the kitchen.

“that’s the sushi bake,” suguru says. “gojo’s idea. guy’s a munchies connoisseur.” he heads off to grab it from the oven while you change into an olive-green two-piece skirt set. after refreshing your curls and makeup, you find suguru divvying up the sushi.

“damn,” he whistles as you approach. he feeds you a piece, his gaze lingering. “tastes good, but not half as good as you look right now.”

his hands slide to your waist as he presses a soft kiss to your pulse point.

you hear another whistle, this time, from behind you. “that’s all you, suguru?”

you turn to find gojo, freshly showered, white hair damp and sticking to his forehead. he’s wearing light gray cargos, white adidas, and an azure zip-up that matches his eyes.

“if not,” he grins, “I can easily take over.”

suguru shoves his shoulder. “satoru, please—don’t push it.”

gojo giggles, pulling you into a quick side hug. “what can I say? It’s to be expected when you’re with a baddie. I’d know—I’m a baddie myself.”

you laugh. “I know that’s right.”

suguru groans, “I’m going to change.”

while he’s gone, gojo fills you in on the event lineup and gushes about his new bong, which sits on the coffee table. it’s sleek, with royal blue detailing, almost like a microscope. he tells you that the cannabis bar is going to be managed by shoko tonight, they hired toji, from the first floor, and his buddy as servers. he says they’re always in need of work, as gojo bluntly put it, “they’ll do anything for a dollar.”

when suguru returns in a black compression shirt and windbreaker pants, your brain stalls. the shirt clings to his muscles, accentuating the ridges of his abdomen and the curve of his biceps. he’s leisurely brushing his hair out with a paddle brush, framing his face, and you resist the urge to drop his drawls.

he grabs the bong and grins. “ready?”

the three of you pile onto the couch, gojo calling dibs for the first hit. he sprinkles the weed into the bowl before packing it down and lighting it. wrapping his lips around the tube, he inhales deeply. smoke billows, rising steadily as the water bubbles. when he exhales, his face twists in pain, and he erupts into a coughing fit.

suguru slaps his back. “it’s okay to cough, man.”

once gojo recovers, suguru takes a hit, inhaling sharply and blowing smoke out through his nose. he smirks. “just not built like me, satoru.”

gojo glares but says nothing. you take the bong next, asking gojo to light it. following suguru’s instructions, you inhale, the smoke harsh on your throat. you manage half a hit before passing it back, coughing softly.

“pulls smooth,” suguru says, finishing your rip with ease.

the session continues until you and gojo are slouched, thoroughly toasted. only suguru’s still going strong. you poke gojo’s side.

“you feeling it?”

he cracks an eye open, pupils hazy. “… yeah, you?”

you blink at him, grinning stupefied. you both dissolve into giggles, drawing a look from suguru.

“what’s so funny,” he runs his hand through his hair twisting at the ends, “giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.”

“you wish,” gojo wheezes. “your secret fantasy.”

suguru stretches, “it scares me that you keep adding yourself into the equation,” he stands and walks to the window, peering out. “we should head out soon.”

now that he mentions it, you hear the rhythmic thump of music playing outside, the muffled shout of the dj over the mic.

suguru taps the window, “I lent them my speakers, the sound output capacity is insane.”

you rise to your feet, reaching down to swat gojo’s shoulder. he glances between the two of you, his eyes heavy and bloodshot. “kaay~ ‘m ready,” he drawls.

as you shuffle out, suguru checks his phone.

“shoko says the bar’s a hit. everything’s running smoothly.”

“as it should be,” you murmur, slightly delayed, trailing him out the door.

outside, the street is teeming with life. cars are jammed along both sides, a few haphazardly parked on sidewalks or half-on, half-off lawns. people are everywhere—some lounging on car hoods, others weaving through the crowd. you catch sight of a few familiar faces from uni as you pass. the dj setup dominates the scene, blasting music loud enough to vibrate through your chest. the largest crowd is gathered around a black tent housing caterers busy with trays of food.

suguru steers the three of you toward the cannabis bar, nodding at familiar faces on the way. the bar is sleek, its emerald-green counter illuminated by a glowing marijuana leaf at its center.

behind the counter stands toji and another man, both in black muscle tees under matching green aprons. a long-haired brunette, presumably shoko, sorts through mylar bags behind them.

toji spots suguru and waves broadly. “my boy! appreciate you hooking me up with this gig. you really came through.”

his voice is louder than your nerves can handle in your current state, so you linger behind suguru, offering a small wave instead. shoko picks up a mylar bag—sapphire blue, sparkly, with a dragon head spitting fire in the corner—and starts discussing marketing strategies with toji’s partner. you’re about to zone out entirely when your phone vibrates in your hand.

gojo satoru has added you to a group chat

bongbros gojo satoru: what’s fr goign on rn XD

gojo’s timing is impeccable, and you have to stifle a laugh.

you: idk i fee l like im stuck you: can’t stop staring loll

gojo satoru: tryna figure out y toji & shui r working in wife beaters wtfff

you snort.

you: nah cuz y it look like yall hired former inmates from a reentry program

sugu: lmfaoao sugu: toji genuinely has no shame he woulda done it shirtless

gojo satoru: slut

sugu: guys fr though say something your starting to look weird af

you glance up to find suguru glaring at you and gojo while shoko patiently explains the menu to an inquiring couple.

gojo clears his throat, “looking good, toji. how’s little megumi?”

of all the things he could’ve said, that was the wrong one. suguru crosses his arms, and toji’s jaw tightens.

“actually, the boy’s doing good. his mom’s bringing him today. wanted to show him I can be a good father figure or whatever.”

“dad!”

as if summoned, a child barrels into toji’s side. he’s small, with spiky black hair and wide, curious eyes. his tiny fists clutch toji’s waist.

“didn’t think you’d be here,” the boy says. “mom said you were lying.”

toji groans, ruffling the boy’s hair. “don’t listen to her when she says shi–uh, stuff like that, kid.”

he fist-bumps megumi before ushering him off. “go run around, sport. saw some other kids out here somewhere.”

megumi spins on his heel and dashes off, shouting a cheerful, “see ya!” over his shoulder.

a dark-haired woman, her shoulder-length hair as wiry as megumi’s, approaches, hands on her hips. “now where did that boy run off to? don’t tell me you lost him already.”

you deadpan at suguru, who’s busy typing on his phone.

bongbros sugu: this is about to blow my high. how do we leave

gojo peeks at the screen and quickly improvises. “guys, nanami just texted me. he’s down the street. let’s go.”

without hesitation, you, suguru, and gojo slip away unnoticed, leaving toji and his ex mid-argument.

“good save, satoru,” suguru mutters, his hand settling on your waist as he guides you through the sea of people. you poke gojo in the back playfully.

“came up with that lie pretty quick.”

gojo chuckles. “no, I’m actually a terrible liar. he really did text me—he’s over there.” he points down the street.

suguru drums his fingers lightly on your side. “you go ahead. we’re grabbing drinks from the tent.”

gojo flashes two thumbs up and spins on his heel. “text me~!”

the turnout is massive. everywhere you look, people are holding emerald-green cups from the cannabis bar–thc infused drinks. the atmosphere is charged—friends chatting, couples dirty-dancing near the dj booth, laughter blending into the music.

in the catering tent, the servers are polished, dressed in slacks and tucked-in shirts. suguru orders a beer, and you ask for a frozen wine, craving something fancy. the drink is fruity and refreshing, a cold burst of relief in the humid air. you let out a content sigh.

“cotton mouth?” suguru teases, popping the cap off his beer.

“you don’t even know. feels like I haven’t had anything to drink in years.”

he chuckles, taking a long sip, his throat bobbing as he swallows. the sight draws your gaze for a moment longer than you’d like to admit.

suguru smirks and leans closer, his hand sliding down your back to give your ass a playful squeeze. “can’t have that now, can we?”

he kisses you, the malty scent of beer mingling with his warmth. your free hand moves to his arm, fingers tracing the firm muscle beneath his sleeve. the two of you sway gently to the music, the air thick with liquor, sweat, and smoked barbecue.

another kiss lands on your temple, tender and lingering, before your phones buzz simultaneously.

bongbros gojo satoru: guys guys guys guys gojo satoru: sports cars doing donuts gojo satoru: nanami’s got the lambo gojo satoru: djfojfjdsd

sugu: stop blowing our shit up

gojo satoru: D:

sugu: on our way

by now, the sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the scene, but somehow the energy has only intensified. hollers echo down the street, engines revving as the smell of burning rubber fills the air. suguru had mentioned nanami before—a childhood friend from their hometown. he’s a salaryman, and from what you’ve heard from gojo can be pretty uptight, but is insanely wealthy.

you spot gojo’s hand waving high above the crowd, his ridiculous height a beacon. as you approach, you see a yellow corvette drifting at the fork in the road, tires screeching, while onlookers cheer wildly.

gojo is leaning into the open driver’s window of a sleek green lamborghini. the man in the driver’s seat is handsome, with slicked-back sandy-blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and a jawline that could cut glass. you blink, wondering if everyone in suguru’s circle is preternaturally attractive. there’s got to be something in their water.

“ah, there you are.” suguru’s voice snaps you back to reality as he introduces you to nanami, who greets you with a polite nod and a brief, “pleasure to meet you. heard lots.”

gojo is grinning like a kid, egging nanami on. “c’mon, rev it! assert your dominance, nanamin~”

before you can roll your eyes, you feel a tug on your shirt. confused, you glance down and find little megumi, his lips stained blue from a popsicle that’s dripping steadily onto the pavement.

“hello, miss.” his voice is timid, and his big eyes flit nervously to the side. “um my dad told me to tell you that you look really pretty tonight. he said you should talk to him later.”

you blink, stifling a laugh as his cheeks flush pink.

“and that’s it. I only said yes so I could get this popsicle.”

he’s so earnest it’s hard to be mad at toji’s sleazy attempt to use his own kid as a wingman. you pat megumi’s head gently.

“thanks for telling me. you can let him know suguru will talk to him. now go enjoy that popsicle!”

the boy beams and darts off, leaving a trail of blue drips in his wake. when you turn back, suguru and gojo have joined nanami in the lambo, chatting casually. deciding to tread carefully, you pull out your phone to message gojo privately.

you: soooo toji’s kid just told me his dad thinks I look pretty. how mad will that make suguru?

gojo’s eyes widen as he reads the message.

gojo satoru: :0 come again?? gojo satoru: using his son is crazy work gojo satoru: but just tell him. he’ll prob just be annoyed

gojo is wrong. suguru isn’t just annoyed—he’s pissed.

when you relay the story to the group chat, suguru immediately gets out of the car, his jaw tight.

“I’m sorry, he did what?”

in hindsight, telling a cross-faded suguru wasn’t your best move. you try to downplay it. “it’s fine, just tell him off later. no big deal.”

suguru rolls his neck, drawing in a deep breath. gojo scrambles out of the car. “whoa, whoa, what’s going on?”

suguru hands gojo his beer and flashes you a deceptively calm smile. “I think I’ll talk to him now. he’s got some nerve.”

you and gojo exchange panicked looks before rushing to follow him as he storms through the crowd.

“toji!”

toji looks up from where he’s crouched by the bar, snuffing out a cigarette. he grins sheepishly, straightening up.

“hey, neph. c’mon, ’s all love. jusst jokes.” his words slur, he must’ve got into something despite working the event.

suguru doesn’t stop, an unreadable look on his face.

“stand up.”

toji chuckles nervously but rises to his feet. “no hard feelings?”

suguru tilts his head. “where’s your son?”

“two streets down with the neighbor ki—”

THWACK.

suguru’s fist connects with toji’s cheek in a brutal arc. gojo curses, spilling beer on your top as he stumbles forward.

“shit, shit, shit!”

toji staggers back, clutching his face, but suguru doesn’t advance. he exhales slowly, his voice low and sharp. “you’re fired.”

toji scoffs, but before he can retort, megumi’s mother shouts from across the yard, “now, toji, I know your sorry-ass didn’t just lose another job—”

gojo grabs you by the wrist, steering you and suguru away before the scene escalates further.

his grip is firm, unfaltering, as he weaves through the crowd until you all regroup behind a tricked-out silver nissan. suguru leans against the car, running a hand through his hair.

“sorry, guys,” he starts, his tone low and tense. “I shouldn’t have done that. he’s been disrespecting me all week.”

you shoot him a sympathetic look. “I don’t care about the punch—it is what it is.”

gojo snickers, folding his arms. “honestly? someone had to do it.”

“but,” you continue, your voice soft, “what about the bar? you don’t want this mess tied back to it.”

suguru sighs, nodding. “you’re right. I should go back, smooth things over. shoko already texted me the numbers—we’re good to pack it up early.”

gojo glances down at you and his eyes widen in realization. “shit, I didn’t mean to spill beer all over you. I can take you back to the apartment so you can clean up.”

you look down, grimacing at the sticky fabric clinging to your chest. “yeah, it’s starting to get gross.”

gojo extends his hand out, palm down. “sounds good. okay, bongbros—on three!”

suguru visibly cringes, briefly cupping your cheek in his hand before heading back toward the bar.

gojo pouts dramatically. “rude.”

the apartment building is eerily quiet, with most tenants likely still outside. now that you’re away from the thumping music and roaring crowd, you realize your ears are ringing.

on the elevator ride up, you and gojo start debriefing the night’s events, laughing at how surreal it all felt.

“I still can’t believe it,” gojo says, shaking his head. “he just—boom! punched the shit out of him.”

you’re giggling when you trudge inside. gojo flicks on the lights and immediately flops face-down on the couch.

“jus let y’rself into sugu’s room f’clothes,” he mumbles into the cushion.

in suguru’s bedroom, you peel off your soaked top, smoothing out your skirt—which, miraculously, stayed dry. you grab some wipes from his dresser to clean the sticky residue off your chest and arms before rifling through his closet.

you settle on one of his white button-up shirts, the fabric loose and soft as it drapes over your frame, the hem brushing the top of your skirt.

gojo calls out from the other room. “hey, I’m gonna run back downstairs—sugu says toji and megumi’s mom are in a drunken spat. gonna check on the kid.”

“go ahead,” you reply, sprawling across suguru’s bed. his scent surrounds you, and in the quiet privacy of his room, your body finally relaxes.

the dizziness from being crossfaded creeps up on you, making you feel hot and languid. catching your reflection in the mirror, you notice how disheveled you look—hair tousled, the button-up hanging loosely off your shoulders, revealing a hint of your lacy black bra. your skirt has ridden up just enough to tease the matching panties beneath.

your phone buzzes.

sugu: you okay? sugu: sorry again. sugu: if you want to leave, I understand.

you: sugu I’m not mad

sugu: were you able to change?

you smirk. lifting your phone, you lean forward slightly, letting the shirt hang off your chest just enough to entice. angling your phone, you snap a couple photos.

you: 2 attachments sent

you watch the text bubble appear, then vanish, then reappear.

sugu: fuck. sugu: you look so fucking good. sugu: my pretty girl.

you: you like?

sugu: so much. sugu: I’m almost done. want me to join you?

you: that’s not all I want…

you record a voice memo, your tone low and sultry. “I want you to come up here and undress me, sugu—I need you.”

you hit send, watching as he saves the audio. for a few agonizing moments, nothing happens.

then a notification pops up—not from suguru, but from the group chat.

bongbros gojo satoru: OMFG gojo satoru: LMAOOAOAOAO gojo satoru: SUGURU’S PHONE JUST CONXECTED TO THE SPEAKER

your stomach drops.

gojo satoru: sounded sexy btw gojo satoru: sugu please don’t punch me 4 that^

you: the whole message played???

gojo satoru: nah, just the first 2 secs

you: omg

gojo satoru: LMAO sugu just had the dj start scrubbing a track so it seemed like part of the set gojo satoru: his face is so red

sugu: almost just had a fuckign heart attack sugu: my phone auto connected to bluetooth

you: I’m sorry suguu :( you: <3

sugu: <3

gojo satoru: <3

sugu: satoru

gojo satoru: :P gojo satoru: guys megumi is gonna stay over tn his parents are having drunk make up sex in the backseat of toji’s honda gojo satoru: I was keeping him distracted with games on my phone were coming up now

sugu: me too i feel fried

by the time gojo returns with megumi, you’re completely drained. you help him set up blankets and pillows on the couch while megumi disappears into gojo’s room with his phone.

gojo flops onto the couch dramatically. “I just�� can’t.”

smiling weakly, you drape a blanket over him before returning to suguru’s bed. shedding your skirt, you collapse onto the comforter, exhaustion pulling you into a haze.

suguru slips in quietly sometime later, flopping on top of you.

you wheeze, tapping his arm. “can’t. breathe.”

he rolls to the side, cradling your face with his hands. his dark eyes soften as he presses gentle kisses to your nose, forehead, and cheek.

“you stayed,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with relief.

“of course,” you whisper, smiling.

suguru pulls you into his arms, his chest flush against your back as his lips brush against your neck. his warm, steady presence lulls you into that foggy space between wakefulness and sleep—until his lips press slow, deliberate kisses along your neck, and you let out a shaky moan.

his fingers twitch against your waist, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. “that’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs.

his hand moves with a desperate sort of hunger, tracing the curve of your breast before slipping beneath the lace of your bra. when his finger grazes the metal of your piercing, the mix of cool and heat sends a jolt through you, drawing out a whimper you can’t contain.

“so sensitive.”

his tongue drags a wet stripe up the side of your neck, and his foot hooks around your ankle, guiding you to straddle him. his palms slide down your thighs, spreading them as he pulls you flush against him.

“you drove me crazy tonight,” he breathes into your ear, voice laced with want. “your voice message… so needy.”

you nod, squirming as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging playfully.

“say it,” he demands softly.

your bottom lip slips free from your teeth, likely raw from all your biting. “need you so badly, sugu.”

the desperation in your tone has him groaning low in his throat. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, his breath fanning against your skin. “but you gotta be quiet for me.”

his fingers find your clothed clit, moving in maddeningly slow circles. your breath stutters as you nod weakly in agreement. his pace quickens, and his tongue flicks teasingly at the shell of your ear, making you momentarily forget how to breathe.

“baby, you’re soaked,” he whispers, his voice tinged with amusement. “these panties are drenched.”

he slides his fingers along the fabric, slick from your arousal, and you squeak when he skims over your clit. his hands spread your thighs wider, one steadying you while the other pulls your panties to the side.

“be a good girl and stay quiet,” he instructs, pressing two fingers inside you with deliberate slowness.

they’re thick, filling you to the point of blissful ache, and the sensation draws breathy, shallow moans from your lips.

“shhh.”

his fingers curl inside you, seeking the spot that has your thighs trembling. he sets a steady pace, each motion purposeful. between his hot breath, the mounting pressure in your core, and the obscene sounds of your wetness, you’re overwhelmed.

your release builds fast, slick gushing around his fingers. you whisper his name, fighting to stay quiet, even as he speeds up. his free hand finds your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles.

“feels good?” he asks, the rasp in his voice nearly enough to undo you.

you manage a stuttered, “s-sugu, feels so good—ah, ’m close.”

“already?” he teases, his smirk audible. “gonna come for me? come all over my fingers?”

his words are your undoing. your stomach tightens, and you gasp out, “sugu, gonna—”

before you can finish, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you teetering on the edge. a strangled moan escapes, muffled when he clamps his hand over your mouth.

“shhh, baby.”

your tongue darts out to lick at his palm, and he groans low in his chest. his fingers flick over your clit, and you shudder as he pushes them into your mouth.

“suck.”

you obey, wrapping your lips around his fingers, the taste of yourself flooding your senses. he continues working you, fingers stroking deep inside, drawing out your climax. your walls flutter around him, your muffled cries vibrating against his fingers as you ride out the waves.

when you finally catch your breath, your body feels languid, boneless. he withdraws his fingers with a wet pop, leaving a string of saliva between them and your lips.

“you did so well for me,” he coos, pressing soft kisses along the side of your neck. his hands smooth over your skin, tucking your panties back into place as he cradles you against him.

the buzz of satisfaction hums in your veins, and his words blur into the haze of post-orgasm bliss. as he rests you on your side, his touch soothing, sleep pulls you under. the last thing you think is his name, whispered like a prayer.

[@tojisth3rdwife consider this my formal apology for bum!toji]

250 notes · View notes

starsofang · 8 months ago

Text

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / part 7

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, don't wanna spoil but just be aware!

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Good things don’t last. And both you and Simon were about to have a cruel reminder.

Simon stuck around after the two of you had shared the intimacy of a kiss. He didn’t let it go farther than just that, and neither did you. In fact, the rest of his time spent cooped up in your apartment was rather quiet and calming, despite the events that had taken place.

There was still fresh blood on his hands. He had let Ghost take over his senses and consume him in a blind rage, only to return to you as Simon, rage simmering into a flutter of calm.

Simon felt like he was lying to you. And truthfully, part of him was. You didn’t know about the realness of his job or what he did. You didn’t see the knives he embedded in unexpecting men and women, or the droplets of powdered poison slipped into their glasses at parties. You were blissfully unaware of the true nature of his being.

Simon couldn’t exist without Ghost, but Ghost could certainly thrive without Simon.

Ghost could also live without you. No – he’d have to live without you, at some point. Simon just didn’t want to.

He was being selfish and he knew it. He was taking advantage of a woman who had no business being involved with him, yet his heart was unable to let you go and finish the job, the job he’s always been destined to do until death did he part.

Simon had been lying to you, and now, all of it was crumbling down on him.

Price’s text stared back at him from the brightness of his phone screen. It was like staring into the eyes of death, causing his chest to fill with a sickening tightness that made it hard to breathe.

“We need to talk. You know where to meet me.”

So he left you. He made sure you were fast asleep in the comfort of your bed, sheets pulled up to your ears, and he selfishly allowed himself a minute to stare down at your snoozing figure. So peaceful, you were, eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes fanning beautifully across the tops of your cheeks. Your mouth was parted with puffs of air exhaling from your lips, ones he had pressed kiss after kiss against the night before.

Selfish.

The streets were busy as he walked, yet the impending doom that hung over him like a storm cloud muted the sounds and circled him in a bubble. He didn’t hear the chatter of people passing by, nor the cars that revved and honked from the roads beside him.

It was a cruel silence as he went, like his mind was shutting down all aspects of life in a cruel reminder of the ones he’d taken away.

Price resided in a remote apartment complex, one that showed just how much he worked for what he did. Killing people, just like him, but taking on a role on the side of watching over him as well as Gaz and Soap. Brothers they were, all of them, and now Simon feared he was fucking up the dynamic by being greedy.

“Ghost,” Price greeted as he opened the door. Simon gave him a curt nod and entered the residence, following behind Price.

The man in question was silent when he made way to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea. He offered Simon none in return, and Simon knew it was his subtle way of showing disappointment.

“Let’s chat,” Price mused, gesturing with a hand for Simon to join him in the living room.

Simon sat with his fists on his knees, back straight as a board, as Price sat in front of him in a much more relaxed state, leaning back and resting an ankle on his knee. He sipped at the tea, eyes boring into Simon’s.

“You fucked up, Simon.” Straight and blunt, cutting right to the chase. It stuck into Simon like a bee sting. “Killin’ a man outside of a job. Killin’ him of your own free will.”

Graves. The memory of his body, stabbed ruthlessly in his kitchen, his blood puddling the floor in a red mess, staining Simon’s skin an ugly crimson that he spent lifetimes scrubbing off. Mutilated, mangled, completely unrecognizable, all from Ghost’s doing.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?” Price roared, displaying the layered frustration he had kept abay up until now. “This is your job, Simon, our job. You kill to get paid, not kill for your own pleasure.”

“I know.”

“You know, and still did it.”

“I fucked up.”

“Damn right you fucked up, Simon,” Price sneered. He stared at Simon with a look of anger, before it simmered down to one of muted frustration, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. He pressed his fingers to his eyes, squeezing them shut, before dropping his hand back down. “You need to let her go.”

“Who?” Simon asked, and Price scoffed.

“Don’t be coy. Gaz told me everythin’. Had Soap follow you around when you killed that Graves guy, saw you go back to your little bird’s place. You know who I’m talkin’ about.”

Fuck.

He’d been sloppy, all because of you. Simon never, in all his time of being a hitman, missed the feeling of watching eyes following him around. He never missed the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the feeling of something or someone watching, observing, never missed the shiver running down his spine in a cold chill.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ game, Simon–”

“I know–”

“--yet you’re playin’ it like it is. This is a civilian’s life we’re talkin’ about, and not only did you kill Graves without payment, but you haven’t clipped your damn bird of her wings like she wants.”

Every single word was a harsh slap to the face, and Simon hated to admit that Price was right. He had rejected the job offer you’d given him from the very beginning. You wanted to die, you wanted to seek safe haven, yet he took that away from you. He wanted to save you, wanted to show you that life had meaning in its own ways, yet where were his reasons to stay?

Simon was a fucking hypocrite. Both to you, and himself.

“You know what you have to do, Simon.”

Simon stared at Price with eyes narrowed in confusion. He studied the firm lines that littered Price’s face, the way his mouth tugged into a frown, nearly covered by his facial hair. The tea he nursed was now growing cold in the presence of his lap, one hand curled around the handle with a white-knuckled grip.

“You can’t possibly ask me to do that,” Simon scoffed.

“I am, and I will. You either let her go and forget she exists, or you kill her off like you were intended to do in the first place. If you can’t handle it, then I’ll have Soap do it. Your choice.”

Price was giving Simon an option, though really, it wasn’t a choice at all. Either way, Simon would lose you, and he’d be forced to toss you aside like worthless garbage, or be forced to see the life drain from your eyes.

He fucked up, big time. He shouldn’t have brought this upon you. How selfish could he be?

Ghost was the person he was destined to be. Ghost was who he truly was. Up until he met you, he was content with that. He was the best of the best, and performed his job like it was a mundane task. Simple. Easy.

You slowed him down. You broke down the walls he’d so carefully built, brick by brick, all because you were a direct clone of who he used to be before he tread down this path of sinful bloodshed. He was an idiot to think he could have you without suffering the repercussions.

You didn’t deserve that, nor did you deserve a man like him – so broken and bruised, his heart too shattered to glue back together, not even by the tenderness of your own hands.

Maybe death really was the best ending for you. But Simon was a greedy bastard and couldn’t allow a world to spin without a piece of you occupying it.

“I’ll let her go,” he finally agreed. His tongue felt as if it were sharp as knives, slicing the gums of his mouth open with every word. Metallic saliva coated his tongue, filling his mouth with vials of blood. “I’ll cut off contact. Erase her number, forget she existed, so long as you don’t lay a hand on her.”

Price stared at him with an unreadable look. It was like he was pondering, examining, trying to crawl his way into Simon’s little mind and take a gander on what he was thinking. It was intrusive, invasive, and Simon looked away.

“She knows too much,” Price replied, tone much softer and sympathetic than before. “None of us want to hurt her, and her bein’ involved will only risk her safety. I’m happy you found somebody, Simon, I am. But you knew what you were gettin’ into. We can’t fraternize with the innocent, or else somebody else will just end up killin’ her instead of us.”

Simon scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms over his chest in a defense mechanism. He didn’t want to admit that once again, Price was right, and Simon would’ve been the asshole that would’ve eventually gotten you killed or hurt.

Good things weren’t meant for people like him. You weren’t meant for people like him.

You were a flower in a blooming field of color, while he was the parasite that ate away at your soft petals.

Simon left Price’s with a sour taste in his mouth. It was bile rising in his throat and threatening to combust. It tainted his tongue with sickening acid, and no matter how much he tried to swallow it down, it grew stronger.

He lost track of how long he’d stared down at the messages on his phone, all from you.

“Hey, Si! Where’d you go?”

“Tell me when you have to leave for a job next time, dummy.”

“I’ll pick up some food for you later when you come by!”

Every message was a slice in the arteries of his heart. It filled him with aching pain, one nothing could ever smooth over. You were the bandages that held him together, and what was he? The bastard who took advantage.

He couldn’t let it end like this. He couldn’t click the block button on your contact, he couldn’t walk away like he should. Not without seeing you one more time – because that’s all he was. Selfish, selfish, selfish, a word that echoed in his mind on repeat like an irritating buzz.

Simon’s legs moved on their own accord, already mapping out the path towards your apartment. He knew you’d be home, he knew you were waiting for him to return like normal for his nightly endeavors in your presence.

He moved in earnest, strides long and swift, passing by people on the street without a second thought. He kept his eyes trained forward, not letting a single distraction stop him from seeing you.

Just one goodbye. That’s all he needed.

Making it to the front of your door, he found himself slamming his fist along it, the booming knock filling the hallway. He never knocked, it wasn’t his thing, yet here he was, mind so cloudy that it was the first thing he thought to do.

When the door opened and he saw your ruffled expression, he released a sharp exhale, one he thinks he’d been holding the entire run here. His chest visibly relaxed, shoulders slouching, hand dropping to his side once the door was tugged away from his knocking.

“Simon?” you asked, lifting a hand up to grab hold of his shoulder in attempts to keep him steady while he caught his breath. “You– are you okay?”

“I–” he sputtered, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Simon stared at you before pushing his way into your apartment, slamming the door behind him and locking it up tight.

Millions of thoughts raced around his head, and all of them revolved around you. Not a single thought went unnoticed by your being, and they fluttered around anxiously, like butterflies rapidly flapping their wings and crossing over one another.

“Simon,” you called out again, and he snapped his head to look over at you. Your face was filled with concern, eyebrows pulled together, lips pressed in a thin line. His eyes shifted down, watching the way you frowned. Even when you were taut up tight, you still made him feel dizzy at the sight of you.

Simon’s body moved on its own accord. It was like he lost complete control, instincts taking over.

He tugged off his mask in a frenzy, letting it fall to the floor, before he surged towards you and took your lips in his. The kiss was feverish, desperate. It had your body jolting backwards at the sheer force of it, but when you regained your composure, you quickly fell into his kiss like a helpless puddle of goo.

Limbs entangled with one another, his arms bracketing around your waist and holding you as if letting go would cause you to disappear forever. Your chest was pressed flush against him, leaving you no room to wiggle out, but you melted into him with ease, uncaring of the sudden display of need.

It was dizzying, staggering. It left your mind a fumbled mess.

“Si–” you attempted to croak, word getting cut off as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart,” he breathed, nuzzling his face into the span of your jaw, lips brushing faintly against the skin. “I just need you. Please.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, hand coming up to tangle in the short locks of hair on his head. They were soft against your palm, and you smoothed them down.

“How–?”

“All of you. Please, sweetheart, just– you trust me, right?”

Selfish.

“Of course,” you mused. You felt him smile against your neck.

“Then please.”

“...Okay, Simon,” you whispered, because how could you deny the very man who did nothing but care for you to his best ability? Who saved you when nobody else was there to pick up the pieces and mend you together with the craftiness of their hands? “Okay.”

Simon breathed a heavy sigh of relief before pressing needy kisses along the expanse of your throat. Your head lolled to the side to allow him more access, mouth parting to release quiet gasps of surprise.

Every movement of his was unlike anything he’d done. He was always so calculated, so accurate and careful, yet this time, he was sloppy and unsystematic. It was as if he were only allowing his mind to take over, rather than logistics and realism.

The two of you moved in a clumsy dance, with him guiding you back towards the space of your bedroom with his arms unwavering around you and his lips continuing a messy attack on your neck. When you somehow made it past the door frame and into the comforting safe haven of your bedroom, his hands slipped down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head in a hurry.

“Is everything okay, Simon?” you asked worriedly, and he smiled at you, a tinge of sadness lingering at the back of his pupils.

“Just want to spend time with my pretty girl. Can I do that, sweetheart?”

You blinked at him when his hands came to a standstill against your hips, thumbs lightly brushing over the supple skin. His expression was so soft, one he only reserved for you and nobody else. The lines along his face were smoothened into a tender look, and you couldn’t help but admire it with a smile.

“You always can,” you assured, missing the way Simon winced.

Simon rushed forward once again, and your mouths met in an uncoordinated mess of teeth and tongue. It was hot and heavy, demanding and eager, and it showed in the way he lightly pushed you back to rest on your bed.

One of his hands pressed into the mattress next to your head while the other glossed over your side, cold fingertips causing goosebumps to rise. You shuddered, resting your own hands on each side of his jaw, tangling yourself and getting thrown into his web of affection.

“Wanna touch you,” he rasped, fingers sliding down to the hem of the pajama shorts you had yet to change out of, toying with it but not daring to pry until your say so. “Please.”

You sucked in a breath before promptly nodding, and that was all he needed to slip his fingers past the waistband, dipping his fingers into the warmth of your cunt. He was greeted with sweet wetness, and he let out a quiet groan into the curve of your neck, pressing a messy kiss there.

The pads of his fingers scooped up a bit of your slick like candied nectar, before rolling it around your clit, causing your legs to jolt in surprise. Air filled your lungs, burning at the expanding of your chest, before being released in a blissful form of a sigh, eyes fluttering up at him.

“M’gonna take care of you, sweetheart, I promise,” he murmured against your neck.

Simon’s fingers continued to toy at your clit with a feverish motion, circling at a messy pace. It wasn’t steady, but it didn’t matter – it felt good, and it brought butterflies to swarm in your stomach, blooming at the newfound feeling.

He was so gentle in the way he treated you, yet balanced it out with subtle desperation that had your toes curling as he worked wonders against your cunt. He’d circle your clit, before dipping down to tease at the wetness that sopped out of your hole, just to slide back up to continue the torturous prodding against your sensitive nub.

“Fuck, Simon,” you breathed, voice cracking.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his voice laced with sultry sweetness to it. “That okay, pretty girl? Wanna ruin you, fuck.”

“Please,” you pleaded, and the shakiness in your tone had him kissing you once before sliding his lips down. His fingers slipped out of your shorts, and before you could protest, they tugged down the fabric, soft against your legs, before he dropped them on the floor.

His hands gently spread your legs, and without a single hint of warning, you felt the warmth of his tongue press flat against your clit while his finger eased inside of you. Stars burst behind your eyes and you let out a strangled noise, hand frantically grasping on to his hair and gripping.

It was like the heavens were opening in the clouds above, shining warm rays of light all over you and heating you up from the inside. It was a delicious feeling, the way he sucked and slobbered all over your cunt like a man on a mission, his finger fucking inside of you with earnest.

Messy sounds filled the room combined with your pitiful whimpers and gasps of his name, and they only egged him on further.

If this was the last time he’d ever see you, he’d make it count. Your pleasure was his, and nothing else mattered.

One finger quickly became two, and he created a rhythm between fucking you with his fingers and swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. The stimulation had you keening, already teetering on the edge of insanity. Your mind was blank and void of anything but moans of Simon’s name.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he breathed into your cunt, making you whine. “Come on. Cum on my fingers, know you can.”

His voice sent vibrations straight through your body, and your back arched with a wail, thighs clamping around his head in a death grip. They shook with the aftershocks of your climax, but that didn’t stop him from swallowing down every bit of you until it became too much.

He only released you when your fingers tugged on his hair, and when he sat back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Simon smiled at you, eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, pouring over with nothing short of admiration and awe.

You laid on the bed, breathless and sated, a sheen of sweat covering the expanse of your skin. It glimmered in the dim light of your room, and he pressed delicate kisses along the salty sweetness, making his way up your body.

“So good, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

You could nothing but nod dumbly, eyes half lidded as you watched him reach down between your two bodies to fiddle with the buckle of his pants. It clanged together, filling the air with glimpses of what was to come next, and when he got it undone, he wasted no time in tugging them down until he was bare from the waist down.

The sight was beautiful. His cock was hot and heavy between his legs, a slight shine over the flushed tip from precum, and you felt your mouth begin to water.

This was Simon in all of his glory, and only you had been the lucky one to see it. What an honor.

“So pretty,” Simon breathed, causing your gaze to snap up from his cock and to his face. His mouth was parted as his large hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it lazily while he looked at you. His breath fanned over your mouth from the close proximity. “So beautiful. You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Your mind turned to mush at his words. You squirmed against the bed sheets, shyly looking away from him. His free hand came up to gently grasp your jaw, drawing you back to look at him, and his smile knocked the wind out of you.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he repeated, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

The feeling of the head of his cock lining up with your entrance had you gasping into his mouth, and he smiled against you, eyes unwavering from yours as he stretched you open.

It was an ecstatic feeling, one that filled you to the brim with elation. It burned inside of you with flickering flames of want.

He continued to push, and push, until he was flush with you, fully seated inside of your warm, slippery heat. There was a scratch that only Simon could itch, and he knew this. It was why when he began to move inside of you, he started off slow before burrowing into a needy pace filled with smothering desire.

Simon rested his forearms on each side of your head, hovering over you while his hips snapped into you, greedily taking everything you had to offer. It sent you into a puddled mess, mouth hung open as throaty moans escaped every time he took more and more. Your fingernails dug into his biceps, grounding yourself as much as you could with the way your body jolted back and forth from the force of him fucking you.

Fucking? Is that what it was? It felt much more meaningful than that. Simon kissed you with sentiment, thrust into you with aching longingness, praised you like a goddess in the sky and you were his saint.

His groans and grunts filled your ears like lovely symphonies, each note sending goosebumps to rise along your arms and neck. It was a beautiful song, filling you with the wonders of emotions. You couldn’t get enough.

“My pretty girl,” he sighed. His own words seem to turn him on further, as his pace increased, becoming an aggressive slap of skin with every thrust. His cock dragged mercifully along the walls of your cunt, his leaking tip hitting the spongy spot and causing your body to go lax as you took and took. “What are you doin’ t’me?”

“Simon,” you whimpered, and he chuckled out a breathy laugh. With his forearms still resided on the sides of your head, his fingers interlocked on the top of your head, holding you firm against him and keeping you in place.

“So fuckin’ good t’me. Don’t deserve you.”

You clamped around him, causing him to groan. His pace was becoming messy and sloppy, but no less relenting.

“I’ll make sure you’re cared for. Won’t ever have to worry ‘bout anythin’ with me around,” he whispered, and you weren’t fully processing the words. To you, it was mindless babble that you simply took in through the hazy state of your mind, nodding eagerly at every empty promise.

The two of you were growing restless, your bodies building a molten core of unleashed pleasure that threatened to erupt at any given moment. It was hot and scalding, burning the pit of your stomach.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” he asked, almost mockingly. You cried, fingernails digging into his biceps so harshly, the skin nearly broke with pebbled drops of blood. “Yeah? Go ahead, I’ve got you.”

Your own body was betraying you, and you succumbed to the burst of bliss, chest pressing up against his, needy cries singing from your lips. Your eyes spotted with hints of black, the stimulation becoming overbearing.

Simon didn’t allow himself his own pleasure until you had yours, so when he felt you clench around him in a vice, he let himself go, spilling into you and flooding you with milky warmth. It coated your insides like a beautiful painting, filling you with douses of his undying affection.

He slumped on to you, face buried in the crook of your neck. The two of you laid there in comforting silence, catching your breaths and processing the new intimacy formed between you.

While you were riding on a cloud of euphoria, Simon was being dragged into the deepest pits of hell.

Selfish.

What a horrible person he was. All he had to do was let you go, but he did even worse than he had done before.

This was worse than killing men and women. This was worse than killing Graves out of rage.

He was going to leave you behind, make you feel like you meant nothing more than a calculated fuck, and he was going to burn in hell for it. All because he fell in love with you, all because he couldn’t kill you.

When Simon helped clean you up and buried you in your blankets, he waited until you were asleep, sedated and happy. Your frown lines were smoothed over with a look of peace and ecstasy, and he traced along the flush of your skin until he knew it was time.

He carefully made his way out of the comfort of your bed, movements slow as not to disturb you. He gathered his clothes, sifting them on with a hint of resentment for his own actions, and he left.

Just like that, he left.

Simon blocked your number without so much as a goodbye text, or an explanation, telling you that you did nothing wrong. He didn’t tell you that he was the issue, that he was the one in the wrong. Didn’t tell you he fell in love with you, and now he was facing the consequences for it.

He typed out one final message to Price, hoping to satisfy the bastard for what he forced him to do.

“It’s done.”

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw3 #cod x reader #ghost cod #john price #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #hitman au #cod fanfic #ghost

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icanimagine08 · 2 months ago

Text

A Morning in Seoul

Summary: Jeonghan and reader both have a day off - what better way to spend it lounging around all day together?!

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Word Count: 1345

Here is another Jeonghan fic!! I'm going to be on holiday for a couple of days so won't upload for a while! as always, feel free to send in any requests! Hope you're all having a lovely build up to Christmas! :)

It was a rare thing, this quiet morning in Seoul. The city was waking up, the streets outside still quiet, with only the occasional hum of distant traffic or a car honking in the distance. But inside the soft, dimly lit apartment, everything felt suspended in time, just for the two of you.

Yoon Jeonghan lay beside you, his arms wrapped lazily around your waist as the faint morning light filtered through the curtains. The comfort of his presence was something you’d never quite grown used to, not even after five years together. In a world that always seemed to rush forward, moments like these – simple, calm, and uninterrupted – felt like a little oasis.

His breathing was steady, warm against your skin. The rhythm of his chest rising and falling was comforting. You didn’t want to move. Not yet.

You shifted slightly, just enough to tuck your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, a mixture of his cologne and the faint trace of his shampoo. His hand, which had been resting on your side, slid gently up to brush through your hair, the motion slow and tender, as though he wasn’t quite ready to let go of the stillness either.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the peace of the moment settle over you. For a few minutes, the world outside didn’t exist – just the warmth of Jeonghan’s body next to yours, the soft rustle of blankets, and the quiet murmurs of contentment that filled the space between you both.

"I can’t believe we’re both off today," Jeonghan murmured, his voice low, still heavy with sleep but also laced with that signature warmth of his. He pulled you closer, making sure your bodies were pressed together.

You smiled, your lips brushing against his collarbone. "I know. It’s been forever since we had a day like this."

He chuckled softly, a sound that always made your heart flutter. "I swear, you always say that. But it’s true. I forget how nice it is to just… be with you, you know?"

You nodded, looking up at him. His face was soft and unguarded, the morning light casting gentle shadows across his features. Even after all these years, there were still moments when you would find yourself gazing at him, thinking that he was more beautiful than you’d remembered.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “I forget sometimes too. It’s just... the two of us.”

Jeonghan's smile deepened, and he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered there for a moment, before he pulled back slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Are you saying you could live without my company?" he teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Of course not. You’re impossible to live without, Jeonghan."

He laughed at that, his entire face lighting up with the joy that he so effortlessly exuded. The sound of his laugh, genuine and carefree, always made your heart ache with affection.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He rested his forehead against yours, his fingers gently tracing circles on your arm. “I’ve missed this… us just being together without anyone else demanding our attention.”

It had been a while since you’d had a proper day off together. Between his packed schedule as a member of SEVENTEEN, the countless rehearsals, recordings, and the never-ending cycle of concerts and events, there was rarely any time just for the two of you. But this morning, here, in this little corner of Seoul, you had all the time in the world.

"Do you want to just stay here today?" you asked quietly, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips.

"Why would I want to leave when I have you right here?" he responded, his voice thick with affection. He leaned down again, this time pressing his lips gently to yours. The kiss was slow at first, lingering as though neither of you wanted to pull away. When you finally did, your lips tingled from the closeness.

“Stay in bed all day?” you asked, your voice teasing now.

He chuckled softly. "Well, that sounds pretty perfect to me. But if you’re set on being productive, I guess I could find something to do… like maybe make us breakfast?"

You grinned, running your hand down the back of his neck, pulling him closer again. “You don’t need to do that. We could just stay in bed and order something.”

He looked at you with a mock expression of offense. “Are you saying I can’t cook?”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “I’ve never seen you cook.”

He grinned, nudging you with his elbow. “You’re missing out. But maybe you’re right, a lazy breakfast in bed does sound good.”

The thought of a cozy breakfast together, with the possibility of the two of you staying wrapped in your little bubble for a while longer, made your heart warm. You let yourself sink back into his embrace, savoring the comfort of his arms.

"Okay, okay," Jeonghan continued after a beat, his hand tracing the side of your face. "But only if you promise me one thing."

“What's that?” you asked, looking up at him curiously.

“That after breakfast, we don’t leave this bed for the rest of the day. We can just watch movies, or talk, or do nothing at all."

You chuckled, nodding. "Deal."

Jeonghan smiled, his eyes soft as he leaned in to kiss you once more. The kiss was sweet, languid, without any rush – just an expression of how much he adored you. You could feel the smile tugging at the corners of your lips even as you kissed him, and when you finally pulled back, your breath was shallow, as though the closeness between you both had stolen it.

"Okay," you murmured, "I think we should definitely stay here then."

He laughed softly, pulling the covers up over both of you and tucking you into his side. "Good. Because I’m not letting you go today."

As you both lay there, with the peaceful quiet of the morning surrounding you, there was a sense of comfort that settled between you both. The chaos of Jeonghan's world – the rehearsals, the fans, the busy schedules – seemed so far away now. Here, in this little apartment, it was just you two, sharing the simple joy of each other’s company.

You snuggled closer to him, letting your body relax against his. His fingers moved to your hair again, brushing it away from your face, before his lips pressed gently against the top of your head.

"How did I get so lucky to have you here with me?" Jeonghan asked softly, his voice full of affection and sincerity.

You smiled, your hand resting against his chest. "I should be the one asking that. But I think we’re both lucky."

He hummed contentedly, closing his eyes. "Maybe we should never leave this apartment," he whispered, half-seriously. "Just you and me, all the time."

"I wouldn’t mind that," you replied, your heart swelling at the thought. "But we both have lives outside of here. So, for now, we can just enjoy this morning together."

Jeonghan nodded, his arms tightening around you, pulling you closer as though he could keep you in this bubble forever. And for that moment, you believed he might.

In that quiet, perfect morning, nothing else mattered. It was just you, him, and the peaceful serenity of a world that, for once, could wait.

---

The minutes ticked by slowly, and eventually, the faint aroma of coffee wafted into the room. Jeonghan, as promised, had gotten up to make breakfast. But as you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of the blankets and his presence, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed just yet.

#x reader #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #carat #svt #seventeen #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fanfic #yoon jeonghan imagine #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic

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mirrology · 9 months ago

Note

I wanted to request Platonic Boothill and child reader!

After finding out about what happened to Boothill’s daughter wanted to request him finding child reading and taking them in as his own kid and caring for them, taking them to little events or fairs 😭

FEEL SO BAD FOR BOOTHILL ☹️ HE LOST HIS HOME, HIS DAUGHTER AND HIS BODY 😭 IM BALLING MY EYES OUT

— Wunderkind .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ Wunderkind: (noun) a wonder child or child prodigy

Ft. Boothill, gender-neutral reader, platonic. wc: 972

Content: child reader, reader is a sort of 'prize' for an unknown person, the first scene is inspired by mizisua meeting but its platonic, got a little lazy so the rest is headcanons, reader gets surprise adopted, boothill is the best dad ever, he spoils the reader, they both go to fairs and parks often. / a strange man took you in when you were at your lowest. You never knew that you would be at your highest when with him. slight angst but then fluff

Notes: thank you for the request!! i tried my best to incorporate everything that you mentioned. boothill's backstory is so sad and it truly made by tear up, also the IPC sucks.

Fate hadn't been kind to you, you don't remember how you ended up being a so-called prize for a person you barely knew. You don't remember your parent's face nor remember if you even had any. They dressed you up in the fanciest clothes, ones laced with ruffles and the softest cloth, made sure your hair was always neat and tidy. Yet they never actually cared for you, they only wished to show you off as a trophy as they called you.

When out of all the eyes that watched you, they treated you roughly. Grabbing your head and pushing you down to the ground when you didn't meet their expectations, gripping every inch of your arms and leaving blooming bruises in their wake. All while showing you off to everyone in their premise.

You stared blankly at the street, watching people walk by and cars pass. You sat down in an alley way, leaning against the wall of a shop, just, waiting. You had escaped from that manor, from that wretched place. Although you had no hope that you would be free, sooner or later they would find you and bring you back all to restart that agonizing cycle. Just the thought made you squeamish, it made you disgusted.

Your eyes drooped as you looked at people living normal lives, you oh so desperately wished from someone to take you away from this world. As you were lost in your thoughts a pair of boots stopped in front of you, you snapped out of your daydreaming and slowly tilted your head up. Your eyes met with grey ones, you stared blankly at the man in front of you. He had white and black hair, the two colors clashing like yin and yang, it was pretty. He... looked concerned? The man crouched down on one knee to be at your level, you watched him as he did, not once did you take your eyes off of him.

"Hey, uh, ya' okay, kid?" he questioned, his tone was soft and barely above a whisper as if you would run away at the slightest noise. You blinked in surprise, you hadn't expected to be asked such a thing. Your eyes darted somewhere else that wasn't his face, did he want to help you? You considered saying that you didn't want help, but what would that mean for you?

You would be stuck living a life full of emptiness, unfulfilled by your wrongful choice. You looked back at him. He was still there, patiently awaiting your response. "I'm..." You momentarily stopped, your throat felt dry, you swallowed. "I'm lost and... alone, " you squeaked out. Although this wasn't the entire truth, yet it wasn't a complete lie either.

"Hm.." He hummed as his eyebrows furrowed, a conflicted expression on his face. He then perked up or rather tensed. He noticed a bruise, one which is black and dark purple at the moment, looks like a darker spot beneath your sleeve. He slowly reached out towards your arm, and he looked back at you. "May i?" He asked, his robotic fingertips gracing the edge of your long sleeve. Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded. You suppose that this man really does want to help you.

He gently grasped your smaller hand in his, it was cold and stiff. Yet it didn't feel like theirs, this one was careful, considerate. The cool material felt nice against your sweaty palms.

The bruise spread from halfway up your arm down to almost your wrist, a deep purple-black bruise that stood out from the lighter colors of your clothes. It looks like it was recently made and very painful. The man looked stunned, as if this wasn't a normal occurrence. Well, you guess it wasn't for anyone else other than you. "Yer gonna need medical care, bud." He swiftly picked you up in his arms, holding you softly as if you would break in an instant.

You jumped slightly; you weren't used to being picked up nor touched in a way that wasn't aggressive for that matter. He led your arms to wrap around his neck, "Hold on, bud." He grinned at you, showing off his shark-like teeth. You stared in awe at your savior, being helped felt... nice. No one had ever been at your Beck and call, only ever "helped" when they wanted.

Tears sprung up into your eyes. You closed them tightly, not wanting to be seen in such a vulnerable state. "Thank you..." You whispered as you burried you head into the junction of his neck. He smiled and stroked the back of your head.

"Uhm.." You hummed out "What's your name mister?" Your head turned to look at him as your cheek was pressed against his shoulder blade. "Boothill, don't forget it." He chuckled and started walking to the nearest hospital.

You nodded, taking his words into account.

You wouldn't forget your savior.

Boothill is the best dad confirmed, he gets you whatever you want, whether it be food, toys, clothes or accessories. He gets it for you.

He's always patting your head or ruffling your hair; you don't mind thought. It's actually very comforting.

CONSTANTLY tells dad jokes and it makes it funnier when he tries cursing but it gets covered up by his synthesia beacon.

The both of you go out often to parks to play. He definitely pushes you on the swings, and helping you go as high as you can. And when he sees your big smile as you reach the bar, he knows he did a good job.

He brought you penacony once (when he was actually let in) and you had the time of your life.

It was very bright but new and exciting.

You got to eat new things that you've never seen before, such as cotton candy

#honkai star rail #platonic relationships #reader insert #gender neutral reader #x reader #hsr platonic #hsr x reader #hsr x reader platonic #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #boothill x reader platonic #found family #hsr #star rail #hsr spoilers

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