#I’d like to be better too. I’m sick of me too. this is not new information to me. in fact it actually makes me feel worse when you say it

[primordial0riginator]

I need to play more Hades <- girl who spent all of last night playing Hades

[rosicheeks]

I get mad about Fb posts too!! I struggle with being jealous of others and it makes me hate myself. I wish I wasn't like this lol

I relate to this so much omg

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.

[cr0wc0rpse]

“I’m so sick of you” ok cool 👍 are you ever going to consider that you make me feel so much worse

[goldsainz]

❝ THAT’S THAT ME, ESPRESSO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. request . . . “hii !!! i love the new sabrina carpenter song (esspresso) and was wonderimg if you could do a smau with charles x reader based off it !!”

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . the internet can’t believe you two know each other, let alone fancy the other.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . back from my fic making slump!!! i hope yall like this because i actually had fun writing this soooo… happy reading everyone 💙 (also pls don’t ask for pt2 because i don’t usually make them or enjoy doing so)

liked by charles_leclerc, maudeapatow and 1,724,865 others

yourusername you can keep thinking about me every night even more because espresso is out everywhere now!!!! ☕️🤎

view all 25,871 comments

ynfan1 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

ynfan2 can’t wait for ynchella

⤷ ynfan3 oh she’s gonna eat everyone uppp

charlesfan1 what is charles doing here🤨

ynfan4 if y/n was my gf best believe i’d never stop thinking about her

charlesfan2 charles liking… i have a theory but i fear i’ll get bashed for it

charlesfan3 charles is so real for being a y/n fan

⤷ ynfan5 who’s charles???

⤷ charlesfan3 f1 driver! and apparently likes y/n cause he liked this and doesn’t even follow her😭

ynfan6 this song SLAPS

ynfan7 she just releases banger after banger after banger!!!

charlesfan4 bye why did charles like this

ynfan8 huge HUGE slay

charlesfan5 charles i get you sweetie

charles_leclerc updated their instagram stories!

charlesfan21 responded to your story!

charlesfan21 BYEEEE THIS IS SO UNSERIOUS

charlesfan22 responded to your story!

charlesfan22 you’re not slick this song is obviously about you!!!!!!

ynfan21 responded to your story!

ynfan21 spreading the y/n agenda iktr 😌

charlesfan23 responded to your story!

charlesfan23 that performance had you SHOOK

ynfan22 responded to your story!

ynfan22 i just KNOW it was you she was smiling at

liked by ynfan31, ynfan32 and 62,904 others

ynupdates y/n at bleachers’ coachella set with f1 driver, charles leclerc!

view all 943 comments

ynupdates guys i was so chill in the caption but i can assure you i am freaking out too😭

⤷ ynupdates WTF IS HAPPENING ACTUALLY

ynfan33 my brain cannot comprehend this

charlesfan31 nah this can’t be real

charlesfan32 oh im so sick

charlesfan33 he shot his shot and SCORED

⤷ ynfan34 how did he bag my womannn😩

⤷ charlesfan34 that’s HIS woman now i’m afraid

ynfan35 they could be so cute together

liked by tinistoessel, tayrussell and 2,058,439 others

yourusername coachella weekend one you’ll forever be in my heart 🩶 thank you to everyone who made this possible and to everyone who came to see me, you made this experience even more incredible!!!! can’t wait for next weekenddd

view all 30,876 comments

charles_leclerc Amazing perfomance 😊❤️

liked by yourusername and 173,982 others

⤷ charlesfan41 boy if you don’t get off the floor…

⤷ ynfan41 oh you are down BAD too

ynfan42 she slayed so hard

ynfan43 should’ve headlined tbh

charlesfan42 charles you better spill your secrets

⤷ charlesfan43 we need pierregasly to tell us the tea

ynfan44 nobody is doing it like her

ynfan45 babes what are you doing with that vroom vroom guy

charlesfan44 WE ARE IN SHAMBLES SOMEONE DO SOMETHING

ynfan46 did i just lose my wife

⤷ charlesfan45 just lost my husband too…

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @louvrepool @ravisinghs-wife @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version @vroomvroommuppett

[pennjammin]

Folded. | k. nanami

sumsum: your husband doesn’t know how to respond to you getting your feet done; he feels like some kinda sick freak because of how much he likes it <:

CONTENT: gn!reader, husband!nanami, NOT FOOT FETISH-Y I PROMISE, implied smut, sexual language.

word count. 1k ^.^

“How was your shopping, my love?”

You’re clamoring in the front door with a handful of bags.

Nanami sits on the couch, in what he considers loungewear: a green sweater and black slacks, legs crossed over themselves. In his hands is the book he’s been using to keep himself from missing you too terribly while you were gone.

“It was wonderful,” you say with an exasperated huff. “Just exhausted, and sore.”

“Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were here?” Nanami places his book down on the coffee table before rising to join you at the door, where he takes almost all of your bags and walks towards the kitchen to sit them down. “I don’t want you carrying heavy loads like this.”

“I forgot,” you say honestly. “It’s okay, honey. I can do it, ‘m not helpless.”

Nanami gives you a stern glare and your face heats. “I know you are capable, but it’s my job as-”

“My husband,” you grin, joining him at the kitchen table to peck his cheek and place a hand between his shoulder blades, as you sit the rest of the bags down. “Thank you. I will remember next time, okay?”

Nanami’s face twists to smile at you, as he knows he cannot actually stay upset with you. “Alright, but if you don’t, I’m going to invite Satoru over for dinner every night for a week straight. And I’m going to serve him liquor.”

Your eyes widen in panic. “No! Absolutely not.”

Nanami grins and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “Now, what all did you get?”

“Ugh, I’d love to tell you in explicit detail,” you say, hands flying up to rub your temples, “but I need a shower first. It’s so hot out there, got so sweaty.”

“Yeah, what is it you always say to me after I cut the lawn?” He taps his chin. “You smell like ‘outside.’”

You playfully thump him on his shoulder but he is not moved. With a firm pat to your bottom and a quick kiss, he sends you off towards the bathroom, where you take a short, but efficient shower.

Around thirty minutes later, you emerge back in the living room, dressed in one of Nanami’s favorite pajama sets of yours; a light blue top and a pair of shorts with tiny white rabbits all over them.

Nanami’s eyes look up from his spot on the couch, the instant your foot passes over the threshold of the living room entrance. You see his nostrils flare as he takes in your new scent: shower fresh and cocoa butter.

“Feel better, baby?” he asks softly, opening his arms to gesture for you to join him.

“Yes,” you say, sitting next to him. “But my feet are really sore still.”

“Done,” Nanami grins, and gently pulls your feet out of your fluffy house shoes, then hikes both of your smooth legs onto his lap.

He runs his fingers over the soft skin there, eyes focused on your face. “You shaved,” he voices aloud.

You grin. “Yeah, I did. Didn’t want the ladies at the nail salon to judge me.”

“The nail salon?” Nanami’s thick eyebrow raises and his eyes fall to your hands. “But your nails are not done. I would have noticed.”

You sheepishly point towards your feet, and Nanami follows your gaze. You watch as his hands freeze when he takes in the cute, shapely acrylic tips on all of your toes; not to mention, in his favorite color.

“I…” He takes in a deep breath and then looks back at you. “I did not know that you could get the nail extension things on your feet.”

You nod and bite your lip. “You like?”

His hands slide down your calves and to the underside of your feet, where he mindlessly begins to massage them in the same professional way he always does to work out your knots.

He nods. “D-Did you pay for them?” he questions. “Or did I?”

“You did,” you say innocently. “I hope you aren’t ups-”

“No,” he grits quickly, before he clears his throat. “N-No, I’m not upset. Wanna know you’re taken care of, and looking how you want, so that you can feel good, too.”

You smile and reach out to rub his arm as his hands continue to work on your feet. “Thank you, honey.”

“Now,” he says, turning his gaze back to your toes. “I feel weird, because I keep staring at them. But I just…”

“What?” you coo, wiggling your toes under his grip.

“Mmh,” he responds. “They’re gonna look so pretty right next to my head, aren’t they, baby?”

Your eyelashes flutter as heat pumps into your cheeks. “Y-Yes, I suppose they will.”

“You’re so adorable,” he grins, one of his free hands breaking away from your foot to massage up your calf; even though the woman at the nail salon had already done so, you don’t have the heart to tell Nanami to stop. “Always get so flustered when I bring up folding you into the mattress.”

Your stomach tightens a bit and your nervous fingers curl into the material of your pajama shorts. “N-No I don’t.”

“Do too.” Nanami clicks his tongue, his eyes following your nervous fingers. “Then, you wear my favorite pajamas of yours, naughty baby.” He nods his head and now both of his hands are sliding up your legs in sync, nearly reaching your knees already. “My little life partner who always knows exactly how to seduce me, don’t you?”

You blink and cock your head innocently to the side. “Kento, what ever do you mean?”

You watch his eyes nearly roll back in his head as he slowly begins to climb on top of you.

“Calling me Kento now, huh?” His voice has dropped to a sultry whisper, and now you feel the heat of his body and the thump of his pulse as he gently makes his way over you. “I like it better when you’re screaming it.”

From then on, you always make sure your toes are done, as both of you grow fond of the way they look pointed in the air - and of course, resting on Nanami’s shoulders, curling and uncurling as he shows his undying appreciation with his hard, sloppy strokes.

A/N:

kinda wanted to write out the full smut about this but i felt like i needed a short fic to balance things out 😭

~ pennjammin

[yuoimia]

I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING TO YOUR FACE!

summary: they think you’re too pretty for your own good, really.

characters: wriothesley & alhaitham

notes: gn! reader, lighthearted fluff n teasing, wc: 800.

wriothesley

Does he think he can trick you again?

It’s almost funny, you muse to yourself as he routinely leads you through the fortress’ weaving labyrinths, the delicate wafts of Fontaine’s finest decadents alongside the sweet, slightly floral mist of Earl Grey tea increasing in strength with every step, naturally forming a semblance of a smile before you quickly regained your composure with a disappointed slap to the forearm.

Focus, you reprimanded to yourself. Stop thinking about cakes.

“What’s got you scowling like that?” Wriothesley lifts a curious eyebrow, surveying your face as he lightly closes the door behind you. “Pick a seat; I bought some new cushions since you complained last time that they made your back sore.”

He enunciates the complained with an air as if dealing with a petulant toddler’s meaningless tantrum.

Wriothesley notices how you don’t take a seat.

“Thank you,” you answer, prodding the rounded corners of the flowing material. It’s your favorite color, your favorite fabric.

He gazes up expectantly from his seat, taking a small sip from his teacup, swallowing with analytical attentiveness. “You know, it’s considered impolite to just stand and stare.”

“Wriothesley,” you interpose, crossing your arms behind the chair in front of him, examining his presence with a contemplative look. “What are you getting at?”

You continue theatrically spurring points when met with only silence. “Private teatimes? Customised cushions? Sigewinne’s stickers of you on my clipboards?” You take a generous breath and step, zeroing in on him over the tiers of desserts and frothing drinks, arms encasing his frame over the table. “If I didn’t know better,” you slyly whispered into his unblinking eyes. “I’d assume that you like me.”

The tension was hazardously electrifying, eliciting a sense of exhilaration with the mere possibility of a confession concocting itself into reality.

Wriothesley lets out an animated mixture between a sigh and a chuckle, dropping his head into his hands, before raising his head once more.

“You’ll need to repeat a few points again,” he muttered, smiling to himself, sounding almost disappointed. “Preferably with your back turned to me.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows; each second spent with Duke brought you with an ever-growing list of concerning questions to answer.

“Seeing you that close was quite dangerous,” he replied breathlessly. “I’m surprised you’ve never been labeled guilty.”

alhaitham

Alhaitham was stubborn. Yes, he admits, he could be fairly hardheaded and temperamental, but in comparison to you? Well, he considers that a new territory entirely.

“Birds of a feather,” Kaveh had nonchalantly shrugged at Alhaitham’s situation, nearly trickling an onslaught of sarcastic enquiries about this and last month’s missing rental payments and his growing apprehension towards Kaveh’s financial management, but that, alas, would just prove his point further. Alhaitham would rather have three meals of soup a day than let his agitating roommate emerge victorious in a verbal debate.

Thoughts surrounding soups reminded him to check in if you really had gone to bed after dinner, as you had reluctantly agreed, though not spared a wry roll of your eyes when you thought he had turned away.

It was common knowledge that if a person was sick, they should take it easy, rest often, and avoid strenuous activity and demanding tasks. While you were eager to comply with doing practically nothing all day, when the pedestal of stars rose above the fallen west horizon, so did your desire to defy anything Alhaitham suggested. And this part he fully blames himself, although grudgingly, that it was arguably a hundred percent his fault ninety-nine percent of the time. The factors? This he’s comfortably justified to alleviate restless nights—decisions were almost always influenced by bias, no? It was human, and Alhaitham was nothing but a human with human cognition.

The deliberate turn of the door handle, languid and surprisingly unlocked (what sort of scheme could you be possibly planning now?) has Alhaitham nearly stumbling out suppressed laughter of incredulity.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you promise me you'd go to sleep?” he gapes, the expression bearing comparable similarity to a blown-up pufferfish, not that you’d tell him that.

“Watching a movie. Would you like to join?” you push over blankets and pat an empty spot next to you. “I’m about halfway done so far. I’ll warn you, the protagonist is absolutely insufferable sometimes.” You release a long, suffering sigh, rubbing your forehead as if the character’s choices were causing you great distress. “Honestly-“

Alhaitham sits himself on your bed, much closer than you anticipated, cocking his head at your rapidly stumbling words.

“You’re so stubborn,” Alhaitham scowls, gently wrapping your waist with the loosened blankets. His voice carries no trace of malice, rather weaved with soft fondness. “Come on, let me see this protagonist that is causing you so much grief.”

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

[moonstruckme]

My stomach hurts so bad!! I feel so sick Bb do u think u could write a fic with James or Steve with a super sick gf???

I'm sorry about your stomach babe! Hopefully you're feeling much better by now, thank you for requesting

cw: food poisoning (no vom or anything, just mentioned)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 615 words

You whine, curling in on yourself like you can squash your insides into numbness. “I feel so gross,” you whine. 

“You are pretty gross,” Steve replies, knuckles running up and down your arm. 

You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, appalled. “You’re not supposed to agree with me!” 

“What?” Your boyfriend gives you a disbelieving look. “I didn’t say you were hideous, but you are definitely grosser than usual. Like, if we’re taking you on your best day, this is at least thirty percent more gross than that. I can’t agree with that?” 

“No!”

“In that case, I think you’re delirious with fever, babe. I never said anything about you being gross.” 

Despite yourself, a reluctant little chuckle puffs out of you. Steve grins. 

“Even if you were gross,” he drags his palm down the length of your back, letting it curve over your hip to your thigh before starting back in the other direction, “you’d still be way hotter than anyone else I’ve ever seen. It’s only fair that you get gross every now and then. You know, to make everyone else feel better.” 

“I don’t think everyone else is that worried about it,” you say. 

“That’s where I think you’re wrong. Think about it: we eat at the same place we go to all the time, and only you get food poisoning? That’s not chance, that is a planned attack.” 

You look up at him amusedly. “You think this was an assassination attempt?” 

“I mean, without the killing part, probably, but yeah.” 

You hum, settling back in on his lap. “You’re starting to sound like your nerd friends.” 

Steve’s mouth drops open playfully. “I am not! And anyway, if you tune out Wheeler’s brother, sometimes they’re making some good points.” 

You start to smile just before another cramp seizes your middle, rolling through you with a wave of nausea. Steve’s grip on you tightens as your eyes screw shut. 

“Shit.” He sounds part sympathetic and part like he might be in pain himself, one hand worming underneath your arms to rub at your stomach. “I’m sorry, baby. I know it sucks. All we can do is ride it out, and it should be gone by morning.” 

You make a small, distressed sound. “We don’t even know if it’s food poisoning.” 

“Nah, it is.” 

Steve’s massaging helps, and gradually the pain lessens. You take deep breaths until you can think clearly again. 

“How are you so sure?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “It’s just the only thing that makes sense. You’re just getting whatever it was out of your system. You’ll be good as new soon, just you wait.” 

You shoot him a dubious look. “What, you think you’re a doctor now?” 

“No, but I kinda look like I could play one on TV, right?” At your bewildered silence, Steve goes on, his hand still moving gently over your stomach. “I’m just saying, have you ever seen those soap operas in the hospitals? If they came out to Hawkins to do their casting calls, I’d be snatched up in a hot second, babe.” 

You study him. Steve is undeniably handsome, this isn’t new information. He has a firm brow paired with sweetheart eyes and mussable hair, plus a classical sort of bone structure that’s humanized by the odd blemish or mole. Nice skin and a nicer smile. Good hands, too, one of which is currently caressing your hurting stomach while the other plays with the ends of your hair. 

“Nope,” you say, completely lovestruck. “I don’t see it.”

“That’s okay.” Steve gives the pudge of your stomach a gentle squeeze. “It’s just the fever getting to you again.”

[catmiemy]

New Life, Old Problems (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Summary: You're trying to fully settle into your new life in London with your girlfriend. But when you get sick your past stops you from reaching out.

A/N: Finally managed to put something on paper again! By now I have about 6 stories (some multiple chapters) fully planned out in my head, but I struggle so much with actually writing any of it. Although it's getting a bit better, so I might become more active again.

This is the third part of the New Teammate series (Part 1, Part 2 Arsenal version). Although I think you should be fine to read this without reading the other parts first. Also this was definitely helped along by @holly-wallis, who reached out to tell me she was excited for the next part. So thank you again!

You thought you were doing well. You thought you had settled perfectly into your new life in London. You thought your relationship with Leah was going great. And all this was true, but only to a certain degree. Underneath the surface there were still many gaping wounds and you had a long way to go, which would take even longer because you refused to accept it, pretending like you were already at your destination.

How hard it really was for you to fully trust anyone, even Leah, to be vulnerable around her, became glaringly obvious when you got sick. As much as you wanted comfort, someone to take care of you, you couldn’t allow it. The thought of trusting anyone so much when you were in a vulnerable state left you panicked.

However there was no hiding your sickness. Leah and you had plans that day and if you came up with some random excuse your girlfriend might end up checking on you since it was unlike you to cancel without a good reason. And sadly you couldn’t think of a single good reason why you were unable to meet up with Leah. How were you supposed to do that when you could barely muster up the energy to go to the bathroom when needed?

In the end you decided that the truth was your best course of action. The defender had been exceptionally understanding about your situation and the multitude of struggles you still faced because of your past trauma. Honestly more understanding and patient than you were with yourself.

Despite being reasonably confident for a positive reaction you still were too much of a coward to call your girlfriend, opting to text her instead. ‘This was better for your sore throat anyway’, you reasoned with yourself.

R: Le, I’m sorry I have to cancel today. I got sick.

L: Oh no! Are you okay? No wait, scratch that. How bad are you feeling? Is there anything I can do? Bring you something? Or do you want me to come over to keep you company? I’d be happy to!

You looked at the sweet and caring words, Leah’s concern noticeable even from these few letters on your phone. The urge to text back and ask the Englishwoman to come over was huge. She would take good care of you; make you feel safe and loved. But you couldn’t allow it because what if…

You couldn’t even begin to describe what was hiding behind this what if. Maybe it was actually that, the big unknown, the completely unexpected. Never in your life would you have pictured what had gone done with Jimena and the whole team in Barcelona before it had actually happened. It had left you afraid to fully let your guard down because who knew when something unpredictable would happen again. And right now you were definitely too tired to keep up any guards, so your only option was to keep everyone far away from you.

R: That’s very sweet, but I can’t…I’m sorry.

With a rapidly beating heart you watched your phone, practically hypnotizing it, scared of your girlfriend’s reply. What if this was the final straw?  As much as this possibility scared you, it was still more bearable than the alternative. At least it was an option you had already considered. You wouldn’t be blindsided by it. Plus if there was one thing you had gotten good at in the course of your life it was dealing with pain and people leaving you.

L: I understand, babe. But if you need anything please text or call me. And I’ll be right there! Take care of yourself! Sending you some remote cuddles. Love you!

Your whole body relaxed as you read this response, even some tears of relief rolling down your cheeks.

R: Thanks, darling, I will. And thank you so much for being so understanding!! Love you too!

And with that you put your phone away, buried yourself under the covers and fell asleep relatively quickly. The cold medicine you had taken before texting Leah doing its part in helping you drowse off without too much of uncomfortable shuffling. Your last thought was that hopefully you’d already feel better when you woke up again.

Unfortunately the opposite was the case. You were startled awake by a violent coughing fit that just wouldn’t stop. You thought that you could ride it out, but when it got to the point where you felt like you had to throw up from coughing so much, you forced your tired body out of bed and into the bathroom.

First you collapsed in front of the toilet, bending over the bowl, but once it became clear that you didn’t actually have to throw up, you dragged yourself into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

As long as you were drinking you were fine, but as soon as you put the glass down the scratchiness in your throat returned with full force, swiftly followed by another cough attack.

You resigned yourself to keep standing there, leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to support your body weight with only your legs, and drink glass after glass, until finally you could put the water down without instantly dissolving into a coughing fit.

At that point you were trembling because of the cold, your teeth chattering and every single bone of your body seemed to be hurting. Still you didn’t immediately crawl back into bed, instead you gathered all of the supplies you might need to ride out this cold. You filled a bottle with water, grabbed some crackers and medicine and then you decided to also get a bowl to be on the safe side should you actually have to throw up at some point.

When you finally returned to bed, your breathing was labored and you all but fell into it. You quickly buried yourself under the blankets. It did little to warm you up though and you debated for a moment to get back up and get more blankets. The idea of moving again seemed entirely impossible however.

This time it took you a lot longer to fall asleep, silent tears streaming down your face because you felt so miserable. You yearned for some comfort, for Leah’s arms around you really, and you knew she would come in a heartbeat if you asked her. Still, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t!

The next time you woke up you felt even worse and it was at this point that you realized that you needed help. Somewhere in the hazy fog of fever and misery you managed to form this one rational thought. However you had little recollection of what happened next.

You remembered staring at Leah’s contact on your phone for a while, although you couldn’t say if you did so for a few seconds or minutes or even hours. In the end you decided against calling her, instead opting to get an Uber. How you managed to get to the hospital was beyond you. You had some vague memories of a very concerned and helpful Uber driver who even walked you into the ER.

Another thing you recalled was sending Leah a message once you sat in the waiting room, slumped against the wall and shivering violently.

R: Fine. At hospital. But fine. Don’t worry!!!!

You even remembered feeling very proud of this text; convinced that it would soothe all of your girlfriend’s concerns. If you would have been coherent enough to read Leah’s answer you would have known that it had the opposite effect. You did feel the constant buzzing of your phone from when the Englishwoman tried calling you over and over again, but it felt kind of nice against you aching body, so you didn’t do anything about it.

---

“She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t texted me back, Lia! What do I do!?!”

Your girlfriend was crying as she basically screamed these words at her best friend. When she had gotten your text and couldn’t get a hold of you, she had called the Swiss woman for support and because the midfielder was known for being helpful in difficult situations.

“Okay Leah, first take a deep breath…” Lia began with a soothing tone.

“Are you kidding me?! How do you expect me to breath when I don’t know where my girlfriend, my very sick girlfriend might I add, is!” Leah yelled, feeling the need to punch something like some sort of cliché from a movie. Or even better, the blonde would have loved to have a ball at her feet right now, that she could pund with all of her strength into the back of the net. And then maybe get into a slightly too aggressive scuffle with an opponent. Just something to get rid of this nervous energy.

“You know where she is though, she’s in the hospital, so they’ll be taking care of her,” Lia reasoned, continuing quickly before your girlfriend could blow up at her again, “And fine let’s skip the breathing. Here’s what I think we should do; you pack some things your girl might need and I’m going to call the hospitals closest to her. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where she is. Then I’ll come pick you up and drive you over because you definitely shouldn’t be driving.”

Despite her earlier refusal Leah let out a deep breath, relief smoothing out the edges of her panic, at least now they had a reasonable plan. This was exactly why she had called her best friend and once the Englishwoman was less preoccupied with her fear for you she would be thanking Lia profusely.

A little later the two footballers arrived at the hospital, Lia once again taking the lead and asking about you. There was a bit of a back and forth where the staff had to figure out if they could even give them any information about you.

It was a big test for your girlfriend’s brittle composure, every second that ticked by brought her one step closer to bursting into tears or unleashing her fury on everyone that got into a five meter radius of her.

Leah managed to keep it together however, not using the healthiest coping mechanisms. The Englishwoman kept pinching herself to let at least some of the overwhelming emotions trickle out of her.

Lia frowned when she noticed, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk a full-blown outburst which might then keep them, or at least Leah, from seeing you even longer.

Finally they managed to find the right information and saw that Leah was in fact your emergency contact, something that the blonde had been telling them all along. If only they would have believed her then this wouldn’t have taken so long!

Thankfully things went quickly after that. Leah was led to your room while Lia wasn’t allowed to tag along. The Swiss woman promised that she would stay in the waiting room until your girlfriend had updated her, in case either Leah or you needed something.

Leah entered your room quietly, not wanting to disturb you even though with all the meds you had been given it was unlikely you would wake up anytime soon. Still she didn’t want to take the risk. So the defender tiptoed into your room, coming to a sudden halt once she had a good view of you.

It filled your girlfriend with fear and pain to see you so sick. You were pale, even more so than usual, almost the same color as the bed sheets. There was a tube connected to your arm, most likely to replenish you with everything you needed. You were also hooked up to a monitor, and it was a small relief to Leah that everything on it looked and sounded normal. As far as she could tell at least. Most of her medical knowledge stemmed from watching doctor shows, so that probably wasn’t the most reliable source.

After getting used to this sick, fragile version of you the blonde approached you, standing by your bedside. She looked down at you with teary eyes, gently stroking your cheek before smoothing out your tussled hair.

Your girlfriend craved more contact. She wanted to snuggle up next to you, wrap her arms around you and basically attach every centimeter of her body to yours. But Leah didn’t know how you would feel about that. Not when you weren’t awake to enforce your boundaries, not when you were in a vulnerable state which usually made you push people far away from you.

So with a sigh she pulled up a chair and sat down next to your bed, not even allowing herself to hold your hand. The England captain didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable even the tinie when you woke up.

It was about 30 minutes later that Leah suddenly remembered that Lia was still waiting for her. She rushed down to the waiting room, not wanting to leave you alone for a second longer than totally necessary.

“She’s okay, I think. Or not too bad at least. So you can go home,” Leah explained, sounding very unsure. Everyone had told her that you would be okay, all the signs pointed to it, but she would only be able to believe it once you woke up and she could see for herself. And maybe not even then.

“That’s good! I guess you want to go back now, but call me if you think of anything you need, yeah?” Lia replied, giving her friend a tight hug.

Leah nodded, before turning around and walking as fast as she could back to your room. She would have run, but had the distinct feeling that that wouldn’t be appreciated by the hospital staff. And the Englishwoman didn’t want to annoy anyone, not when she was aware that they were already breaking the rules for her by letting her stay with you way past visiting hours.

---

When you woke up you noticed with a pang of sadness that there was no warm body next to you. It wasn’t like you and Leah stayed over at each other’s place every day, but definitely more often than not. And lately every time you woke up alone you felt some dismay. Everything was just better when you got to start the day with your girlfriend.

The second thing you became aware of was that despite just waking up you still felt exhausted, drained was the better word really, and also somewhat hazy and achy. It was then that you remembered that you were sick and that you had this weird fever dream where you took an Uber to the hospital. If you would have had the energy for it you would have laughed at the absurdity of this.

However as you opened your eyes you realized with a silent ‘Oh’ that it hadn’t been a fever dream after all, you really were in the hospital. Panic bubbled up in you, but got quickly cut off before it could become overwhelming by your favorite voice speaking up, even if you didn’t like how worried it sounded.

“Babe, are you awake? How are you feeling?”

You turned around, your lips turning into a smile when you laid your eyes on your girlfriend. She had gotten up from the chair she had presumably been sitting in, staring down at you intently. The Englishwoman’s eyes were trailing over your entire body, however not in the way they usually did, this felt more clinical, like she was attempting to spot anything that might be wrong.

“Could be worse,” you replied.

Leah gave you an unimpressed look. “But it also could be better?” She double-checked and you nodded sheepishly.

“Is there anything I can do before I get the doctor?” Your girlfriend asked softly.

For some reason Leah was still standing a good fifty centimeters away from your bed, her arms hidden behind her back as if she had to stop herself from reaching out to you. If only she would! You longed for some comforting touches and maybe a good, reassuring hug from the blonde.

“Get me home?” You joked with a pleading look. You definitely wanted to get out of the hospital but you knew that it wasn’t up to your girlfriend, and she would never do anything to endanger you.

“No can do, sorry babe. Anything else?” Leah prodded, hoping you would ask her for a hug. She could barely contain herself from launching at you, but the fear of crossing your boundaries in such a difficult situation kept her back.

“Maybe a cuddle,” you mumbled so quietly and rapidly that Leah couldn’t decipher what you were saying.

“What was that, babe? Sorry I didn’t quite hear you,” Leah apologized, taking a step closer to you.

You locked your eyes with your girlfriend’s, letting all the love and concern shining in them wash over you and give you the strength to utter your request more loudly. There wasn’t even a reason to feel weird about it, you knew that Leah wouldn’t deny it, would most likely be happy to oblige.

“A cuddle?”

Within milliseconds your girlfriend closed the distance between the two of you, sat down on the edge of your bed and leaned down to gather you carefully in her arms. You both felt and heard the relieved sigh Leah let out when you were tucked into her arms.

It made you wonder why the blonde had kept her distance before, a certain guess at the forefront of your mind. And in the safety of your girlfriend’s arms you managed to ask about it without much over thinking or fuss.

“Why did you sit all the way over there?”

All the way over there was a bit of an exaggeration, but also not really. Any sort of distance between your sick self and your girlfriend felt like way too much.

Leah tried to lean back a bit to look you in the eyes, but you held her firmly in place. You weren’t ready to lose the comfort of her body on yours, even if she put now weight on you, not sure if it would negatively impact you in your current state.

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable with me being too close when you woke up. I know allowing closeness when you aren’t feeling too good is still very difficult for you,” Leah explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even though your girlfriend showed you over and over again, day in and day out how amazing she was, the level of understanding and love behind this gesture still knocked you off your feet, or it would have if you were standing. It almost made you believe fully that you would always be safe with her. Almost. There was still a tiny bit of fear and insecurity left. It would probably take a good while longer until you got rid of that last remnant and you were once again very grateful for Leah’s patience.

“Thank you so so much, love,” you whispered, pulling the blonde even closer to you.

“Always,” Leah stated, not an ounce of doubt in her voice. She would always do whatever she could for you, to make you feel comfortable, loved and safe.

Your girlfriend allowed you to cuddle a bit longer until she gently extracted herself to get a doctor. At first you were somewhat annoyed at this, you would have preferred to stay wrapped up together for the rest of the night. However when the doctor announced after a quick exam that you would be allowed to go home later that day, you didn’t mind so much anymore. The thought of going home made up for losing contact with your girlfriend temporarily.

Especially because she instantly stated that she would be staying with you when the doctor pointed out that you could only go home if there was someone around to supervise you. The way her voice sounded slightly offended that this wasn’t abundantly clear to everyone made you smile fondly.

That’s how you found yourself sitting in Leah’s car that Lia had brought to the hospital early in the morning with help from Viv and Beth a few hours later. The short walk to the parking lot had tired you out and you couldn’t wait to get to Leah’s apartment and crawl into her cozy bed.

You were half asleep when your girlfriend asked you, “Home?” Still you managed to nod and echo her words. “Home,” you confirmed.

In your drowsy and still a bit feverish state you hadn’t realized that Leah was actually asking where you wanted to go, your apartment or hers. In your mind it was already decided that you would be going to the Englishwoman’s place. You loved her apartment more than yours at this point, everything about it homey and safe.

So when the blonde announced that you had arrived and you opened your eyes from the half-sleep you had been in a wave of unhappiness hit you as you took in your surroundings. You were parked in front of your own apartment building.

Tears flooded your eyes, which you tried to blink away hastily before Leah could spot them. It was stupid to be upset because of this, it wasn’t like your apartment was bad or anything, you were just really craving the comfort of your girlfriend’s place. Where everything smelt and felt like Leah.

Of course the defender detected your distress instantly. She had been watching you like a hawk ever since she had gotten to the hospital last night.

“What’s wrong, babe? Does something hurt? Should we go back to the hospital?” She asked you in rapid succession, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice calm and steady.

You shook your head, mumbling that it was nothing. To emphasize this point you reached for your seatbelt, determined to get out of the car and into your apartment without any more of a hassle. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter that you had wanted to go to Leah’s home. Everywhere was better than the hospital anyway.

Leah didn’t give up so easily though. She put her hand on yours lightly, not taking a hold of it however, leaving you the option to pull it back if you wanted to. You didn’t, just this small contact made you feel better instantly.

“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” your girlfriend begged, her eyes looking suspiciously wet.

“It’s stupid,” you waved Leah off.

“Please,” Leah asked again, demolishing the last of your resolve to keep this to yourself.

“I really wanted to go to your place,” you explained, rushing to add, “But it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go inside now.”

Again you tried to make an attempt to leave the car, and again Leah stopped you with a gentle touch.

“We can still go over to my place if you prefer,” she offered, already turning her car back on.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m just being silly,” you argued, but Leah just reached over to buckle you back in and pulled out of the parking space.

You didn’t have it in you to continue arguing. Plus you were too happy at the prospect of getting to go to your girlfriend’s place after all. So you just leant your head against the car window, letting your eyes flutter shut again.

“I thought you said you wanted to go home,” Leah said before you could fully fall asleep.

“I did, but I meant your place,” you answered tiredly.

“Oh,” your girlfriend exclaimed, her voice heavy with emotion. The idea of you thinking of her apartment as your home meant a lot to Leah. Every once in a while she couldn’t help but worry if she was doing enough to help you move on, to be the best girlfriend possible, to make you feel loved and safe. So this undeniable confirmation that she had been succeeding in all of these aspects meant the world to your girlfriend.

When there was no more reaction from you after this, Leah glanced over, smiling when she saw you sleeping soundly. You looked so young and open and vulnerable when you slept. Leah cherished the fact that you were comfortable being like this around her, that wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago.

[its-avalon-08]

Hi, I’m writing to ask if you could write a Daniel Ricciardo x reader story. (I know very well that this isn’t the right time since we’re all devastated because of his departure), but I’ve had this story in my mind for a long time. It’s a pretty serious subject, but I’d like to know how Daniel and the other drivers would react when they discover that a team principal (I have no idea who) is accused of sexual harassment, etc. And how he would react to finding out that his girlfriend, the reader, is one of the complainants and that she hid it from him.

thanks love

as the world crumbles (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, sexual harassment

The atmosphere in the paddock was tense, much tenser than usual. News traveled fast, but this—this was different. Rumors had been swirling for hours, but when the official statement came out, the paddock fell into a stunned silence.

Mattias Verner, the team principal of a mid-field F1 team, had been accused of sexual harassment by multiple women on his team. It was the kind of scandal that shook the sport to its core. No one had seen it coming.

Lando Norris was the first to speak up, leaning against the side of the McLaren garage, his expression one of disbelief. “Is this for real?” He looked around at the other drivers who had gathered, his eyes wide with shock. “I mean… Verner?”

George Russell shook his head, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his usually calm demeanor replaced with a mixture of anger and discomfort. “I’ve heard things before, you know. Like whispers. But I didn’t think…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"Yeah, but whispers don’t always mean something, mate." Alex Albon frowned, his face pale. "But this? It’s in the statement. There are names. Women from the team."

Max was silent, his face set in a deep frown as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Bastard deserves whatever’s coming to him,” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenched. The usual cold determination in his eyes was now replaced with something darker. “People like him shouldn’t be anywhere near the sport.”

Carlos shook his head, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "I don’t get how no one knew. How did this stay hidden for so long?" He glanced around at the other drivers, as if hoping someone had an answer.

Pierre , sitting on a crate, tapped his foot anxiously. “People like that… they’re always careful. They make sure no one notices until it’s too late.”

Lewis , who had just arrived, listened quietly before finally speaking. "It’s disgusting. He abused his power. Makes me sick." His voice was low, simmering with barely contained anger. "We need to do better. As a sport, as a community. These women—" He paused, shaking his head. "They trusted him, and he betrayed them."

The drivers all nodded in agreement, but there was a deep discomfort in the air. They were used to competing against each other, fighting for the championship, pushing themselves and their cars to the limit. But this—this wasn’t about racing. This was about something far more personal, something far more sinister.

Charles Leclerc looked around, his brow furrowed. “Do we know who the women are? I mean, do they want us to support them publicly or keep quiet until the investigation finishes?”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “From what I’ve heard, some of the names are out there. But I don’t know all of them. It’s… sensitive.”

Daniel Ricciardo, who had been standing off to the side, unusually quiet, felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The whole situation disgusted him. The idea that someone so high up in the sport could abuse their position like that made his blood boil. "Whoever they are," he said, his voice low, "we have to have their backs. They’re part of this paddock, just like us."

The others nodded in agreement, but a heavy silence fell over the group again. They were all thinking the same thing—Who was involved? Who had been hurt? And why hadn’t they noticed anything sooner?

Lance Stroll spoke up hesitantly. “I can’t believe it’s taken this long for something to come out. I mean… if it’s true—”

“If?” Max interrupted sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. “You don’t think this many women are lying, do you?”

Lance held up his hands defensively. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… it’s hard to wrap your head around. That someone we’ve seen for years could be—” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Esteban Ocon, who had been mostly quiet, finally said, “It’s hard to accept, but we have to. These women deserve to be believed. And Verner… if it’s true, he’s finished. No way back from this.”

The drivers exchanged looks, all of them sharing a silent understanding. This wasn’t just another scandal that would be brushed under the rug. This was something that would change the sport forever.

Daniel stayed quiet for a moment longer, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. But there was something gnawing at him, something he couldn’t quite shake. The whole situation felt too close, too personal. And then, almost as if the thought had struck him like a punch to the gut, his eyes widened slightly.

He looked over at Lando, who was still talking with George, his words fading into the background. But Daniel’s focus had shifted entirely.

"Y/N," he muttered under his breath, his heart suddenly racing. She worked in the paddock. She knew people. She was in those circles, always professional, always around the team principals and engineers.

His stomach twisted into knots.

Without another word, Daniel turned on his heel and started walking briskly toward the McLaren garage. He had to find her. He had to know if she was okay. And more importantly—he had to make sure she hadn’t been hurt.

Because if she had… if that bastard had hurt her in any way—

Daniel’s hands clenched into fists as he marched through the paddock, his mind spinning with fear and fury.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from the murmurs of his fellow drivers. It was a message from Y/N:

"We need to talk. Now."

He stared at the message for a moment, a strange heaviness settling over him. He stood up abruptly, not bothering to excuse himself as he walked out of the room. He found Y/N waiting for him near the motorhome, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them together.

"Dan," she began softly, her voice shaky. "I… I need to tell you something."

His chest tightened as he saw the fear in her eyes. "Y/N, what’s going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

She bit her lip, glancing around before gesturing for them to go somewhere more private. Once they were alone, she took a deep breath. "It’s about the accusations… against the team principal. I—" She stopped, her voice faltering.

Daniel’s heart started to pound. He could feel the gravity of what she was about to say but wasn’t ready to hear it. "Y/N, please. Just tell me."

The noise of the paddock was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the roaring in Daniel’s ears as Y/N’s words sank in.

"I’m one of the complainants."

He blinked, frozen in place. For a moment, it felt like the world stopped spinning. His girlfriend. Y/N. She was part of the accusations against Mattias Verner. His throat tightened, his mind racing, but all he could feel was rage building deep in his chest, the kind that twisted his stomach and made his hands curl into fists.

For a moment, everything froze. Daniel blinked, his body stiffening. "You?" His voice cracked, his heart dropping like a stone. "He—he hurt you?"

Y/N’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she nodded, looking away. "I didn’t want to tell you. I was scared of what you’d do… how you’d react."

Daniel’s breath caught, a wave of anger, hurt, and confusion crashing over him all at once. His jaw clenched tightly as rage filled his chest, every muscle in his body tensing. "Scared of what I’d do? Of what I’d do?" His voice was low, trembling with barely contained fury. "You think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t need to know that some piece of shit was hurting you?"

Y/N flinched at the venom in his voice, but he couldn’t stop. His anger wasn’t at her—it was at Verner, at the fact that someone had the audacity to hurt her. The fact that she’d been going through this alone, that she hadn’t felt safe enough to tell him… it broke something inside him.

"That bastard," Daniel spat, pacing in front of her now, his fists clenched. "That disgusting bastard." His voice shook with anger, his heart thundering in his chest. "I swear to God, Y/N, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make sure he never walks into a paddock again, that he never touches another woman again." He stopped, turning back to her, his eyes blazing with fury. "No one—no one—hurts you and gets away with it."

Y/N’s voice cracked, tears spilling over as she reached for him. "Daniel, please…"

But he cut her off, his voice breaking. "How long have you been dealing with this? How long have you been keeping this from me?"

Her sobs came harder now, her body trembling as she spoke through her tears. "I didn’t want to burden you. I didn’t want you to see me differently. I was trying to be strong—"

"Burden me?" Daniel’s voice softened, the anger still there but mixed with heartbreak. "Y/N, you’re my whole world. How could you ever think I wouldn’t want to be there for you? That I wouldn’t stand by your side through this?"

She let out a choked sob, her knees giving way as she collapsed into herself, and in that instant, Daniel’s anger shifted. Seeing her like that—so broken, so vulnerable—ripped him apart. Without hesitation, he dropped down beside her, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, crying into his chest as he held her tightly, pressing his lips against her hair.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered between sobs. "I didn’t want to hurt you."

Daniel’s heart shattered at the sound of her voice, guilt flooding him. He gently rocked her, his anger at Verner still burning hot, but all he could think about now was comforting her. "Shh," he murmured softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It’s okay, love. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’ve got you."

She cried harder, her sobs wracking her body as Daniel held her tighter, his own throat tightening with emotion. "I should’ve been there for you," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "I should’ve known."

Y/N shook her head, burying her face in his chest. "I didn’t want to drag you into this mess."

"You’re not dragging me into anything," Daniel said, his voice fierce but tender. "This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. That bastard—" His voice broke again, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "He’s going to pay for what he did. I promise you that."

She trembled in his arms, and Daniel’s heart broke a little more with every sob. He kissed the top of her head, his hand stroking her hair as he whispered, "You should’ve told me, Y/N. You should’ve let me help you through this."

"I was scared," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I didn’t want you to be angry. I didn’t want you to hate me—"

"Hate you?" Daniel pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I could never hate you, Y/N. Never." His voice was thick with emotion, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. "I’m angry, yeah. But not at you. I’m angry at him, at the fact that you had to go through this alone."

Her lip trembled as she whispered, "I didn’t want to be weak."

"You’re not weak," Daniel said firmly, his voice full of conviction. "You’re the strongest person I know. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me."

She sobbed again, leaning into his touch as he held her face in his hands. "I love you," she whispered, her voice broken.

"I love you too," Daniel whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "And I’m going to be here for you, no matter what. We’re going to get through this. Together."

Y/N’s sobs began to quiet as she clung to him, and Daniel held her tightly, his heart aching for her. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, a fire he knew wouldn’t go out until Verner was held accountable, but for now, all that mattered was Y/N. She was safe in his arms, and he wasn’t going to let go.

[lumiolivier]

Another Man's Treasure

Series: One Piece

Chapter: One Shot

Word Count: 2339

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Cross Guild x Reader (YN)

It's Mihawk's week to have you all to himself. You have your traditions. However, that doesn't mean they can't be so rudely interrupted.

A/N: So, yeah...You guys seem to keep liking these things. As long as you do, I'm just going to have to keep cranking them out. At least until you tell me you're sick of them.

Tags: @tavsianus @canyouhearthecoyotes @cheese-it-jr

“YN…” Mihawk liked his alone time.  But he liked it with you much more.  And there was one thing he loved with you more than anything else in the world.  However, he couldn’t seem to find you.  It was his week.  It was his turn.  And yet…Where could you possibly be?

You weren’t intentionally hiding.  You were just dragged out against your will.  An average Tuesday around the castle.  But it also meant Perona having her claws in you.  Granted, you loved Perona.  She was a sweetheart.  But of all times for her to drag you away, now was not the time.  It was the start of Mihawk’s week.  You two had a tradition.  And Perona knew it all too well.  But you also knew that dear, sweet Perona was an agent of chaos, no matter whose week it was.  It didn’t matter whose week it was.  It was always Perona’s week.

“You do know he’s going to kill you, right?” You sat still while Perona had your hands practically pinned down.  Because if you weren’t Buggy’s doll, you were hers.  And she wanted to try her hand at acrylics.  And your hands happened to be available. 

“Who, Mihawk?” Perona scoffed, “Please.  Look at my cute little face.  Like he could hate me for any reason.  He can’t be mad at me, YN.  I’m me.”

“Someone thinks awfully highly of herself,” you teased her.

“It’s not me being conceded,” Perona assured you, “It’s just fact.  Mihawk can’t be mad at me.  And if he is, it’s not for long.”

“Damn,” you let her have that one, “Good for you, Perona.”

“And I know he’s going to thank me,” Perona grinned, “I know it’s his week and you better be putting those nails to good use.”

“Perona!”

“You act like I don’t know what goes on behind those closed doors,” she rolled her eyes, “You and Mihawk are the worst.  I hear that headboard slamming into the wall.”

“Perona!” Immediately, your cheeks got hot.

“What?” she squeaked, “I’m just saying.  I’m proud of you!  No need to be such a prude.”

“I’m not…!” You wanted to strangle her.  But by some act of the divine, you keep your freshly manicured hands to yourself.  Miraculously.  You had to admit, though.  Perona did a great job for it being her first time, “Thank you, Perona…”

“You’re very welcome, YN,” Perona gave you a little smirk, “Now, those better have Mihawk’s blood on them by the end of the night.”

“Perona!”

“YN!”

“There you are, Darling,” Mihawk walked into Perona’s room, his face scrunching up, “Perona, what the hell were you doing in here?”

“Ask your lady friend,” Perona threw you to the sharks, “She’s the one who got what I did.”

“Perona gave me a mani,” You showed off your new black and silver nails…that Perona wanted blood on, “I think they worked out nicely.”

“Of course, they did,” Mihawk put your hands up to his lips, “They’re on your beautiful hands, treasure.  I’d expect nothing less.  Now, come with me.  You and I have important business to attend to.”

“Lambskin or latex, protection’s the best!” Perona called after you.

“Perona…” Mihawk scolded her.  But only for a brief moment.  She was right.  Mihawk couldn’t be mad at Perona for long.  You were impressed.

“You two have fun…” Perona shot you a wink.

“Don’t you listen to a word she says,” Mihawk took you away down the hall. You smelled something sweet, yet a touch earthy, “Perona doesn’t know what she’s talking about.  Besides, you know vbetter, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you stood on your toes and kissed Mihawk’s cheek, “We don’t fuck on the first night.  You’re much more of a gentleman than that.”

“Obviously.” Mihawk led you through his bedroom and into his bathroom covered in beautiful black marble and mother of pearl.  The steam filled the air and you knew what you needed to do.  But Mihawk got a little closer, already sliding your shirt off your shoulder.  He purred in your ear, “Shall I unwrap my perfect little present?”

“Yes, sir.” You happily insisted.  Bathtime with Mihawk was one of your favorite things in the world.  You’d get to soak your achy muscles with Mihawk’s chest on your back (and let’s be honest, his lips all over your neck and schoulders).  He ate up skin to skin contact with you more than anything.  And…well…look at him.  Mihawk was a chiseled god.  You weren’t going to say no to that.

As he helped you into his giant bathtub, he soon followed you in and made you comfortable.  Everything was already there.  A bottle of wine (As Mihawk told you, it was up to you whether or not you took it.), pillowy bubbles, and water at the perfect temperature.  Not that he didn’t love having you with him in the bathtub, but he also had an ulterior motive.  He wasn’t going to let you get into his satin sheets without making sure you were clean first.  Even if he had to do it himself.  Not that you’d ever tell him no.  You both loved the quiet time.  You loved the closeness, the warmth.  You loved how he loved you.  How he showed you just how much he loved you.  The soft, gentle touches.  You were the only girl in the world in Mihawk’s eyes.  And in that moment, nothing else mattered.  You loved Crocodile.  You loved Buggy.  But for this week, you loved Mihawk.  And Mihawk alone.  Unless someone asked nicely.  Nothing could ruin this for either of you.

“OH, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWKKKKKEYYYYYYYYYYYESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” a man’s voice sang through the halls.  One that made Mihawk immediately tense up.  It wasn’t Crocodile.  It wasn’t Buggy.

“Mihawk?” You looked up at him, a little concerned, “What’s going on?”

“It’s alright, darling,” Mihawk assured you, idly running his fingers down your skin, “If we just stay quiet, he’ll go away.”

“Who is it?” you whispered.

“He’s…” Mihawk sighed out, “Complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that,” Mihawk held you a little tighter, “One of my ghosts coming back to haunt me.”

“But that’s Perona.”

“No, no,” Mihawk shook his head, “Before Perona.  Well before Perona.  He was…I’ll admit.  He was fun for a night or two.  But…”

“FOUND YOOOOOOOOOUUU!” That same man from the hall stumbled into the bathroom.  Into the sanctuary you shared with Mihawk.  Where you were both still very much naked.

“One of us sobered up,” Mihawk rolled his eyes and threw back the rest of his glass of wine, “What the hell do you want?  And who even let you in?”

“Buggy did,” that man rolled into the bathtub with the two of you.  And it took him a minute to realize you were even there.  Once he did, though…That’s when you realized what Mihawk saw in him.  Because a man with that level of charm was deadly, “Oh…Hello…A woman?  Really, Hawkeyes?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” Mihawk did his best to keep his cool, but it grew more and more difficult by the second, “Get.  The fuck.  Out of my bathroom.”

“Look at you…” the man cradled your cheek in his palm, no doubt sending Mihawk into an internal rage, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“YN,” You tried not to swoon, but…Between the eyes, the face, the scars over his eye…You couldn’t help yourself.

“YN…” And then…That smile hit you.  And you were done.  Granted, you knew whose bed you’d be sleeping in for the week, but…This one made a case for himself, “What is that…South Blue?”

“Mmhm…”

“A pretty little southern girl…” he smirked, “Good for you, Mihawk.”

“Yes, yes, I’m very lucky,” Mihawk growled, “Now, get the fuck out of here, Shanks!”

“Alright, alright,” he rolled out of the bathtub, his clothes soaking wet, “So, should I wait in the bedroom, then?”

“If it’s a guest room,” Mihawk scoffed, “I am not sleeping with you, Shanks.”

“Aww, come on…” he slurred, “You know you want to…”

“No,” Mihawk grabbed a towel for you, handing it off with an apologetic look in his eyes, “Why don’t you go to our room?  I’ll handle this.”

“Ok.” You wrapped yourself up in your towel and started walking off to the bedroom.  Never did you expect to meet any of the Cross Guild’s exes, let alone under these circumstances.  Let alone Mihawk’s.  At least you knew Mihawk had taste.  But there was something more.  You didn’t like that look in his eyes.  Just because he didn’t say something didn’t mean something didn’t happen with them.  You’d never see him so scary.  And yet, he seemed so defeated.

After you were dried off, you put on a black silky robe and made yourself comfortable on the bed.  Although, the angry and colorful language you heard down the hall wasn’t exactly the comfort you were looking for.  But then, it got quiet.  Scarily quiet.  You weren’t entirely sure if it was because it was over or Mihawk needed to hide a body.  But before too long, one word echoed through the castle.  It could be heard for miles.   You had never heard Mihawk so angry.  Then again, you were also involved.

“BUGGY!”

You weren’t sure what was going to happen next.  But things went back to their scary quiet again.  Before you knew it, Buggy’s head zoomed past your door.  Just his head.  Nothing else.  It just blurred by.  Along with Buggy’s yelling accompanying his head’s flight.  You being the curious type couldn’t help but peek out at the carnage.  No blood, so you took that as a win.  That meant Mihawk kept the swords in their sheaths.  However, the new black eye coming through Buggy’s makeup was not nearly as victorious.

“You ok, Buggy?” You picked his head up from the floor.  What could you say?  You took pity on the guy.

“No, I’m not ok!” he squeaked, “My body’s missing.!  Your boyfriend just fucking decked me!”

“What happened?” Because you had a feeling that, even though it still broke your heart to see Buggy get hurt, he likely had it coming.

“Apparently, when we have company,” Buggy rolled his eyes, “I’m not supposed to answer the door.  I’m not supposed to let them in.  Oh, no.  We can’t have that.  Mr. Broody Pants barely wants us in his castle.  God forbid we have anyone else come over.  And before SOMEONE was boinking Shanks, that same SOMEONE seems to forget we have history, too.”

“Goddammit, Buggy…” you had been around the Cross Guild long enough.  You knew how they ticked.  You also appreciated Crocodile staying out of the mess.  This was purely a hissy fit between Mihawk and Buggy.  And unfortunately, you had to be the referee between them.  You had to be the one to call the fight.  And on tonight of all special nights.  Which sucked even more, “Did you know Mihawk and Shanks had any history before you let him in?”

“Of course, I did,” Buggy scoffed, “I know enough about everyone in this castle to keep myself safe.”

And if that didn’t make your heart ache just a little more, “Even me…?”

“Sorry, doll,” Buggy nestled his head in your shoulder, “An unfortunate nature of the beast.”

“You really think I’d do something so stupid, Buggy?” you started to understand where Mihawk was coming from, “You really think I would betray you?  You think I would be the one holding the bloody knife that came out of your back?  You think I’m like that to where you’d feel the need to have something over my head?”

“Well…” It was then, Buggy knew just how much he gutted you.  How much he hurt you.  And he knew he wouldn’t be able to backtrack his way out of it.

“No,” you put your foot down, “You said what you said.  You meant what you said.  You don’t realize it, Buggy, but you and Mihawk and Crocodile have-”

“Ahem…”

“And Perona…” you didn’t see her floating around, but you knew she was there.  You knew she was listening, “You’ve all been like a family to me.  And I don’t know about you, but I don’t fuck family over.  I can’t believe you’d do something like that…To Mihawk and Crocodile?  Yes.  Of course, I can see that.  All day.  I didn’t think you’d bring me into that, too.  I thought we were special.”

“And we are,” Buggy insisted, his eyes pleading, “YN…Baby girl…”

“Don’t you fucking baby girl me,” you were not happy.  And you had every right to be not happy.  It was then, you decided to take a page out of Mihawk’s playbook.  And you dropkicked Buggy’s head from one end of the hall to the other.

Although, as Mihawk stuck his head out of the guest room he had tucked Shanks into for the evening (because he wasn’t heartless.  Shanks was wasted and needed a place to crash.), he was shocked to see Buggy fly by again, “YN…?”

“What?” You snarled, already fired up from what Buggy had said.

“YN…” Mihawk’s voice took on a much more authoritative tone, “You know better.”

“I’m not in the mood, Mihawk,” you stood your ground, not letting anyone belittle your feelings right now.  You knew you had every single right to be as hurt as you were. 

“Hey…” Mihawk wrapped his arms around you and let you shake in his embrace, “What happened?”

“Buggy just pissed me off…” You admitted.

“Me, too,” Mihawk scooped you up into his arms and gently kissed your forehead, “How about I bring you back to my room and we can make it ours for the evening?  Sound good to you?”

You just nodded, your head rested in Mihawk’s shoulder. 

“Good girl,” Mihawk carried you back to bed and put you down as delicate as a newborn baby, “By the way, darling…”

“What?” You started to come down from your fit of rage.  Mihawk had that effect on you.

And he simply smiled, “Wonderful kick.”

“Thank you…” And you knew the night could only get better from there.

[loveinhawkins]

“Still super jealous as hell by the way,” Eddie says; Steve laughs, elbows him in the chest—disguising a want to touch by shoving him away.

There’s a brief flash of warmth against his skin before Eddie teeters back.

He stays close though, dances in and out of Steve’s space as they walk, almost close enough to…

“D’you know what’s adding an extra layer of, uh…” Eddie clicks his fingers then says with relish, “Of batshit insanity to everything?”

“No,” Steve says, and he feels a smile growing; he couldn’t fight it even if he tried. He doesn’t want to. “But I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“My, uh. One of my favourite games as a kid was… uh well, it didn’t really have a name, it was more—”

“No jump rope for you?” Steve asks in mock surprise.

Eddie snorts. “Nah, nothing as normal as that, Harrington, honestly. Kid me was a visionary.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve says.

The words hover in the space between teasing and genuine; he means both, of course.

“At, um. When I was at my dad’s.”

Eddie’s smile flickers, and Steve tries to fill in the gaps: has vague memories of middle school halfway through one year, of murmured interest, you seen the new kid? He just moved here.

“Our place backed onto some woods, and I’d just… kinda wander.”

Eddie scoffs—his foot makes an aborted motion as he walks, like he’d gone to absentmindedly kick a twig and thought better of it.

Better safe than sorry, Steve thinks. Hive mind and all that.

“So your favourite game was wandering?” he prompts when Eddie goes quiet.

A tease again. Softer. Really means you can tell me. I want to know.

He wonders if Eddie can hear it.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds shit. And it was more, like, active up in…” Eddie taps his temple. “I’d just… uh. Pretend the woods were haunted, stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Steve says, amusement growing. “So all this,” he gestures to the vines and trees, to the fog creeping along the forest floor, “is real immersive for you, then. Got it.”

“Um, no,” Eddie says, and his voice is going up into that wobbly tone that only comes from suppressing genuine, ugly laughter. “The stuff in my head was gothic, Harrington. It had class.”

“God, man, I’m sorry. Is the alternate dimension not living up to your expectations?”

“I’m gonna make a complaint.”

“Yeah, do it in writing. Make it professional.”

“To whom it may concern,” Eddie starts, all comically snooty.

Steve laughs.

And Eddie’s up close again, grinning, and Steve presses the side of his forearm up against his chest; the moment lingers, until Eddie moves back, until Steve drops his arm a fraction too late.

“I’ve found the experience provided—”

Steve snorts. “Experience?”

“—thoroughly lacking in both atmosphere and charm. I expect appropriate compensation as soon as possible.”

“Tell you what,” Steve says, “show me a picture of your haunted woods when we’re outta here. I wanna see how they compare.”

“Um,” Eddie says through the tail end of a chuckle. He sounds embarrassed. “I don’t have… My dad, uh, he wasn’t exactly the kinda guy to take a lot of pictures, y’know?”

And Steve doesn’t know—or at least, he thinks he doesn’t.

What he does know is that in the back of a cabinet there’s an old baby book: he can tell exactly when his grandma first began to get sick—and when everything else went to shit—because the milestone entries stop a third of the way through.

He doesn’t mention it. He can’t find the words, not here, not now—even if he could, he’s worried it’d sound a clumsy, weak comparison at best, self-centred at worst.

So he waits. Feels when the abrupt silence becomes less heavy.

“Did you, like, do speeches to yourself in the game, too?”

Eddie gives him a sideways, bemused look. “Maybe.”

Steve pretends to mull it over. Nods. “Yeah, figures.”

A pause.

“Uh, hold on,” Eddie says, chuckling again, like he’s been surprised into it. “You can’t just leave it there, man, you—”

“Nah, it’s just.” Steve smothers a grin. “Just fits you, that’s all. Like, you would’ve dramatically narrated your own birth if you could, I know it.”

Eddie laughs hard; he nearly drops his flashlight.

“You’re funny,” he says eventually, still smiling.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve quips back, “was I not supposed to be? Ruined your doctrine again?”

“No, just—” Eddie laughs again. Sighs. “Just timing, man. Wish I was finding out in a more, uh, low stakes kinda way. Like…”

His eyes go a little far-off, and for a second Steve can see that kid in him, the one who kept himself company in his own imagination.

“Like we’re just walking past the lockers, or something.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, with probably more feeling than it strictly calls for. “Anything beats these goddamn vines.”

He could add that there is no ideal timing, really: that if there’s one thing he’s learned throughout all this, it’s that there’s hardly ever time to dwell on things. It’s more do or die.

Besides, he thinks, you could wait all your life for a perfect moment, and it still passes you—

The earth trembles.

Eddie sways; Steve lunges to the side so Eddie falls backwards, away from a nearby vine. He tries to plant his feet, realises he’s inevitably going down, too, and course corrects.

Falls.

Feels the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against his hand.

“M’definitely filing that complaint,” Eddie says breathlessly.

He turns so he’s facing Steve. Stays close.

They’ve both dropped their flashlights. The effect is dazzling—Eddie’s face is illuminated, eyes bright.

No atmosphere, my ass, Steve thinks.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie says—gasps, really. Steve feels how his breathing shakes.

There’s barely a disguise now; they’re both leaning in.

And for a moment, they’re not here at all; they’re just at school, hiding by the lockers.

Then again…

Maybe it could only happen here.

Maybe wandering—maybe everything—has been leading up to this: the moment before a chance taken.

[luveline]

Hi jade if you’re doing requests I’d love to see how prince Steve and his soulmate are doing after the wedding

prince!steve soulmate au —you’re sick from stress and Steve's adoring as always. fem, 1k

“Hello.” 

You nod dazedly from your bed. “Hello, husband.” 

Steve leans on the door, a bouquet against his chest. “Are you feeling any better? At all?” 

“Yeah.” You’re lying, but it doesn’t matter —your hoarse voice betrays you. You sound as sick as you had yesterday and the day before. It is putting a real dampener on the honeymoon. 

He puts his bouquet down on the dresser, the big white petals of its lilies drooping past the cellophane to kiss the drawers. You focus too much on that detail and startle when he sits on the bed. 

“You had everything you needed while I was gone?” he asks, hair falling into his eyes. 

You raise your hand, smiling softly as he leans forward, allowing you to fix it out of his eyes. He’s terrifying this close to you, absurdly pretty, absurdly yours, a golden ring on his finger and a furling white light turning pink braceleting his wrist. He’s very much the prince he was when you met, but now he is your prince, and that’s a strange thing to come to grips with, worse when you’re so achingly sick. 

“Hey?” he prompts. “You have everything?” 

“The serfs won’t leave me alone,” you complain worriedly. It hasn’t been nice to have them coming in and out all day. “I try to sleep and they wake me up coming inside. Sorry, I’m not– I’m complaining, I’m–” You rub your headache. “I should be grateful–”

“You’re allowed to complain about that!” he says, grinning. “God, I want you to! I’ll tell them to stop coming in, I just thought you’d probably die in your sleep while I was gone.” 

You lean back into your pillows with a wince. “You sure?” 

“Am I sure?” He holds your arm with both of his hands. “I’ve just sent the maids in to harass you for six hours when you’re sick as a dog and you’re asking if you’re allowed to be mad.” He rubs your arm with his thumbs. “I’m sorry. Do you want to sleep now? I won’t let anybody come in.” 

“No, um,” —you clear your throat— “I did– I missed you. I want you to tell me about the meeting.” 

“Yeah?” he asks softly. 

You have the feeling you’re being doted on. “Did Robin go?” 

“Let me just set us up and I’ll tell you. Okay?” 

You nod your agreement. Steve kisses the back of your hand absentmindedly and stands.

He shuts the curtains to hide the sunshine, clears away the jargon of the holoscreen against the wall, and closes the door. The room is big and the mess you’ve made since you fell ill the night of your wedding is expansive, taking ages to clean. By the time he’s done all this, you’re dozing again with the blanket pulled up to your nose. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, climbing into bed beside you. A kiss is placed on the edge of your eyelid. “You can sleep. We’ll talk about things when you’re feeling better.” 

“No, please tell me about today,” you croak. 

“Nothing really happened,” he says, up on one elbow, looking down at you lovingly. “They asked me when we’d begin our tour now we’re married.” His voice grows softer as he leans down, eyes on your lips. “I’ve asked for it to be pushed back. So they’ll wait until we’re ready.” 

“Mm. And news from the west?” 

“None.” He holds your face. “Sorry, you’re distractingly pretty today.” 

“Stop it.” 

“You are,” he says. He sounds playfully smug, or maybe he’s not playing at all. His tone is wry all the same, that slight fry that might make you pop a knee if you weren’t already wed. “I’m sorry you got so sick. I knew the wedding was going to be too much for you. I should’ve looked after you better.” 

“You didn’t make me sick.” 

“But the stress made it worse. I know it did.” 

“You shouldn’t believe everything the head doctor says. She made you eat dandelions for depression.” 

“I know, I was there,” he says, smiling down at you, eyes like dark dimes. “But she also recommended more fencing, and that did make me feel better.” 

You turn your face to the side and curl a tentative arm around him. “Can I have a hug?” you ask, and then, when he’s given you an enthusiastic yes and pulled you onto his chest, “I can nearly forget I’m sick.” 

“I can’t. You sound full of it, sweetheart.” Sweetheart said soft and quiet as a secret. Like he’s sorry and adoring at once. 

“It’s in my face.” 

“We’ll go to the sauna together later and clear you out.” 

Together? In your skivvies? If the sickness doesn’t kill you, the sauna with Steve alone certainly will. “I can’t tell if you’re being mean to me on purpose.” 

“Why would I do that? I like you. An embarrassing amount, I–” He clears his throat. 

You’re not sure what he would have said, but you like him too; you dive in to save him. “You’re like that, Steven, you mess with me.” 

“No, don’t start the Steven stuff again, I like it much more when you call me Steve. Remember when we first met, you’d only call me your prince? And you definitely wouldn’t have let me hold you.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” you plead through a nervous laugh. 

“Am I saying something wrong?”

He’s murmuring, nearly flirting —is it flirting if you’re married?— his arms threaded around you, his hair tickling your cheek as he leans down. “Not wrong…” Your eyes widen as he closes in. 

“Would a kiss make you feel any better?” 

“I’ll make you sick.” 

“Shouldn’t you? I’ve vowed to be with you in anything, haven’t I? In sickness…”

You hold your breath as his fans over your lips. 

“Just one?” he whispers.

“As many as you want,” you whisper back. “Just don’t get mad at me if you’re sick next week, Steve.”

“Never.” 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Telling Sukuna you're pregnant after not seeing him for 500 years

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: For more than 1.500 years, you found yourself in a love and hate relationship with none other than Ryomen Sukuna. But when he began to ignore you for more than 500 years, you decide to bind him to you forever - with the help of a pregnancy that shouldn't be possible...

Warnings: (y/n) is a real femme fatale aka bad bitch in this, mentions of smut, language language language, mentions of abuse towards Sukuna, mentions of pregnancy

Click here for Part ll

Your heels click against the floor casually as you swing your hips from side to side, a satisfied grin plastered on your face.

Finally. The sensation of his presence almost swallowed you whole just like it always did. Oh, how long you’ve waited for this damn moment, how you longed for him to finally appear again. Good for you that that brat decided to swallow your former lover back then.

Well, lover might be the wrong word to describe your relationship. Do you like Ryomen Sukuna? No, absolutely not. Just the thought of being around him sends your eyes into your skull immediately. Do you hate him?

“Can you shut up already? I’m…ah!”

“Stop talking, asshole”, you moaned against his parted lips, the sensation of him mercilessly thrusting into you almost swallowing you whole.

“You’re the worst woman I’ve ever met”, he hissed through gritted teeth, picking up his pace just the way you like it.

“I hate you”, you cried on top of your lungs while digging your nails into his shoulders to pull him even closer, to feel him even better.

You snort. Well, let’s just stay your relationship is rather complicated. But good for you, you took matters into your own hands.

“What do you think you’re doing there, huh?”, you casually question, bored eyes resting on that curse that kneels in front of the pink-haired boy.

“And who are you?”

Oh, it seems like this thing is a brave one. By the look of it and how he carries himself, he might be a special grade curse, he could be quite strong. But definitely not strong enough to even talk to you. You shake your head in amusement, fingers playing with a strand of hair.

“None of your business. I’m here to talk to Sukuna about something important, so get out the way before I drown you.”

“Get in line then. I am the one who will bring him back to life. He needs to assist us.”

“You must feel so brave and strong, huh? But still, you’re too dumb to realize who’s standing in front of you. Let me say it one last time, just because I’m in a good mood today: Get.out.my.way.”

You caress your belly mindlessly. Oh, you really do have some excited news. His face will be priceless when he hears your words. It’s his fault, after all. Who does he think he is to silently disappear for more than 500 years, leaving you alone without even saying goodbye? Looks like Sukuna is sick of you. Well, you’ll definitely bind him to you for the rest of your damned life. Maybe you should film it. What are those things called? Smartphones? Damn, you’re definitely too old for that dumb shit of those stupid humans.

“I’d get out of her way if I was you, curse. Or even better, go back where you came from and spare me with your bullshit, (y/n).”

That dark and unpromising voice, that annoyed undertone. Your eyes widen in nothing but excitement as well as your grin, unnecessary heart almost beating out of your chest. Finally, after all those years.

He’s back.

Ryomen Sukuna is finally back.

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s something very important we have to talk about”, you reply.

Hungrily, you take in his sight. He really does look different in that boy’s body. No wonder, after all he’s still a minor. You scrunch your nose, just the thought of getting close to this shell of a man…

Gross.

“Why are you looking at me like that, huh? Don’t you have somewhere to be, (y/n)?”

He can’t deny it, how desperately he has to supress a sly grin by just one look at you. How do you manage to always look this hot, to make his mind wander? Sukuna hates you with every fiber of his being, how you seem to always be two steps ahead of him. Him, the king of curses. Him, the one who should be in control. Him, who is technically stronger, older and more experienced than you. But oh, you do it so well while wearing that black dress and your pair of heels, the mischievous look on your face simply taking his breath away.

“Don’t worry about me pretty boy, I’m exactly where I should be”, you purr.

Elegantly, you bend down towards him, almost revealing your panties in the process. Your hand glides over his firm chest and wraps around his neck, putting pressure on his windpipe ever so gently.

“Would y’all mind to just leave? We need a little more privacy.”

Nobody dares to move, your sheer presence stopping both girls and Jogo in their tracks. You might not be as powerful as Sukuna, but the way you act alone is enough to tell them you are no one to be messed with.

And the stinging fact that the king of curses literally allows you to choke him.

“W-we…We need to talk to Sukuna”, a female voice behind you speaks out.

Urgh, is a simple no not enough? You roll your eyes in sheer annoyance, making Sukuna almost shiver in excitement of what comes next.

“Listen, I tried to be nice, but you brats are testing me. I don’t have time for stupid shit like that, okay?”

One snap. One little innocent movement of your finger is enough to slice both of their heads off in the split of a second, sparing the curse standing behind you only by inches.

“If you don’t want to die right here and now, leave before I’m completely losing it, curse.”

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Did something upset you?”

Your attention goes back to the force of a man in front of you, who lifts himself off the ground effortlessly.

“Well, I was pretty mad when I found out that you found a vessel and didn’t care enough to let me know. After all, I haven’t seen you in…how many years? 500, maybe?”

“Maybe you should leave, then. Because I didn’t miss you a single bit”, Sukuna suggests innocently.

Your bodies are so close to each other that he can’t ignore the heat radiating from your frame anymore. Why do you have to look so enticing in your short black dress? And what is that look on your face?

“Ouch, I’m here because I have something very important to tell you-“

“Get in line then, I don’t have time for your shit right now-“

Your nerves tingle in excitement when you pin him against the destroyed wall behind him.

This. This is the moment you worked you hard for, the moment you’ve been waiting for since he disappeared into darkness.

“I’m pregnant, Sukuna.”

The smile on his face disappears in an instant, you watch in sheer amusement as he turns pale as snow. This is too good to be true, absolutely priceless.

“So you fucked with somebody else, huh?”

“Both you and I know that it’s not possible for a simple human or curse to impregnate a woman like me.”

Oh, he knows damn well that you’re right. Frantically, he pushes his large hand against your stomach, searching for a sign of life. You have to be joking. He was gone for ages. And even though he wasn’t able to not get a taste of you, to not sink into your inviting flesh from time to time, there simply is no possibility, it can’t be true…

His soul leaves his body, breath getting stuck in his throat.

There it is, a tiny movement, a minor heartbeat.

You are indeed pregnant.

“There is no way”, he breathes out.

“Ask be how I did it.”

Your face is only inches away from his, maniac grin laughing down at him. You’ve had this plan in your mind for a long time. After he slipped through your fingers and didn’t return for literal years, you needed a plan. A plan to force him to stay by your side, a plan to bind him to you forever.

Ryomen Sukuna will always be yours. And you made sure of that.

“To be honest, it wasn’t hard to get what I needed for it. You aren’t especially careful when it comes to-“

“It shouldn’t even be possible”, he interrupts you breathlessly.

“You…You little bitch.”

You laugh at him hysterically as he throws you against the wall and chokes you until you see stars.

“Congrats, dear Sukuna. I’m sure you’ll be the best dad ever”, you choke out while sticking out your tongue.  

“And you’ll stay with me until the end of time.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @brycequinlansbrightpinkthong

[r0ttenhearts]

can I request a charac using reader who has a crush on them for their own benefits. while reader is left to wonder why chrc acts like a stranger to reader in public. eventually confronting chrc and them brushing it off as not noticing, being too busy. until reader eavesdropped to a convo with chrc's friend abt chrc just using reader. and reader leaves and ignores chrc for a while and chrc slowly starts missing reader's presence, only to see reader with someone else and confronting reader about it. of course charac won't get the happy ending 😈

(preferably scara, or childe-- if u write for him.)

feel free to ignore, I think I haven't expressed my req properly 😭😭.

also can I be 🌧️ anon ? :>

thanks 🌧️ anon for the request ^^ i hope you enjoy!

not your pet, anymore

scaramouche x reader

warnings: angst, arguments, insults, suggestive mentions

“you love me, right?”

“of course i do, scara. you mean so much to me.” you whispered, fingers running through his hair as he leaned against you. his thick eyelashes fluttered shut, hand on his chest as he lay against you.

the biting cold of fall couldn’t compare to the warmth you two shared, huddled together like this. his cheeks still tinted pink from the cold air, hands cold to the touch, it was just the way you liked him to be. cold enough for him to want to sit close to you and warm up.

touches were not a regular occurrence for scaramouche, he was normally dismissive, claiming he hated the closeness of skin on skin contact. but that wasn’t said when he’d tug at the end of your sweater, asking if he could feel more of your warmth. soft pants escaping your lips, his cold hands wandering, bodies on the cold floor of his bedroom. that’s how you’d spend your days after school.

but this time, with your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you finished up some of scaramouche’s homework he had passed on to you, something felt different. he was glued to his phone, an unusual smile gracing his lips as his thumbs danced across the device. you frowned, putting down your pen as you watched his face pull up in expressions you had rarely seen.

“who’re you talking to scara?”

“none of your business, (y/n).” he snapped, the smile he had been wearing for a few minutes dropping as his head snapped up to look at you. he sighed dramatically, getting up from the floor as he placed his phone down next to your hand, his face inches away from you.

“so damn nosy (y/n), when you should be doing my essay. are you bored? should i give you more work? or maybe i should let you suck me off, put your mouth to use. i think i like you better when you’re stuffing me in than anything you’ve ever said, anyway.” he sneered, enjoying the silence from you. a slight movement from you caused annoyance to bubbled up inside of him, his face unable to hide that itching feeling.

“you know, if you weren’t like this i’d be nicer to you, hell, maybe i’d love you. fat chance of that happening, i hate you most of the time. the only time i like your mouth open is when you’re making those pretty sounds for me, anything else is just muck.

why’re you so quiet, huh? are you gonna run off to your friends again? tell them how horrible i am? you think someone like collei will bother with you after you tell her what you do in here with me? how you open yourself to me? after swearing to her you’re done with me? you’re fucking something, (y/n). honestly, i’m getting sick of you. can you get the fuck out now?”

scaramouche’s phone buzzes, screen lighting up with a new text message. the both of you glance to it at the same time before he snatches it up, typing away a response as you gather your things without a word. biting your tongue was easier said then done, but you knew the argument would be worse if you said anything to him at all.

with a gentle click of scaramouche’s door, hours had gone by since you made your way home. a warm shower to rid of the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach, along with the stickiness scaramouche had left you. you weren’t enjoying this, not one bit.

you figured you’d talk to him tomorrow in class, apologize for your inconveniences to him, and have it return to how it usually was after a fight. if you could call it one.

what you didn’t expect was to see scaramouche sitting by the green haired girl, haypasia, his usual seat empty as they sat side by side. quietly setting your things down, you still thought to say good morning to him, as a sign of peace.

standing from your seat, you meekly stood in front of him, hands wringing in front of you nervously. “good morning scara, and haypasia, i was wondering if—“

scaramouche never looked at you the whole time you were standing in front of him, his eyes glued on haypasia as her eyes bore into yours. a bitter smirk on haypasia’s face as she waved you off, scaramouche rolling his eyes before continuing whatever conversation they were having before you interrupted him.

a pain started to form in your chest. that nauseating prick that you’d feel every time you knew scaramouche was fooling around with other girls. cold sweat was all you felt as class droned on, your eyes never leaving the back of scaramouche’s head as his hand would slip underneath haypasia’s desk, sliding her pieces of paper that she would giggle at or turn red to after reading.

why is he being like this? should you have said something yesterday? would the satisfaction of knowing he practically owned you satisfy him enough to not be like this? these thoughts ran through your head until it was time for lunch, that bell being something of a savior as you were freed from seeing him there with her.

childe’s loud laughs caught your attention as he stood with kazuha, an anxious look on the white haired boys face as his eyes locked with yours for a moment. “i mean, just look at her! everyone knows scara is just using her. i heard, he’s been sleeping with (y/n) so he’s good enough to do it with that other girl, whatever her name is. you know her, right kazuha? whatdya think? did you get a piece of her yet too? or is it just scara sinking his claws in her, and something else!”

kazuha’s nervous laugh as childe punched his arm spoke volumes as you stood up, clutching the strap of your bag. kazuha noticed the tears in your eyes as you ran out of the classroom, you had heard every word that came out of childe’s mouth. excusing himself, he ran after you, his soft taps of his feet on the floor in comparison to your loud, cluttered footsteps.

scaramouche heard about this from childe, his demeanor changing once childe gave him the details on how kazuha ran after you. he didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did. no one else should be acknowledging his pet, the one that was so compliant and listened to everything he asked of you.

that’s how he saw you, and that’s all you were to him. right? that egging feeling in his chest as his messages to you were now left on seen more often than not. your cat keychain you hung on your bag that “reminded you of him” being replaced by a charm of a maple leaf, the same one kazuha had on his bag.

it bothered him. and he didn’t try to hide it. every time you’d sit next to kazuha instead of him, he’d grumble under his breath. a part of him ached to see you bare on his bedroom floor again, your fingers running through his hair, your gentle kisses on his forehead when you’d put him to bed when he was in a foul mood. he actually missed you.

but why were you so distant now? surely kazuha wasn’t giving you something he wasn’t, right? he couldn’t. you’d always declared your loyalty to scaramouche, never once breaking it.

then why did you admit you were in love with kazuha? your hands together in front of scaramouche as he scoffs, taking you by the wrist the second those words left your mouth.

“come again? i think i misheard you (y/n). you said you were in love with me just last month. so how do you even think you have feelings for that poet?” his voice wavered, eyes scanning across your face for a sign, a hint of remorse or love that you once held for him.

you shake your head, taking your hand away from scaramouche’s grip but he tightens it anyway. his eyes bore into yours, begging, pleading for it not to be true. for you to laugh it off and say you were kidding.

“he’s.. kind. it’s unlike something i’ve had before, and.. it feels good. it feels good to be wanted, scara. something i never felt with you.”

“something i never felt with you”, those words rung in his head as he laughs loudly, fat tears spilling as he pulls you into his chest. your hands going to push him away as he holds you tightly, laughing through his tears.

“you promised me (y/n), you promised you’d stay. you said you’d stay with me forever, love me forever! please don’t be like them, please don’t let that be a lie.”

“let me go, scara. please.” you whispered, feeling him shake his head as his hands tighten around you.

“n-no, no.. i can’t lose you too. archons, i can’t. what did childe say (y/n)? i promise he didn’t mean it, whatever he said isn’t true! i swear.. let’s just, go back to how it used to be, yeah? you can come over like you used to and- and we just don’t have to have sex. we can do things you like! i swear.. so please..”

his tears had rolled down, coating your neck as he wept. you’d never seen him in such a desperate state. his eyes looking into yours for a hint of what used to be there for him, but there wasn’t. more tears rolled down his cheeks as he let you go. he had fucked up. again. and this time he lost you, the one thing he never thought he’d lose.

“i’m sorry, scara. i’ve moved on. i think you have too with haypasia, you’ll be okay.” you say before picking up your bag, leaving him standing there with a wreck of feelings in his chest.

“you’re just like the rest.” he spat under his breath, harshly wiping at his eyes as the tears continued to flow. a hateful sentence meant to comfort no one but himself. he knew you weren’t at fault for it, he knew one day you’d want something more of him, something he’d be reluctant to give you. the day you finally escaped the clutches of the toxic relationship he had given you, the same day he had deemed the end of his new beginning.

“i never got my forever with you, like you promised. i can’t apologize for hating you for it.”

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