#SO IF I MAKE THIS WILL SOMEONE EXPLAIN IT TO ME PLEASE AND THANKS

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Time changes everything. Interviews used to take place indoors, in studios, or in booked hotel rooms. The questions were serious—focused on economics, politics, or other weighty topics. Back then, only experts or public figures were deemed worthy of being interviewed.

But now, thanks to social media, interviews can happen anywhere. They’re no longer the domain of reporters or TV stations. Instead, anyone with a phone, a camera, and a microphone can conduct an impromptu interview in random places.

These spontaneous interviews often gain far more attention than their polished, scripted counterparts on TV. On the streets, people are asked silly, lighthearted questions, and their candid, often hilarious answers resonate more with viewers. They feel authentic and relatable, unlike the carefully curated responses of experts.

Some people never imagine their offhand comments will make them go viral. Take the girl who became famous overnight for her absurd response to a random question—she jokingly told someone to spit. It was ridiculous, but human nature is unpredictable. The absurdity drew millions of viewers, and just like that, she became an internet sensation.

Today, another viral moment is taking over the internet. The current trend? A simple, loaded question:

“If you were offered 1 million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Many people, interviewed alongside their partners, responded with sweet or heartfelt answers. But one woman gave a response that stopped everyone in their tracks:

“Give me 1 dollar. I’ll leave him this second.”

And the interviewer handed her the one dollar.

Her comment sparked chaos online. Most people laughed, seeing it as a joke and sharing it for its sheer absurdity:

“LMAO, this girl is my spirit animal!”

“She’s not wrong, though. 😂 Relationships are overrated!”

“The audacity! 😂😂😂”

However, not everyone found it funny:

“This is what’s wrong with society—no loyalty anymore.”

“Imagine being her partner and seeing this. Yikes.”

“If this is how people think these days, I’ll stay single forever.”

But there was one man who didn’t find it amusing at all.

He replayed the video, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his anger. The room was silent except for the faint hum of his phone’s speaker. His piercing gaze flicked to the woman sitting across from him as the video looped again.

Bucky Barnes hadn’t paid attention to what was happening online. As the CEO of the Lena Group, a leader in car and chip manufacturing, his schedule left little time for distractions. It wasn’t until his secretary and his mother mentioned the viral uproar that he decided to investigate.

Watching the clip now, he felt a surge of disbelief. Shock. Anger. He had worked tirelessly to build his empire, and yet here she was, casually dismissing him with a joke to a stranger.

“So,” he said, his voice cold as he set the phone down on the table, “you think I’m worth one dollar?”

She didn’t flinch under his icy glare. Instead, she calmly lifted her teacup, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. Her movements were measured, deliberate, as if his words carried no weight.

Meeting his gaze, she tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Now that I think about it,” she said, her tone casual, “70% discount sounds fair.”

His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, leaning forward, his voice sharper now.

Her expression didn’t waver. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m tired, Bucky. I’ve had enough.”

The room felt heavier, the unspoken words between them thickening the air.

His jaw clenched as he let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve got to be joking.”

His eyes searched your face for any hint of humor, anything to suggest you didn’t mean it. But there was none. Only calm resolve.

He looked at you—the woman he had married two years ago. The truth was, this wasn’t an ordinary marriage. It was what people called a contract marriage. But to Bucky, it was just business. Marriages forged to benefit two businesses had existed for ages, after all.

The so-called marriage contract was simply a guideline—a formal agreement to ensure both parties understood the terms, what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Many people chose contract durations of three or six years before going their separate ways. But Bucky had kept it simpler: a one-year contract, renewable if his wife agreed.

The reason he opted for this arrangement was to avoid the casualties of love. He’d seen it firsthand—his parents, who had started with love, had eventually torn each other apart, not literally, but close enough to leave scars on everyone involved. It was enough to make Bucky swear off traditional marriage altogether.

But his grandfather had other plans. “If you don’t marry, you’ll never inherit the company,” his grandfather had declared, determined to ensure his legacy stayed within the family. Having watched his son—a serial adulterer—destroy the family’s reputation, the old man had become obsessed with the idea of keeping his grandson grounded.

Bucky, however, had no interest in marriage. He had no desire for emotional entanglements or the drama that came with them. Yet his grandfather’s ultimatum left him with no choice. If he wanted to lead the company, he had to marry.

That was when he turned to a matchmaker agency, one well-known among his wealthy peers. It wasn’t cheap, but the agency had stellar testimonials, and they assured him they could find the perfect partner.

And they did.

That’s where he met you. You, too, were looking for something unconventional. You weren’t interested in traditional marriage and came from a good family background, which made introducing you to his parents remarkably easy. Despite his parents’ separation, you navigated the introductions with grace, impressing his mother and, surprisingly, his father.

The wedding happened quickly. You were the ideal partner—easygoing, understanding, and undemanding. When the first year of the contract ended, Bucky asked if you wanted to continue. You had simply smiled and said, “Yes.”

To him, that was enough.

Two years had passed since then, and he thought everything was fine. You never complained, never asked for anything more than the life you had agreed upon. He thought you were content. He thought you were okay.

But now, standing before you on the last day of the contract, he couldn’t reconcile the image he had of your quiet satisfaction with your answer in that viral video.

He stared at you, confused and hurt. “Why did you say it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Why give that answer? I thought everything was fine.”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you glanced at your watch, casually checking the time. “I’m not,” you said, your voice calm, almost detached. “At 12 a.m., our marriage contract will be over. By tomorrow morning, I won’t be here.”

His mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came out. He reached for the black tea you had placed in front of him earlier, taking a sip. It had gone lukewarm—neither hot nor cold, a temperature he despised. It mirrored the hollow, uncomfortable feeling gnawing at his chest.

Finally, he set the cup down with a dull clink. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, his voice firmer now, though tinged with weariness.

You said nothing in return, merely turned and walked away.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next morning, when he woke up, sunlight was already streaming through the curtains. His eyes flicked to the clock on his nightstand—10 a.m. He sat up abruptly, his head spinning slightly from the sudden movement.

He rarely ever slept this late. For years, he had trained himself to wake by 5 a.m., no matter how little sleep he’d had the night before. Even on his most exhausting days, he never overslept. At most, he might sleep in until 6 or 7 a.m., but 10? Never.

Rubbing his temples, he tried to piece it together. What had made him sleep like this? He thought back to the night before, to your calm words, to the tea…

His hands froze mid-motion. The tea.

A surge of realization hit him. You drugged him.

He swung his legs out of bed, his movements sharp and full of urgency. Throwing on a robe, he stormed out of the bedroom, his voice cutting through the quiet house. “Where is she?”

The housemaid appeared, her expression hesitant and unsure. “She left, sir. Early this morning.”

His jaw tightened as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And she didn’t say anything? Not a word?”

The maid paused, then held out a small item. “She left this, sir.”

He grabbed the velvet box from her hand, his chest tightening as he opened it. His breath caught at the sight of your wedding ring nestled inside.

For two years, he had worn his own wedding ring daily, thinking of it as nothing more than a piece of jewelry. But now, staring at your ring, it felt heavier than it should, as though it carried the weight of your departure.

Inside the ring box, you left the same crumpled dollar bill. It sat there like a cruel punchline, mocking everything he thought both of you had built together—a final, silent reminder of just how little she thought he was worth.

He set the box down on the table, his eyes scanning the room. When they landed on the wardrobe, he froze. It was still full. You hadn’t taken a single thing.

His mind raced. Where could you have gone? How did you vanish so quickly?

He reached for his phone, dialing his security team with shaky fingers. After two rings, someone picked up.

“Where is she?” he barked, his voice tight with frustration, the tension unmistakable.

The security officer on the other end hesitated. “Mrs. told us… madam wanted to meet her.”

His brows furrowed. “My mother?”

“Yes, sir. She’s in another state.”

That meant only one thing. You had gone to the airport.

“Did she take the private jet or a commercial plane?” he demanded.

“Commercial, sir. It was a last-minute trip, and we hadn’t prepared the jet.”

Bucky’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles whitening. His jaw clenched as frustration surged within him. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the sheer incompetence of his team. You fucking idiot. The words pounded in his mind, but he bit them back, forcing himself to stay composed.

“Who bought the ticket?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“It was Mrs. who purchased the ticket herself.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience wearing thin. He wanted nothing more than to explode, but he kept his voice steady. “Find out where she went.” Without waiting for a response, he ended the call.

Immediately, he dialed his mother. The line connected after a single ring.

“Hello.”

“I’m glad you called,” she said briskly. “Do you know what’s going on right now?”

His grip on the phone tightened. “Did you ask her to meet you?”

“Me? No, I—”

He ended the call before she could finish. That ruled out her involvement.

His mind raced as he considered the possibilities. If you had boarded a plane, he could easily track your destination. But the other option loomed: that the airport was a decoy. You had used his mother’s name as an excuse, ensuring your movements would go undetected by his security team, who clearly hadn’t been following you as closely as they did him.

Bucky’s phone buzzed. The confirmation from his team came through, and the news made his blood boil.

“Mrs. bought a plane ticket but didn’t get on the plane,” the head of security reported.

“Did you check the surveillance cameras?” he snapped.

“Yes, sir. We’ve reviewed the footage. There’s a woman with a similar appearance to madam who rented a car at the airport.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration mounting. He sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly to keep his temper in check. So, it’s option two. You’re still in the same state.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, pacing the room. He could feel the tension radiating through his body. “At least you didn’t go far.”

Without wasting another second, he barked into the phone, “Chase the car. Check every schedule she might have left behind, and contact her friends. I want updates—fast.”

Ending the call, he threw the phone onto his desk with a sharp clatter. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against the desk, staring out the window as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. For someone who always had the upper hand, this was new territory. And he hated it.

Bucky sat in his office chair, staring at the empty ring box on his desk. His mind swirled with unanswered questions. Why had you suddenly left without a word? Both of you had been such a good team—practical, efficient, and untroubled by the complications that plagued most marriages. At least, that’s what he thought.

If he could, he would turn back time and relive the past few months, examining every moment you’d spent together. Had he missed something? Made a mistake? Or had something happened that he was completely unaware of? The uncertainty gnawed at him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“We found her. But…”

“What?!” he barked, standing abruptly.

“It’s not Mrs.,” the security team clarified hesitantly.

A chill ran down his spine. “Then who is it?”

“It’s her friend, sir.”

His stomach tightened, and for the first time in years, Bucky felt a flicker of fear. He thought he was closing in, that you were still within his reach. But now, you were out of his watch, slipping further away with every passing second.

“Secure her. I’m going to meet her,” he ordered, his voice cold and sharp.

“Yes, sir.”

"Prepare the car," Bucky ordered, his voice cold and demanding.

"But, sir, you have a meeting at 2 p.m", his assistant replied, hesitant.

Bucky shot him a sharp glare, his jaw tightening.

The assistant quicklu nodded. "I'll reschedule it, sir," he muttered avoiding Bucky's piercing gaze.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Minutes later, Bucky arrived at a quiet café where Grace was waiting under the watchful eye of his security team. The moment he saw her, he recognized her immediately—your friend, the one who had attended your wedding. Grace was the only person you had trusted with the details of this marriage contract.

Bucky approached the table, his expression unreadable, but his clenched fists betrayed the storm brewing inside him.

“Where is she?” His voice was steady, but there was an edge of desperation he couldn’t fully mask.

Grace avoided his gaze, staring down at the steaming cup of coffee in front of her.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I could raise my voice at you, but I won’t. Grace, please. Tell me where she is.”

Grace finally looked up, her expression guarded. “As far as I know, last night was the last day of your marriage. Today, she’s a free woman.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, Bucky’s mask slipped. He stared at her, bewildered, the weight of everything sinking in. What had he done to make you leave? Had he overlooked something so significant? And why did Grace seem to despise him so much?

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed again. He stepped aside to take the call, his jaw tightening as he listened.

“Sir, we’ve reviewed additional footage. Mrs. used Grace’s ID to purchase another ticket. She’s already on the plane.”

Bucky’s grip on the phone tightened. His gaze snapped back to Grace, who was now watching him warily.

“Grace,” he began, his voice sharper this time. “I’m asking you again. Where is she?”

Grace shook her head, her tone calm but firm. “I don’t know.”

His frustration boiled over. He leaned forward, his palms flat on the table as he stared her down. “Don’t lie to me, Grace.”

She didn’t flinch. “I’m not lying. You don’t know anything about her.”

Her words struck a nerve, leaving him momentarily speechless. He straightened, trying to collect himself, but his mind was racing. Don’t know anything about her? He hated the implication.

“She trusted you,” he said, his voice low. “You were the only one who knew about the arrangement, the only one she confided in.”

“And that’s why I won’t betray her trust now,” Grace replied evenly.

Author Note: Do you found this interesting? Would you like it to be continued?

[ethtyn]

LET'S GO OUT WITH A BANG 🚦

taglist:

@ashiyn @single-malt-scotch @goodtimeswithetho @pebbltree @crabbunch @catmaidetho @amethyst-allium @stitchthesewords

sooooo ermm i guess i get to talk about this piece now YIPPEE

i am one of those people who's constantly trying to figure out what their own art style looks like LMFAO. i take frequent breaks from art due to mental health shit so it feels like every time i come back i'm trying to find my footing again.

that being said, i had a lot of caffeine yesterday and started this on a whim and it ended up being something i'm incredibly proud of. i think it helps that i've been redrawing old emotes for a friend's twitch channel, so figuring out which brushes i like right now was really helpful, and i ended up using my personal emote palette like...a lot. that pink in Etho's eye, the purple used for shading, most of the browns are all used in my own emotes. it's wild how much having colours already picked out streamlines things!

Etho is the one i started with, of course, and ended up being one that i went back to re-draw after i'd done...three? or four? more, because the sizing wasn't right and i wasn't happy with the posing. i still wish i could have conveyed him dipping his chin into his coat fluff a little better, but oh well. i thought of the little detail of him looking at Martyn's drawing at the last second (#ethtyn4life) and it made me laugh so i did it. points to you if you caught that!

Joel was the second - life!Joel has always been fey in my head, especially after that season when he just went batshit insane the second he turned red. can't explain it, that's just how it be. i tried to give him an air of subtle menace about him but i think he just looks sleepy 💀 i'd like to do these as individual, larger pieces at some point, so maybe i can work on that more then.

Grian was the third - he reminds me of a Lost Boy here and that wasn't intentional but the Lost Boys always kind of freaked me out and life!Grian's kinda freaky so i think it fits. his little smirk is so creepy and i love him.

i don't remember who i did next after this so we'll just go in order pfft

Bdubs is SO CUTE look at him. one of the few where i couldn't make a menacing expression work, and honestly with how good his profile turned out i barely mind. i did that side profile with no reference, y'all, idk what kind of crack i was on last night. what the hell. this was about the point where i started wanting to do little lore doodles for everybody so i added the clock face - i think it clashes with the red background but what can you do.

CLEOOOOOO CLEO CLEO. i LOVED drawing them, i think their design is one of my favourites of the bunch. her hair has always been snakes in my head and AGAIN i drew those with no reference, can you fucking believe that. i loved the little detail of some of the snakes poking at the people next to her, they're so cute hehe. also Cleo has freckles now, i'm so sorry but i don't make the rules. someone complimented the teeth in the reblogs and THANK YOU!! they're not quite anatomically correct but fuck it we ball and they look cool as hell anyway.

Martyn is so smug, i love him. points if you caught that he's looking at Cleo bc Double Life, i wanted to do something a lil different with him than just another straight up symmetry tool drawing and i think it fits. he is so eye-searing tho sir please tone it down.

Lizzie is fey just like her husband, and also she is smol. i don't think it's conveyed as well as i'd like here but i also didn't want her to look like a straight-up child so i did what i could. she is So Scary with those vacant blue eyes oh my god. and drawing her hair was sooooo fun i love long hair ahh

with Gem i basically smoothed out a rough design sketch i posted awhile back and i'm so proud of the little head cock she's got going on, she looks so cool. also her hair?? idk how i did that. i love her swoopy bangs so much.

Pearl is moth. Pearl will always be Moth. so she got lil antennae and big buggy eyes. drawing that hood was so satisfying, i used to try and draw Raven Teen Titans in high school and could never get the hood to look right so seeing this one come out perfectly was sooooo good. and of course had to include a teensy moon.

that's all i've got, i think - i feel myself crashing LMFAO. maybe at some point i'll come back and say more but here's this for now!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [5] l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  smut, fingering, kissing, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, Murphy shows up, alcohol

A/N: I don't know how many people read this series, but I wanted to add another chapter. Maybe I can make someone happy with it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

[masterlist]

You turned down the TV and sat up on the couch, someone was knocking on the door. It was already late Friday evening, which you decided to spend at home. After Messina announced that O'Connell had been urgently called to the States, you felt calmer. That's why you didn’t go to any pub or place like that.

The knock repeated and you finally approached the door.

"Javier?" the man on the other side smiled “What are you doing here?”

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a little confused.

"No. But it's late. Is something wrong?"

He raised his hand, in which he held the bottle of whiskey, and waved it, smiling slyly.

"I won the bet," he boasted.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the door frame, looking at him with interest. Peña was pleased to note that you were wearing a green baggy t-shirt, probably from the department's supply, and your hair was still damp from the shower. You looked nice.

"There was a bet, back at the office. The guys were betting on when O'Connell would give up and come home." Javier explained. "And I won."

"You bet he'd leave right now?"

"No. I said someone would punch him in the face."

You burst out laughing. And even Peña laughed, still holding his bottle in front of you.

"We're partners, so you deserve it, too."

"Oh! How generous of you! You flatter me, Agent Peña."

You bit your lip as if you were thinking about something, then gently pushed the door open, nodding slightly. 

He entered the room, bringing with him the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke.

"I wasn't expecting guests." You announced, pulling glasses out of the cabinet.

"I was wondering if I'd find you home." He mumbled, unscrewing the bottle and giving you a furtive glance. "Didn't you want to go out somewhere?"

You put the glasses down on the coffee table with a clatter and sat down on the couch, pulling your legs under you. "I wasn't in the mood. I think I'll skip places like that for a while."

Javier poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to you, sitting next to you.

"¡Salud!" He raised his glass in a toast, and you did the same. "What are we drinking to?"

"Peace of mind." You replied. "Unless you have other suggestions?"

"Naah. That's good too."

You tipped the glasses down and Javier filled them again.

"Nobody's waiting for you?" you asked as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one. "I think you'd find better company than me."

"Oh! I definitely would!" Javier chuckled, blowing a wisp of smoke from his mouth. "Don't tell anyone I came here, you'll only ruin my reputation."

You laughed and covered your eyes with your hand as if you were thinking about something. "God! Can you imagine that?" Javier raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What the girls in the office say about you, what the guys say about me... And what would they say if we started sleeping together? Damn! Loise would go gray in an hour."

"Murphy would beat the shit out of me." Javier stated, sipping his drink. "He probably thinks you're too good for me."

"And he's right." you shrugged "I could be with the commander, but I'd trade him for a simple agent? Sorry, Peña, no chance."

"Fuck, you're a menace." he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

It was nice. He sat with you, talked about work and life. Melancholic stories from your past life, no plans for the future, because where you were you didn't really plan anything. Neither of you delved deeper, because why would you, it was just a friendly conversation over a Friday night drink.

After the third glass, he noticed your legs, exactly when you got up to go to the bathroom. The skimpy shorts gave Javier room for imagination. His eyes, dark as night, followed you involuntarily, and then he cleared his throat.

The alcohol was coursing through his veins, he felt hot, so he took off his jacket and threw it on the armchair next to him, rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even hear you come back. Only the feeling of you sitting down next to him, the smell of your shampoo caught his attention.

"I'm a terrible housekeeper." you stated finishing your drink, Javier raised his head looking at you with interest "I don't have anything to eat, nothing I could give you." you pouted and he chuckled.

"Please, hermosa." he sighed "If I wanted to eat something, I would take you out for dinner. I have a hard time believing you cook anything yourself, to be honest."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise "You're suggesting that..."

"I'm not suggesting anything." he interrupted you and instinctively placed his hand on your thigh, stroking it gently "You just work a lot, like me."

"Maybe if we had someone to cook for sometime..." you pondered, completely not noticing his gesture, which only made Javier not withdraw his hand "Murphy and Connie, they definitely cook."

"Not as often as they both might claim." he raised an eyebrow and you laughed "But Connie is good at it. Anyway, you'll find out tomorrow."

"It's nice that they invited me, I guess..." you lowered your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed "I mean... We don't know each other that well, right?"

Peña frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about? If it wasn't for you, they would still be collecting our fragments from the surrounding trees by now."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true." he moved closer to you, his hand moved higher, now resting on your hip, his thumb stroking your body hidden under your shirt. Neither of you felt embarrassed by this, maybe it was because of the drinks you had, or maybe it was that night. "You're doing a great job here. Everyone can see it."

"They think I'm a slut." you mumbled almost incomprehensibly and Javier had to tilt his head slightly to hear your words "No matter what I do, I'm labeled an easy girl. You know... I try not to worry about it, people will always talk, but sometimes... Sometimes it hurts."

He grabbed your chin and lifted it slightly. Beautiful brown eyes stared at you intently. "The most important thing is what you think about yourself. Double standards suck, you said so yourself and you were right. Surely if I say you're the coolest chica in the office, it won't change anything, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Please..."

"And you have the prettiest legs." Peña added quickly, you chuckled "Your smile is also very pretty. And when you're excited about something, your eyes widen and shine so nicely." you snorted, your hand closing over his, which was still holding your chin. "And when you yelled at me the first time, I got hard."

The smile disappeared from your lips, which slightly widened in surprise. You fell silent, both of you a little surprised by this bold confession.

"Javier..."

His name was quieter than a whisper, but he heard it clearly. He leaned even closer. Warm breath brushed your lips.

"This is really a very bad idea." you said with difficulty.

"You can stop me, hermosa." His lips lightly brushed yours, you closed your eyelids, inhaling the air.

"Did I really make you hard?"

"Mhmm..." you didn't see the smile of satisfaction on his lips. "They call it difficult working conditions."

It was a split second and you felt his lips on yours. All dilemmas disappeared, and when you kissed him back he knew he was gone. Your hands instantly found their way to his face, your fingers tangled in soft hair and you pulled him closer, parting your lips.

An invitation that Javier read flawlessly. His tongue slipped into your mouth, you tasted the whiskey, and that was even more captivating for him. The kisses were intense, deep as if you both could finally give vent to what had been brewing inside you for a long time. You felt him squeeze your buttock and you moaned, but his tongue effectively muffled you. So you didn't wait for anything more, in an instant you slid onto his lap and clung to his body. Javier felt your breasts under the thin T-shirt, you didn't have a bra. He knew that, of course he had already glanced at your breasts, but when he felt it…

You pulled away from his lips for a moment and looked into his dark eyes.

"You can back out at any time. No hard feelings." you said. "I don't want you to feel..."

"Used?" Javier laughed quietly. "I guess I'm the one who should be saying things like that, don't you think?" his hands gripped your buttocks tighter, making you feel the bulge in his jeans.

"Oh!"

"That's a clear answer, I guess."

He lifted himself up and his lips captured yours again. The excitement grew in your lower abdomen with every passing second, with every kiss and touch. His strong hands shamelessly slid under your shirt, first stroking your back, and after a moment he grabbed your breasts. He kneaded your tits, rolled your nipples between his fingers, and you moaned as much as his tongue in your mouth would allow you.

"Take it off." he ordered, tugging at your shirt.

"Do it yourself."

"You're something else, you know that?"

You bit your lip, smiling obediently, raising your arms up so the shirt could be removed. Javier kissed you the second your lips peeked out from behind your collar. Damn, he was a threat to you.

Large hands explored your body, testing every inch of it, teasing every nerve. Could you want more? God, you didn't have to ask, he wanted to give it all to you.

When he slid his hand into your shorts, you gasped loudly.

"Fuck, you've got a real pool here, sweetheart." he mumbled, smiling slyly. "Would you like me to take care of that?"

A nod.

"Words, hermosa. Just words."

"Yes, please."

He ran his fingers over your folds, hot and wet, knowing perfectly well that he would be able to slide them inside without a problem. And so he did. And when you threw your head back, sighing quietly, he marveled at how wonderful the sight was.

Hot lips closed over one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue, fingers moving in and out, searching for that spot that could take you apart.

"Shit, Javier..." you moaned.

You clenched your fingers in his hair, hips rising slowly and rhythmically as he finger fucked you. Why did this have to feel so good? You couldn't remember the last time you felt like this, when someone had made you feel so...

"Oh fuck!"

"I think I found it." Javier chuckled, kissing your cleavage, your skin was slightly salty from sweat but still smelled of soft soap and you "I'm holding you, hermosa, take what you need."

He crossed his fingers with his thumb massaging your clit, the pressure was perfect and soon he felt your walls clench around his fingers, your body tensing and you held your breath for a moment feeling the pleasure spread through your body.

You rested your head on Javier's shoulder breathing deeply, his hands stroking your thighs sending a pleasant shiver through your heated skin.

"That was the first one." Peña finally spoke.

"The first one?" you lifted your head and looked at him curiously "Planning more of these?"

"Oh, sweetheart..." he sighed, brushing the strands of hair from your face, then bringing his lips to yours and stealing a tender kiss "At least two more tonight." another kiss "Two in the morning." another one "And how much more will you allow me to have with you, because - fuck - I want to see you cum again. I knew I'd get in trouble with you."

Your hand stroked the back of his neck, you could probably let him have a little more of you.

It was like an addiction. Javier was addicted, and you were his best drug. Before he knew it, you were crawling under his skin, coursing through his veins, and rushing to his head. Sometimes it felt like every time he saw you, his addiction grew.

His fingerprints were all over your body, and he proudly wore yours, even though no one was around to see it. You kept the fact that you were dating a secret, even though you never talked about it like that.

God! You never thought you could fall for a guy like that, and even more so that you would let him do things like that to you. Because sex with Javier was on another level. 

Never before, no one had made you feel so desired, enough, beautiful, and fulfilled. Peña gave you the best orgasms, the ones that left you silent for a moment afterwards because you couldn't form a grammatically correct sentence in your head. The sleep problems disappeared and lazy mornings were something you loved doing with him. 

His sleepy eyes, his hot body, his ruffled hair... In the dictionary, next to the word 'sex', they should have put a picture of Javier, you were sure of that.

In your apartment or in his, in the car in the parking lot, or at work in some tight space, because you wanted a quickie. It was getting more and more intense and what you were feeling was starting to scare you a little. A little over three weeks since O'Connell left, and you felt really good. For a while.

The information about the mole in the office was bothering Messina and she had talked to you about it many times. You promised that you would revolve around it, but for some time you hadn't found any new leads. It was frustrating.

"I talked to informants, but no one would tell me anything." You muttered one evening, resigned.

Peña opened a beer and sat down with his ordered food. "Maybe you're looking in the wrong places? Maybe it's not some higher agent or something?"

"But all this information that's been leaking..." you sighed.

“Honestly, many people have access to it. Hermosa, stop stabbing your food with fork and start eating,” he replied, gesturing to your plate.

However, your gaze drifted away for a moment. Javier noticed it after a moment, huffed impatiently. "Hermosa." he repeated warningly.

"Hmm?"

"You'll have cold food." he shook his head in disbelief. "I really don't know why I'm here with you."

You looked up from your plate and smiled. Your foot, under the table, slowly slid up his leg and headed for his crotch, rubbing it lightly. "I think I know why."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. It was nice, what was between you. Although neither of you named it. The sex was fucking amazing, you could talk or not talk at all and Javier loved it. You didn't pressure him, you didn't expect declarations or confessions. You took what he gave you, you gave just as much.

And eventually both of you started eating more or less regularly, although the last attempt at cooking ended in burnt chicken, because when Javier came back from work he had a strong urge to get into your panties.

He grabbed you at the ankle and squeezed lightly which made you smile, he loved it. You spent quite a lot of time together and he slowly started to notice the little things he liked about you. Your smile was his favorite though.

"Murphy and I have to go out of town. We'll be gone for a few days." he said watching you as you reached for his beer and took a few sips.

"Anything important? Do you have new sources?" you asked, frowning.

Javier nodded "Yeah, we want to check them out. We also need to watch one guy."

"Okay. Just watch your backs. I won't be able to save your asses there." You squealed as he gripped your calf tighter and pulled you so hard you almost fell off the chair "Peña! Fuck you!"

"You wish." he chuckled, but then turned serious "You watch your back too, hermosa. Promise me that."

And you promised, and then you gave him something so he wouldn't forget about you and would have something to think about when he and Murphy were out of town.

"Will you miss me?"

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

"I think you will." Javier stopped the car in front of the office building and turned off the engine.

It was still early, the streets were empty. You were enjoying your last moments together. His hand on your thigh squeezed you lightly, it was nice.

"Tell me you'll miss me." He looked at you with a gentle smile and those eyes of a poor puppy. "I know you have a soft spot for me."

"You wish!" you chuckled.

"I will."

There was something in his tone of voice that made the laughter die on your lips. Those ambiguous sentences made your heart beat faster, but you calmed it down every time. You didn't want it to happen so soon. And what was that anyway?

"Maybe a little." You finally sighed, his lips stretched into a smile.

"Kiss me, hermosa."

It wasn't a request, more of an order, but you didn't mind. Javier moved closer, you stroked his cheek tenderly, and then you let his lips brush yours. At first gently, because he was teasing you, and he loved doing that. Finally, you curled your fingers in his hair and Javier slid his tongue between your lips, you moaned. His hand grabbed your waist as if he wanted to pull you even closer. Damn, he kissed like a dream.

Another brush of lips, another tender touch. Finally, he rested his forehead against yours and sighed. "Maybe we still have time, huh? Murphy will definitely be late."

"I don't think so." you replied quietly.

"He's always late."

“But not today.”

Javier looked at you, surprised, and then turned around. Steve was standing in front of the hood of his car, his glasses slid down his nose and he looked at you with disbelief on his face.

You opened the door. "I guess I'll go now." you said, smiling uncertainly, "Take care of yourselves."

"You too, hermosa." Javier replied, sitting down in his seat and putting on his glasses.

Steve nodded in your direction, then walked over to the car. "Really?" he asked, staring at his friend, "You and her? Really?"

Peña didn't even look at him, "Get in."

"Is that why you haven't been so annoying lately?" Murphy chuckled, but got in and closed the door with a soft click.

The engine started and the car slowly rolled down the road.

It was strange. They managed to come back a day early. He wanted to surprise you. He even bought some oranges, which you liked so much lately. But the apartment door was closed. Javier kept knocking for a while. He glanced at his watch. It was late, so you should have…

"She left." The older man peeked out from behind the neighboring door and glared at Javier.

"Long time ago?" he asked, surprised.

The man shrugged. "I don't remember. But she looked really nice." He smiled slightly. “You must have been late, boy. If she’s not here yet…”

Javier nodded and quickly went down the stairs. Something strange tightened his insides. He didn't expect this...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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[zeroseuniverse]

Crazy For You

Word Count: 1.3K Summary: “I’m just saying,” Wooyoung replied with a shrug, his grin widening. “Next time, aim all that fury my way. Promise I can handle it.” Yunho groaned from his cell, his voice low and exasperated. “Don’t encourage her, Wooyoung.” “Oh, I’m not encouraging,” Wooyoung quipped, winking at her. “I’m begging.” Pairing: Wooyoung X Fem! Reader X Yunho

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The detention facility loomed like a concrete nightmare, every inch of it designed to suffocate hope. Rows of cells stretched endlessly, their occupants subdued by dim lights and the oppressive weight of silence. The only sounds that occasionally broke the monotony were the heavy boots of guards or the faint, haunting hum of despair.

Cellblock C housed the most dangerous mutants. Or so the guards claimed. Among them were Yunho and Wooyoung, two prisoners who had garnered reputations for their defiance, even under the harshest conditions.

Yunho sat on the floor of his cell, his back pressed against the cold wall, his posture deceptively relaxed. His eyes, however, tracked every movement beyond the bars with sharp precision. Wooyoung, in the cell across from him, leaned casually against the bars, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the metal.

The air shifted when she walked in, the sound of her steady steps drawing both their attention. She carried a tray of food, the smell hardly appetizing, but her presence was a rare reprieve in this hellish place.

“Look who’s here,” Wooyoung drawled, his lips curving into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Our favorite guard. Did you miss us?”

She rolled her eyes, setting down the trays. “I don’t think anyone misses you, Wooyoung.”

“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning a wound. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

“Cut it out,” Yunho said quietly, though there was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

She glanced between the two of them, her voice soft but firm. “You should eat. I don’t know how much longer I can keep sneaking extra food your way before someone notices.”

Yunho’s expression hardened, his gaze locking onto hers. “You shouldn’t risk yourself for us.”

“And you shouldn’t be here,” she shot back, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Neither of you deserves this.”

Wooyoung’s teasing demeanor faltered for a moment, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you? A guard who actually cares.”

She ignored him, turning to leave, but his voice stopped her.

“Thank you,” Wooyoung said, the sincerity in his tone a rare glimpse beneath his usual bravado.

She didn’t respond, only tightening her grip on the tray as she walked away.

Behind her, Yunho watched her retreating figure, his jaw tight. “She’s going to get herself hurt.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, his grin returning. “Then we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Days blurred into weeks in the cold monotony of the detention facility. She couldn’t explain why she lingered longer in Cellblock C during her shifts. Perhaps it was guilt, knowing that so many guards treated mutants like nothing more than rabid animals. Or maybe it was the way Yunho’s quiet strength and Wooyoung’s relentless wit reminded her that they were still human.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Yunho asked one day, his deep voice cutting through the silence as she placed a tray of food in front of his cell.

She paused, her grip tightening on the tray as she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re different,” he said simply, his dark eyes fixed on her face. “The others don’t care if we starve. They don’t look at us like… people.”

Wooyoung leaned casually against the bars of his cell across the hall, his grin sharp and teasing. “Maybe she’s in love with us. I mean, I wouldn’t blame her. We are pretty charming, don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes. “Charming isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Come on,” Wooyoung continued, ignoring her jab. “Why else would you risk bringing us extra food? Or stop those idiots from pushing us around?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she snapped, her voice low but firm. “I’m not like the others.”

“No,” Yunho agreed, his tone quiet but resolute. “You’re not.”

For a moment, the air between them was heavy with unspoken words. Then she broke the silence, stepping back and adjusting the strap of her utility belt. “Just… eat your food. And try not to get yourselves in trouble.”

One evening, during a routine patrol, she stumbled upon a group of guards cornering Wooyoung in his cell. They jeered and prodded at him, laughing cruelly as he stood silent, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Back off,” she ordered, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

The guards turned to her, their expressions ranging from annoyance to amusement. “What’s the matter?” one of them sneered. “You got a soft spot for these freaks?”

She stepped forward, her hand resting on the baton at her hip. “Leave him alone. That’s an order.”

The lead guard laughed, stepping closer to her. “You think you can tell us what to do? You’re just as much of a freak-lover as these—”

He didn’t finish his sentence. She sent a fist to connect with his jaw before he could blink, sending him stumbling back.

Wooyoung watched the scene with wide eyes before a slow grin spread across his face. “She’ll hurt him if he touches her again,” he said, his voice laced with anticipation. “And honestly? I’d love for her to lose it. On me, though. No one else.”

The other guards hesitated, their bravado crumbling under her icy glare.

“Get out,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “Now.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances before muttering curses and slinking away. She stood there, her shoulders tense and her fists clenched, still vibrating with anger.

Wooyoung leaned lazily against the bars, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I like it when you go psycho,” he said, his tone teasing but tinged with something darker. “But if you ever waste that energy on someone who isn’t me again, I’ll lose my mind.”

She shot him a sharp look, caught off guard by his words. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” Wooyoung replied with a shrug, his grin widening. “Next time, aim all that fury my way. Promise I can handle it.”

Yunho groaned from his cell, his voice low and exasperated. “Don’t encourage her, Wooyoung.”

“Oh, I’m not encouraging,” Wooyoung quipped, winking at her. “I’m begging.”

The chaos came without warning. Explosions rocked the facility as alarms blared and the walls trembled. The Marauders had launched an attack, and the prisoners were taking full advantage of the confusion.

She tried to maintain order, her heart pounding as she ushered guards and staff toward the emergency exits. She had no intention of abandoning her post, but fate had other plans.

“Hey!” Yunho’s voice called out, sharp and commanding.

She turned to see him and Wooyoung moving through the smoke-filled corridor, their expressions set with determination.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You need to get out of here!”

Wooyoung grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, we’re leaving. And you’re coming with us.”

Before she could protest, Yunho grabbed her firmly, holding her still as Wooyoung swiftly pressed a syringe to her arm. Her struggles weakened almost instantly, her furious glare softening into a haze as the sedative took hold.

When she woke up, her head throbbed, and her limbs felt heavy. She blinked against the dim light of a small, unfamiliar room.

“Good morning,” Wooyoung’s voice chimed from somewhere nearby. “Did you sleep well?”

Her eyes narrowed as she sat up, realizing the truth. “Did you sedate me?”

“We had to,” Yunho said calmly, entering the room with a glass of water. “You were being difficult.”

“You kidnapped me!” she exclaimed, her frustration boiling over.

“We saved you,” Yunho corrected, his tone steady. “The guards don't deserve you.”

Wooyoung leaned against the doorframe, his smile softening. “You deserve better. And we can give it to you.”

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 2

Max Fewtrell x Norris!reader

Lando Norris x Sister!reader

Daniel Riccardo x Norris!reader

summary: You and max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

series masterlist | masterlist | previous | next

-

“I hate people” You say as you sit down at the small table in Daniel’s kitchen. He sets breakfast on the table and raises an eyebrow “I know, but why now?”

You turn your phone to him and show him the post that kika had send you earlier in the morning “Is it that unbelievable that two super attractive people are friends?” You chuckle at his words which makes him smile.

It slowly fades “Has lando said anything to you about it?” You shake your head but lean a bit back “Actually.. He did ask me yesterday what we are” Daniel raised an eyebrow “Really? And how did that go down?”

“Told him we’re friends. Then I asked why. He said he was just wondering and then told me to forget he asked” You shrug and take a bite of your breakfast.

“Hm. A tad weird no?” He says, sipping his coffee. You shrug “He can believe whatever he wants. And he’ll know where to find me if he has questions” Daniel nods and focuses back on his food.

“So, what is the plan for today?” You ask curious “Well, I’d say finally going to let you hold a koala and I got an invite to a party. You know these people too” He says with a smile. You smile wide “Koalas? Finally!” He chuckled “That’s the only thing you heard, hmm?”

“Absolutely. But yeah we can go. What kind of party?” He shrugged “just a party. nothing fancy” “no fancy clothes?” He shakes his head “Thank god. I didn’t pack fancy”

“As if we couldn’t just go and buy something” You roll your eyes at him “Finish up. I wanna see koalas” “Relax, they won’t run away” “You never know”

-

danielriccardo

liked by yn, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1m others

danielriccardo she finally got to hold a koala! and meet someone who looks happier than her 🐨👀

*tagged yn*

yn happier than me? more than you. You’ll get wrinkles from smiling this much

danielriccardo Im only smiling because you’re here

yn charmer much?

danielriccardo always for my favourite girl

yn dont make me blush, riccardo

danielriccardo 😁

user @/landonorris ???

user tagging lando as if he’s stupid

user he can read yk

landonorris are you ever coming home, or what? 😂

yn never. this place is to beautiful

landonorris daniel, i’d like my sister back

danielriccardo can’t do anything, sorry mate

user now why is he so close to her.. 👀

user sure, friends

user woman and men can be friends yall

*liked by yn*

-

yn added to their story

[caption 1: night out 💙 caption 2: I expected more patience from him.. he stood there for 20 minutes..]

franciscagomez girl, you’re telling me you two aren’t a thing??

yn yeah?

sure…

yn why is everyone so weird all of sudden. I’ve visited daniel alone before

that was different..

yn sure.

landonorris be safe please!!

yn will be. i’m with daniel, remember?

yeah that doesn’t calm me down..

yn ttyl 🫶🏻

yeah yeah 🤍

-

Drinks had been flowing for a good amount of time. It was safe to say that neither you nor Daniel were on the sober side. You stood next to him, while he was sitting on a chair, explaining something to the guy next to him.

One of your friends, who was rather clumsy, pushed you over and right into Daniel’s lap. You let out an surprised squeal and hold onto his shoulders for support. In an instinctive way, his arms wrap around you and leans against you in his drunken state.

You smile at the filming person who is laughing along you, while the friend who fell tried to get back up, which was even harder while laughing.

You helped her and watched them go to the bathroom. You now finally look at daniel, who’s lap you were still seated on. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“If you wanted to sit, you could’ve just said something.” You laugh and turn to face the rest of the group “You’re an idiot”

“I’ve been told before” He laughed and you felt his thumb caressing your side. You sigh and let your head fall on his shoulder “Should we go home?” You hum “My feet hurt” “Told you to go in sneaker” “Shut up” He chuckled “I’ll call a cab”

-

You stumbled into the door and steadied yourself on daniel’s arm. You kicked off your shoes “I’m so dead” “Me too. Sleep?” “100%. I’m eating tomorrow.”

He nods and kicks off his shoes as well. You flop down on the couch “that’s not your bed” “I’m to lazy to walk there” He laughed and stumbled over to you. Before he could say anything, you moved and held up the blanket, inviting him.

“Not the plan but sure” He laid down next to you, looking at you. You make him turn and lay on his chest “Definitely comfortable” You mumble before your knocked out cold.

He laughs softly before closing his eyes as well.

-

Lando had been kind of worried about you. He knew how daniel could get when he was drunk. He had stopped the aussie from doing stupid things before while partying. He let his head fall backwards with a groan.

Max looked up from his phone and sighed “Just text her” “So I’ll get the same answer as before? No thanks”

Max rolls his eyes “I’ll be on stream if you’ll need me.” He got up and walked into his streaming room. Lando stayed on the couch. It was already late in australia, he knew that. You should’ve been back already.

His phone lights up and he sees his mothers name.

‘Did you know about this?’ Attached was a picture of you, sitting on daniel’s lap.

He opened the message

Lando sets his phone down. The picture engraved in his mind. This was out of character for you. Or was it? Did he even know who you were? Were you as close as he thought?

His thoughts were interrupted by Max poking his head in the door “Should we order some food? I’m starving” Lando nods “Sure”

“What’s up with you?” Lando shakes his head “Still about Yn and daniel?” “There is a picture from tonight..” Max raised an eyebrow as lando picks up his phone and shows it to max.

Max’s fists clench at his sides and he has to restrain himself from a sarcastic comment “Oh”

“Why would she lie? I mean, she could’ve told me! I’d rather know from her than the internet” “I’m sure she’ll explain.” “I hope.” “Let’s order food and get your mind off a bit.”

-

You had woken up with a raging headache. You tried to sit up, which didn’t work. You look up and see Daniel’s sleeping face. You feel his arms still wrapped around you and pause. Why in gods name are you in this position?

You gently lift his arms and slip out of his arms. You get into the guest bedroom and put your phone down to charge. While your phone was charging, you got some ibuprofen, water and set some down on the couch table in front of sleeping Daniel.

Your phone finally turns on. You’re horrified when you see missed calls from your mom, and texts from various people. You check your moms messages first and freeze again. When did that happen? You on Daniel’s- The fall.

Oh great.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and try calling your brother. It was around midnight in the uk so you weren’t sure he was going to pick up.

“Yn?” “Lando! Oh thank god. Thought you might be sleeping” “no, i’m not. I can’t sleep actually” You hesitate “The picture-“ “I don’t wanna hear it. Why would you lie to me?” “Lando-“

“no. you go and say you’re friends and that’s what I see? Who are you trying to fool here?” “We are just friends!” “sure as hell doesn’t look like it”

“Lando. We were drunk. I was pushed and landed there” “Sure. Well, good to know you’re okay. I’m going to bed.” “Lando please” The line goes dead and you sigh. Great.

You go and call your mother, who was a bit more understanding but still didn’t quite believe the story you told her.

A knock on the door startled you “yeah?” Daniel slowly opened the door “You okay?” You nod “Headache is getting better. Did you take your ibuprofen?” He nods “So..there’s-“ “A picture yeah. Mom and lando already ripped me one.” He sighed and sat down next to you on the bed.

“It is so out of context! This is really annoying.” He nods again and looks at his hands. You stand up “I’m gonna go and eat something. You coming?” “Yeah”

This time, the kitchen was silent. Neither of you knew what to say after last night.

-

“So when is he supposed to be here?” You ask Daniel as you put on your hiking shoes “Any minute. Oscars quite on point when he’s supposed to be there.” In that moment the doorbell rang.

Oscar stood there, smiling softly “Good morning you two! How have you slept?” You roll your eyes “Fine. We really shouldn’t have had that many drinks tho” Oscar chuckled “Yeah I saw. What did Lando say?”

You three make your way downstairs “He wasn’t mad about the sitting in his lap thing at all. He thought I was lying tho when I told him we’re just friends, which isn’t a lie. We’re really not together. Nothing.” You say defeated.

“I’m sure he’ll calm down and you’ll get to talk to him.” You nod “I hope. I really didn’t lie to him” Oscar pats you on the back “It’ll be alright. He’s bark no bite”

Daniel laughs “That’s what i said too! He couldn’t be mad at you forever even if he tried. He loves you way to much” Oscar nods in agreement “He’s always talking about you. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than Lando” You chuckle at that.

“Ill text him once we get back”

-

yn

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielriccardo and 926.467 others

yn when in australia ☀️

*tagged oscarpiastri / danielriccardo*

oscarpiastri my hair oh god

yn I loved it 😂

danielriccardo yeah, i’m sure lily loved it too 😂

oscarpiastri I hate you both

yn 🧡

danielriccardo never going on a hike with you ever again

yn why? I made it to the end

oscarpiastri after laying on the floor and refusing to get up because you know who is ignoring your messages

yn now that is mean

danielriccardo no, just the truth

user Is lando ignoring yn??

user I would too if my sister would have something going on with my friend

user we don’t even know if they do

user have you not seen the pictures??

user and? you need to chill out. not every woman who has a guy as friend wants to date him

*liked by yn*

user see? she even liked the comment.

user the difference between daniel and oscar 😭

user daniel is so boyfriend coded

-

Daniel closed the trunk and made his way to the driver seat. You stare out of the window. Neither of you have actively acknowledged what had happened the night before. The hike with oscar took your mind off it all a bit but you were sure. You had to get to lando before it all gets to his head.

The ride to the airport was quiet. Only as you finally made it and Daniel got your stuff out of the trunk, he finally looked at you.

“Here” “Thank you” “I’ll bring you to your gate” You nod and you both walk in silence. It wasn’t as comfortable as it had been a few days ago.

As you arrived at your gate, you hug him. You stay like that for a few moments before you pulled away.

“yn?” “Daniel” He looks at you a bit nervous “We’re good, right?” You smile softly “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll text you when I land.” He nods “Have a good flight” You wave at him as you leave.

caption: Home sweet home 🇲🇨❤️

franciscagomez weren’t you supposed to be back in like 5 days?

yn lando is ignoring me because of the picture. There’s more to that.

oh..hope you guys figure it out. Gossip sesh w alex soon?

yn 100%

-

Max got a bit mean, oops. Let’s see what she’ll do and what Lando does next 👀

I’ll try posting every 1-2 days. I don’t do tag lists btw

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

PART 12 I LOVE YOU MOM

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she watched her son, Mattia, excitedly explain their latest project to the family. 

“Oh! You look more and more like your mother every day, Mattia,” his grandfather, said warmly, his voice tinged with nostalgia. 

Matheo grinned, clearly loving the compliment. “Thanks, Grandpa.” 

Y/N, sitting at the other end of the table, raised her glass, asking Martin for a refill of wine. He glanced at the letter on the table—a peculiar one with an intricate drawing of what appeared to be a dog and a hastily scribbled "911" in bold letters. 

Before anyone could notice his curiosity, there was a sudden commotion. Matheo, leaned so far forward in his chair that he tipped it over, landing flat on his back with a loud thud. 

The room went silent in shock

“Mattia! Are you okay, baby?” Y/N was by his side in seconds, her face painted with concern. 

Matheo scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off with an awkward smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. I just felt a little dizzy, that’s all. No big deal. Mom, can I go out for a while?” 

Y/N frowned but didn’t push further. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No, no,” Matheo replied quickly, his voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “I’ll just step out for a minute. I’ll be fine, promise!” He grabbed his coat and bolted for the door before anyone could ask another question. 

As the door clicked shut, his grandfather narrowed his eyes. He muttered under his breath, “You’re not fooling me, young man.” 

Matheo rushed through the bustling streets until he found a public phone booth. He slipped inside, closed the door, and fumbled with the phone, his heart racing. He quickly dialed the operator. “Um, could I make a collect call to Madrid, Spain?” 

Meanwhile, in Madrid, Mattia paced the length of his room like a tiger in a cage, glancing anxiously at the phone. When it finally rang, he lunged for it so fast he almost tripped. 

“Hello?” he answered breathlessly. 

“Mattia, what’s going on?” Matheo’s voice came through, laced with worry. 

“God, Matheo, I’m about to collapse,” Mattia blurted out. 

“Okay, chill. Just explain.” 

“Dad,” Mattia said dramatically, pausing for effect. “Dad is getting married.” 

Matheo froze, his jaw dropping. “What?!” 

“I’m serious! The suit and gown, the ceremony, everything. It’s happening in two weeks. If we don’t do something now, it’s game over. The only way to stop him is to reunite him with Mom.” 

Matheo leaned his forehead against the glass of the phone booth, guilt bubbling up. He should’ve listened to Mattia earlier. “Alright. I’ll handle Mom. There’s event tonight, and I’ll drop the news on her tomorrow morning.” 

“Please, Theo. This has to work. And hey... good luck.” 

“Yeah, you too. I’ll call you later.” Matheo hung up, took a deep breath, and opened the door to leave, only to bump straight into someone waiting outside. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see—oh… oh…” he stammered, his heart sinking when he realized who it was. 

His grandfather, stood there with his signature knowing smile. “Uh-huh… oh, oh.” 

“This is not what it looks like,” Matheo blurted out, already feeling the walls closing in. 

His grandfather just looped his arm through his as they began to walk down the park path. “Sweetheart, I may be old, but I notice ‘everything’. Now, spill it. What’s this all about?” 

“It’s... it’s a long story,” he mumbled, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. 

His grandfather patted his arm reassuringly. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got all the time in the world.” 

Matheo sighed, realizing there was no escaping him. “Alright, but promise you won’t freak out.” 

“No promises,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

And with that, Matheo began unraveling the tangled web of plans, secrets, and schemes, knowing full well his grandfather was the last person he could ever truly fool. 

*****

Matheo paced nervously, his shoe scuffing the floor as he debated his next move. From the other side of the door, he could hear his mother speaking in rapid French, her voice calm and composed despite the chaos in his chest. Biting his lip, he leaned against the door, just barely cracking it open to peek inside. His mother sat at her desk, phone pressed to her ear, her words flowing effortlessly like music he didn’t understand. 

Behind him, his grandfather, gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have all day, gentleman,” he said, his tone both firm and loving.

Matheo glanced up at him, hesitant, but he smiled at him, his eyes full of encouragement. “You can do this,” he whispered. 

Taking a deep breath, Matheo pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. His mother, Y/N, was just finishing her call, something about a new design that she had completed and a delicious carbonara pasta she’d been craving. She glanced up, surprised to see her son standing there, and quickly hung up.   

“Mattia, my baby,” she said, setting the phone down.

But before Matheo could say anything, he froze, his courage faltering. Without a word, he dove under the covers beside his mom, pulling the cover over his head. Y/N blinked, her confusion quickly melting into amusement. 

“Mattia?” Y/N called, moving to sit beside the bundle of blankets that was her son. “What are you doing there?” 

From beneath the covers came a muffled response: “I have to go see Mattia!”

Y/N laughed softly, trying to open the cover. "So, where are you supposed to meet ‘Mattia’ ? Tell me, Mattia?"

“Mattia? Sweetheart?” Y/N called his son, she glancing back at her dad, who stood in the doorway with an amused but knowing look. 

“In Madrid. With his father, Carlos Sainz,” Matheo mumbled, his voice trembling slightly. 

At that, Y/N froze. Her face paled, and she shot a look at her Dad, who simply gave a small nod, urging her to listen. Slowly, Y/N pulled the covers back, revealing Matheo’s nervous face. 

“You’re not Mattia, are you?” she asked softly, her voice wavering. 

Matheo shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “No,” he whispered. 

Y/N heart clenched as the truth began to dawn on her. Her hand reached out, brushing a stray soft hair from his forehead as her eyes filled with emotion. 

“You’re Matheo,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “My Matheo.”

Matheo nodded again, this time letting the tears spill over. “Mattia and I met at camp,” he began, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We figured everything out, about you and Dad, and we decided to switch places. I just... I wanted to meet you so badly. And Mattia wanted to meet Dad. I’m so sorry, Mom. Please don’t be mad. I love you so much, and I just... I just hope someday you’ll love me for me, not because you think I’m Mattia.”

Y/N breath hitched, and she pulled her son into her arms, holding him tightly as if afraid he might disappear. “Oh, my baby,” she whispered. “I’ve loved you your whole life. Always. With all my heart.”     

From the doorway, his grandfather dabbed at his eyes with a tissue, muttering something about how dusty the room had gotten. Meanwhile, Martin, their family butler, stood openly sobbing, his dramatic cries echoing down the hall. The grandfather rolled his eyes and gently shut the door to give Y/N and Matheo some privacy. 

Matheo pulled back slightly, looking up at his mother with a hopeful expression. “Does this mean we have to switch back now?” 

Y/N let out a soft, bittersweet laugh, brushing away her own tears. “Technically, you belong to your dad, and Mattia belongs to me,” she said. “It’s... complicated.” 

Matheo frowned, his nose scrunching up. “I don’t like this arrangement,” he said firmly. “It’s horrible.” 

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with affection for her bold little boy. “You’re right,” she admitted. “It is horrible.” 

“Then let’s go to Madrid,” Matheo said decisively, his small hands gripping hers. “We can talk to Dad and figure this out together.” 

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the thought of seeing Carlos again making her heart tighten. But when she looked into Matheo’s eyes, so full of determination and love, she knew there was no other option. 

“That’s what we’ll do,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll take care of everything.”

The two hugged each other again. Matheo sighed, feeling free from all the weight of the lie he had kept, while Y/N only thought “Oh God I have to see Carlos Sainz again. I'll be struck by lightning right now.”

prev chap

[the-universal-sun]

mmmore cg fidds w lee please!! >:3 they r so cut e

Sorry this took so long! I hope you're still here to enjoy this! It's a bit angsty, but I think it's pretty fluffy still! I really hope you enjoy this, and that you're safe and warm! Thank you so very much for the request!!!

There is some implied abuse, so TW: implied abuse, so please skip over the small ("Stanley? Pumpkin, what's wrong?) paragraph if that would bother you, but that's the only time it's implied! I hope it's not too much!!!

Please enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! And as always, I'm open to helpful comments and critiques!

Stay safe!

xx

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

"Stanley Caryn Pines, just what do you think you're doing?" Fidds' voice spooked a squeaky noise from Stan, who had been sneaking up behind him. It was lunch time and Fidds was taking such a long time and we was soooo hungry, he hadn't eaten since breakfast! So Stan decided to sneak in the kitchen behind Fidds to get something to eat from the plates laid out. How did Fidds hear him?! Stan was being as sneaky as he possibly could be.

"Were you plannin' on spooking me now? You know not to do that when I'm standing over the stove." He scolded, turning around from his stirring to stare at Stan with a stern eye.

"Mm-mm." Stan mumbled, bringing his finger up the bite his knuckle nervously. He didn't want to scare Fidds, even though it's funny to sneak up behind him and shout "Boo!", he knows the rules. Not to do it when Fidds has sharp objects or when he's cooking, because then someone could get hurt. Stan gnaws at his knuckle nervously. Did he scare Fidds? He snuck up behind him, but he didn't shout or try to scare him. Is he in trouble now? Stan doesn't want to be in trouble, 'specially if he didn't mean to break any rules.

"Stanley? Pumpkin, what's wrong? You're rocking." Was he? Stan didn't even notice. He's never gotten in real trouble with Fidds before-he's never broken a rule of theirs before. He's good. Stan doesn't like being in trouble, being in trouble means being yelled at or chased out of town. Or some big ouchies.

"Stanley?"

Would Fidds yell at him like Pa'? He's nothing like Pa', but Stan's also never broke a rule 'afore, so maybe he does yell like him. He chews on his finger harder, his breathing going funny and his head spinny from his rocking.

"Stanley!" Hands, gentle hands, stop Stan's rocking. They bring his face up. It's Fidds' hands, and his face is doing something funny. His eyebrows look all scrunched up. His hands take Stan's finger from his mouth with a soft please stop and just looks at him. The look gives Stan a funny feeling in his stummy, a swooping feeling. "Stanley, Honey Bee, what's wrong. You're so worked up, I-was it-was it me?" Fidds' voice was soft and sad sounding. Stan didn't like it. Fidds being sad. It's not right, it makes his chest tight.

"Mmm-mmm." Stan mumbles again, trying to find his words. His tongue felt thick and hard to move, but he has to speak, to explain to Fidds and make him not sad sounding anymore. "Not-not scare. I-um-I was-was hungry." He looked down and pointed to the plate on the counter, the one with crackers on it. "Wanted to-sneak s-some cwra-crackers." Stan's face feels hot; he hates it when his voice goes soft and baby-like. It's embarrassing.

"You were just sneaking some-well, Stanley, why didn't you ask? I don't you having a snack if you're hungry, you know, don't you?" Did Stan know that? Back at-with Pa' and Ma', he had to wait until lunch or dinner to eat, no snacks were allowed, they always said something about ruining his something-or-other. He started rocking again, against Fidds' hands. Was it not like that every where? "Stanley, I'd never want you to go hungry, you can have a snack whenever you like, just ask and I'll get it for you. Alright?" Fidds' voice sounded quivery. Stan didn't like that.

"Um..." He can't think of what to say. He's not really hungry anymore, his tummy is still doing flips. "M' sorry." What is he sorry for again? Stan doesn't know, he's just used to saying sorry all the time.

"No no, it's alright, Stanley, nothing to apologize for, I'm sorry for scaring you myself." No! Fidds didn't do anything wrong! He didn't know Stan wasn't trying to scare him! Stan shook his head, trying to tell Fiddleford he had nothing to be sorry about.

"Well if I don't have anything to apologize for, then you don't either, Mister." Stan scrunched his nose and giggled when Fidds swiped his hair back and just stared at him. Stan stared back, thinking. Thinking about how weird it was to think about Pa' and Fidds in the same way. Fidds is nothing like Pa'; Fidds is his-his Papa. He's so good to Stan, when he's acting like an adult and when his head gets all fuzzy sometimes-like it is now. Fidds cares about him a lot, and Stan cares about him so very much. He never wants Fidds to go. He loves him

Fiddleford chuckled as Stan threw his arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "All's forgiven, alright? Alright." He squeezed Stan back just as tightly and breathed in his scent. He had no idea what just went on in his head, but he'd never complain about a hug. 'Specially not from his Little Captain over here.

Stan and Fidds stand there like that for minutes, just hugging and softly rocking in the kitchen. Stan's content, he's basked in Fidds' presence. And he'd do that all day if his tummy hadn't rumbled. Maybe he was still hungry. He blushed and looked down, his hand rose to his mouth to be gnawed on before Fidds grabbed it and pulled him to the table. He pulled the chair out and pushed it back in when Stan sat and brought over his special (sippy) cup full of lemonade.

"Lunch is almost ready, but here," He set down the plate of crackers in front of Stan, "these can tide you over in the mean time." Stan looked between Fidds and the crackers and few times before he slowly grabbed one off the plate and started nibbling on it. He's still worried he'd get in trouble, but Fidds just ruffled his hair before going back to the stove to finish lunch. Stan sat there and slowly ate his crackers, his tummy not feeling swoopy anymore.

Stan felt warm.

[delulustateofmind]

Okay so like, this is going to be a long one but I’ve been dying to know more and more and I just need to keep asking because the lore is crazy addictive lol. So in “it’s all your fault, isn’t it?” Does reader ends up becoming indifferent? Empty, broken, whatever you want to call it, is it like she’s not really there anymore? You know when sometimes they present mentally sick woman in films as those unresponsive detached ones. I wonder if she’s like that. I imagine her becoming numb as you’ve mentioned, but to the point she doesn’t even talk or do anything besides sitting around and staring into space. Could you get a little into explaining how do you think she behaves in the years after the accident?

Also, how do Satoru and Suguru react? Are they worried about her or more about the fact she’s not really interested in them anymore? Or do they mostly focus on each other and just want her around as a broodmare (I recall someone using this term haha). Did she stop loving them at some point? And are they craving her love? It makes me wonder that if she in fact goes completely indifferent does it make them desperate for her to show some type of affection. Lastly (I’m sorry for such a long ask and so many questions 😭) do you think Satoru and Suguru would fight/blame each other for it? Or once again, do they think she’s the problem.

I have so many questions considering this trilogy it’s honestly my favorite of yours and I want to know every little detail I hope it’s not too much! Thank you for your work🙏🏼

It’s never too much! I’m so glad you like it enough to keep asking <3 If you want to crawl into my noggin and explore all the silly lore files, that’s totally okay. I’ll just place you right next to the thoughts of silly Calico Critters and Smiskis by the one brain cell.

Anyway…

Yeah, she would become really, really numb after that. To the point where they actually have her medicated for depression. It helps a little, but she’s not going back to her regular self, even if they have one or two more kids. Reader becomes way too afraid of getting attached, of even thinking a negative thought (though, honestly, it’s not like a curse would survive long in the Gojo compound). She’s more detached and numb to the world than anything.

Satoru does his best to make her laugh, even taking her and the kids to Disneyland. She just gave him a small smile and a kiss on the cheek. This behavior hits Satoru the hardest because he saw Reader from the very beginning as this happy, cheerful person, and now she’s become so obedient and docile. But he doesn’t say anything. For one, he’s emotionally constipated, and for two, Suguru looks happy.

For Suguru, he’s much more content with this version of Reader. He likes how you’re more attuned to his touches now—how he can just pull you onto his lap, and you snuggle right in. Sure, there’s a difference, but for him, he prefers this. He describes it as you being “more at peace,” even though it’s really just numbness. He’d take that over the nights where you were shouting at him to let you leave, or when you were constantly trying to escape. Now, you’re like a tamed cat in his eyes, and he didn’t even have to resort to unsavory methods to get there.

Sure, they know you don’t love them, but you’re no longer indifferent to their love. You just… accept it. They can pull reactions out of you during sex; they can hold you whenever they please. You’re not as snappy anymore. With the medication, you’re more loopy than anything, and sometimes, you even show an ounce of a smile in that state. Satoru likes to watch you sleep when he gets the chance because, in those moments, he sometimes sees your real smile. You seem more at peace there.

(Sorry, I’m rambling at this point.)

There’s no real blame, at least not between Satoru and Suguru. The kids, though, blame their mother for turning out this way and see her as sick now. They end up with some serious mommy issues. Satoru doesn’t blame Suguru—he knows they’re both equally at fault for this. Ultimately, though, they’re just happy you’re no longer fighting them. They’d rather have you numb and peaceful than fighting them constantly and crying all the time.

Hope that helps! If you have more questions, feel free to send them my way—they’re always welcome <3

[eye-candy-film-enjoyer]

No one told me yesterday was Richard Winters’s birthday, so I wrote this upon suggestion of @audreyroget and to make up for missing the day

Bastogne, 1945

Dick shivered and pulled his knees closer to his chest. His watch ticking the only other sound in the foxhole besides his chattering teeth, a cruel reminder that he was spending his 26th birthday nearly freezing to death. Lord, what he wouldn’t do to be back at home with his mom making some big fuss as he half-heartedly tried to push her efforts away.

He was stirred from his memories by the sound of the tarp above him quickly being pulled away. He looked up to see Nix drop onto the cold dirt next to him, as he dropped something into Dick’s lap. Dick picked it up to see it was a candy bar.

“Happy Birthday,” Nix replied simply with a proud grin, when Dick looked back at him in shock.

“How did you-” Dick started

“Not important.”

“Lew-”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I just traded my smokes for it. A lot of them, to be honest, but nothing but the best for our birthday boy huh?” Nix explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Lew, this is-” The nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, he wanted to say.

“Thank you,” he settled on instead.

“Yeah, well, I do what I can,” Nix smiled and Dick was almost convinced he could make all the ice outside melt away.

Ducking his head, partially to how the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks, Dick unwrapped the candy bar and broke off a piece of it. He handed the piece to Nix, who tried to refuse it.

“Please,” Dick insisted. “It’s my birthday.” He said after a beat, which caused both of them to start laughing from how childish it sounded. But Nix finally took the piece of chocolate.

After the two stopped laughing they sat in a quiet comfortable silence, eating their respective pieces of candy when Nix spoke.

“When we make it out of here, I’ll take you somewhere for a real nice birthday dinner.”

“...Sounds perfect, Lew.”

Pennsylvania, 1968

Dick rolled over in bed, reaching for the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. Pulling himself up, he heard the sound of someone rummaging around in the kitchen. He smiled fondly to himself, knowing it was Lew making him some special birthday breakfast. It had been his ritual ever since the two had come back to the states together. Ever since he’d gone back to Pennsylvania only for Nix to show up on his doorstep 3 months later.

“I can’t do this without you,” was all he said before he pulled Dick into a kiss.

He cooked breakfast, gave Dick a sentimental present, then they’d have dinner later after Dick got back from work, and fall asleep curled against each other.

It might not sound like much but it was everything to Dick. 24 years later and he loved every second of it.

“Morning old man,” Lew greeted Dick as he padded into the kitchen.

“I’m old? Cause I’m fifty?”

“Uh-huh”

“And should we check how old you are?”

Lew feigned a hurt look as he passed Dick a cup of coffee. ‘I’ve never been so hurt in my entire life.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover.”

“Might not.”

“You have to. It’s my birthday.”

Lew laughed loudly, like it wasn’t still completely annoying and no longer cute for a grown army officer to use that retort.

“Stay right here,” Nix laughed, kissing Dick on the cheek, before leaving to go retrieve something from upstairs.

He returned with a small but heavy looking box that he handed to Dick. Dick opened the top to see a shiny watch face on a simple band inside. It was a watch he’d seen in the store and commented on how nice he thought it was.

“I had a little inscription added on the inside,” Lew added.

Dick turned over the watch to see on the back was inscribe

Forever and Always yours

-Lew

“Oh Lew, it’s perfect,” Dick smiled as he pulled Nix towards him to kiss him softly.

“Happy birthday, darling.” Lew murmured when the two pulled away.

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[restinpeacesensei]

suggesting something,,

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

Just a reminder with asks to not send me any if it's for another person. I'll delete it if you do. I'm not your messenger, even if my blog theme (right now) is one.

Thanks.

[triptychofvoids]

i know you say youre not a rp acc and not kin, but i wanted to ask, your art of medic, are you depicting yourself? should i refer to medic in your art as you? example "i love how you drew yourself in this"? idkk i dont wanna poke around but i wanted to be sure im referring to you correctly??

this is a good question, just one that im not sure i will ever be able to give a satisfying answer to. i did answer something similar here that im definitely not an rp account but im neutral on kinning, because the term seems so broad that i cant say for certain if thats whats going on. maybe! or maybe not! hmm and then my art of medic.. yes it is depicting myself. but i also recognize that medic is a fictional character, so it doesnt bother me if people refer to medic as medic! im just drawing him, it doesnt have to be more complicated than that. if that makes sense. its all one in the same to me so it doesnt matter and you dont have to worry about it :]€

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Opinions on Dream? :^

SO many feelings about him omgg rant under cut please forgive me

okay so i don't really talk or draw him much cause honestly,,,most of the times i just think he's a bit....boring? or more accurately plain? not in a mean way either but just in a 'fades into the background' type of way like don't get me wrong!! he's a really nice friend to his peers, his feelings about his powers and aura making his relationships harder to navigate and trust along with his whole conflict with nightmare and morality about what's good and bad IS very cool!! and i love it whenever they write him to be complex and not on this black and white mentality or when he's just straight up following along his friends with no free will or with a dubious purpose without ever addressing his issues or feelings! it's just unsatisfying to me :')

or when they're making him the 'naive' and oblivious, (sometimes childish?) character being marked as the obstacle and villain along with the other star sanses from the fic's pov, always talking about doing good things while fighting his brother and not hearing him out about the balance, (and for weak reasons most of the time. like it's been so long and you STILL haven't sat down with him when he's, generally, basically begged you to just have a talk? guys please :'( ) or when they go for the victim sad dream always missing the old nightmare, where corrupted nightmare is the incarnation of evil, with no sympathy or emotion except anger and sadistic glee, killing and hurting everyone and dream's just trying to protect the multiverse and dream's always been in the right. such extremes!!!

LIKE!! i hope i'm not the only one that thinks a 500+ year old should have had enough time to idk. learn things? about people and manipulation and deceit? after knowing what the villagers did to night? about the bad things in the world and how there's a lot of grey areas in life and that he maybe reflected on his past enough to process and ask himself if there should to be a convo to settle his differences with nightmare (and you can make nightmare the stubborn one too! or have them BOTH be petty and imperfect and have some things wrong and some right at the same time like why do i always see the good guy vs bad guy cliché with these two when they're the perfect example of why positivity doesn't have meaning without the negativity!! as long as there's a satisfying evolution or growth that doesn't leave me empty i'm good yknow?)

plus i believe dream really isn't as dumb as people view him. i do get some of you saying he probably can't read or write since that's actually a pretty interesting idea to explore! but in general please let him have emotions other than pure sunshiny happiness or endless sadness like he's gotta have more depth than that! let him make mistakes, have flaws that don't just make him the bad guy that's always in the wrong by default, and be angry or suspicious or jealous or bitter or battling his mental health problems/depression or malicious or smart or witty or mischievous and silly or sarcastic or ANYTHING dude i just want him to be put into different scenarios where he can be serious or lighthearted like it doesn't even have to be long or perfect but make him feel real.

it could definitely be that i don't read or see much art about dream or really look for it hard enough but also i just. i feel bad for even saying this fr and i wanna be honest about why i don't enjoy most stories about him cause he always gets the worst treatment along with ink!!! especially ink omg the poor guy has it the worst i think like wow do they mess him up :'(

always one dimensional in non shippy fics, or too plain or easily replaceable by other, more entertaining people in the significant other's life in most of his ships like man. i have read fics out there that made me genuinely FEEL and root for him and love his character so much it restored all hope for me!!! but i can only name one on top of my head and the others? it's been so long i don't even remember their names i just legit feel terrible cause i love him still and i can't find many headcanons that fit my interpretation of him yknow?

not to say people who write him very happy, mislead or sad are ruining him like that's silly- if i see something i don't like i just. move on bro i wouldn't force people to feel or think the same way i do about him cause anyone can have whatever headcanons they want!!! just talking about what i personally look for in him and why i can't exactly find it since most of the stuff out there just isn't my cup of tea :')

hopefully i didn't set anyone off with this rambling opinionated essay i just pulled hhh xD i know i know he's a popular character and i know a lot of people like dream so *sobs* please please recommend me artists and fics about him that you think is good it's been so looong since i've read or seen anything new that makes me attached to this little guy aughg<33333

[leftoversludge]

DEVASTATING: teen discovers their problems are shared by millions, yet the horrors persist