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httpiastri · 7 months ago

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PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER THREE (MELBOURNE & IMOLA)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: more heartbreak but that's probs it

author's note: hello again !!! i've been meaning to post this for several days now but never found the strength to proofread it all. decided to fit melbourne and imola both into one chapter because they were kinda short on their own, and they are about a lot of similar stuff so i think it made sense. hope you enjoy, thank you for all love on this <33 monaco chapter is like maybe halfway done so it shouldn't take too long !! (& i like that one more hehe)

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MELBOURNE

"ollie, put on your sunglasses," dino tells his friend, doing the same with his own reflective sunglasses before flipping his cap around. "let's look tough and cool."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the boys in front of you. ollie does as he's told, both of them crossing their arms over their chests as they lean their shoulders against each others. "is that really the pose you're going for?" you ask, and you're instantly met with a string of protests from the impatient swedish man, making you raise your hands in defense. "as you wish..."

you lean back slightly to fit the whole wall behind them into the frame, all works of graffiti apparently important to include, according to your friend. you're glad that you were quick to press the button to take the picture since, of course, they can't keep the pose for more than a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.

you may be complaining a lot about having been dragged around melbourne the entire day, taking photos of your friends, and being forced to socialize. but really, you're thankful for this opportunity to take your mind off everything that's been going on. during your entire break since jeddah, you've been mourning your feature race and dwelling on everything about paul. it's easy to get stuck in your head, to only remember the bad things. and in those times, you're glad to have people around you to pull you out of the darkness.

melbourne will be different. that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got out of the car in jeddah. you got your first f3 win here last season, and despite how it's still a fairly new track to you, you have a lot of confidence driving around it. you have faith in your car, and you know you have the skills to perform well. you just need to actually score some points again to keep up in the championship.

"can you two losers stop laughing already?" you huff, slipping your phone into your pocket. "i'm starving, and i refuse to have dinner in the f2 hospitality before the race weekend has even started."

"blah blah blah, you're just picky," dino says as he strolls up to you, one of his hands coming up to mess up your hair. you shoot him a glare. "whatever, let's get going. i'm really hungry myself, actually."

you rake a hand through your hair to fix the chaos he caused, before hurrying to keep up with the long-legged boys who've already started walking away. as you squeeze in between them, ollie reaches for your hand, fingers slipping between yours. you let out a content sigh; not only because you're finally getting some food, nor because of the way ollie squeezes your hand.

like this, it's like you don't seem to have a single care about anything in the world. like you've just flown across the world to hang out with your best friend and your boyfriend, to just have fun and relax in the sun.

dino and ollie pick up on the change in your mood, too; it's hard not to. though you haven't spent any time with them during the break, with the trio split up between england and italy, your slump has been so palpable that they could tell even from so far away. so seeing you this lighthearted and happy makes them satisfied, too.

the calm before the storm, as they say.

"and you said i was the picky one?" you ask as dino sits down at your table in the hospitality, nothing but some plain pasta and some kind of meat pie on his plate.

"you're not much better now, are you?" he asks back, glancing down at your empty plate and then up at your face again. the little baguette you've already eaten was not nearly enough to fuel you for the upcoming qualifying session.

you sigh. "i miss the fish and chips we had yesterday..."

"that was definitely not a part of our diet plan."

a scoff passes your lips and you shake your head. "maybe it wasn't the best possible food for my performance," you start, looking over your shoulder at the long buffet table. "but at least it was edible. my muscles may not have grown, but my heart sure did. isn't that important, too?"

dino chuckles as he chews down some pasta, shrugging his shoulders. "speaking of your heart," he says before taking a long sip from his water bottle. "i was surprised to see how lovey-dovey you and ollie were yesterday."

you raise an eyebrow at him. "aren't we always like that?"

"yeah you are, that's the thing."

you pause for a long moment. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

a sliver of regret makes its way onto his face, so slight you almost don't pick up on it. "well..." he tries his best to play it cool, even pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications, but you see right through him. "i may have heard something, but it doesn't mat-"

you can't stop yourself from cutting him off. "tell me. now."

now it's dino's time to let out a sigh, pulling a hand through his hair. "i heard that you and ollie were having problems. but clearly, that's not the case."

"and who told you that?"

"well, here's the thing, i-" dino's voice cracks just like it always does when he's nervous or when he's lying. he takes a second to clear his throat, and you intervene.

"it was paul, wasn't it?" you ask, and he doesn't answer. the fact that he doesn't immediately deny it, along with his blank expression, gives it away. "that idiot! oh my god..." dino is just about to speak up again, to explain himself or make up an excuse, but you give him no space. "why are you listening to him and not me? why would you not ask me if it's true before assuming something? is he really more reliable when it comes to my relationship?"

"y/n, you know i'm stuck between you three. you're all my best friends, and..." he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. "how should i know who to trust and who to talk to? i can't even mention him around you."

when his words kick in, your expression softens from the infuriated frown you were earlier displaying. you understand what he means; it must be hard for him to be in the middle of this ongoing cold war. "i get it, i get it," you finally say with a dismissive hand gesture. "just... tell me the details. tell me exactly what he said."

to be fair, the things paul had said to dino weren't as bad as you had expected. it had just been a tiny comment, something along the lines of how paul wasn't sure if you and ollie were still as comfortable around each other since you weren't spotted with him in the paddock in bahrain.

a full-on lie, but not the worst thing to ever happen.

though, what dino then tells you about, is the fact that paul wasn't the only one he heard about it from. kimi had confided in him, too; just like gabriel and dennis.

kimi's story had been pretty much the same as what paul told dino, but dennis said that he had heard that you and ollie had broken up already. and according to gabriel, paul has been telling people that you and ollie are only dating for publicity.

what a joke.

the weight of the rumors sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them break you. and despite how much you loathe the thought of even looking at him, your body is bubbling with the need to confront him. this can't go on.

how are you supposed to not think about paul and ollie all day, every day after that?

when you know your ex-boyfriend has been spreading fake rumors about you, how are you supposed to look at his stupid smile when he's walking through the paddock and not punch him in the face?

you manage to restrain yourself, with some help from pepe subtly grabbing your arm to hold you back whenever he notices that paul is near. the negative thing is that it means you don't get an outlet for your emotions.

you have yet to find any positives to it.

you were always told to not mix your driving with romance. now, you understand why. you're so distracted that pretty much everything gets messed up your entire weekend. you aren't able to prepare well for your sessions, so you end up with a weak 15:th position in the qualifying, along with one dnf in the sprint, in what's probably one of the fastest cars on the grid this weekend.

not even the feature works out for you. after a lucky start with five positions gained, you were finally fighting for points again. though, stalling in the pit is apparently not the most optimal thing to do when looking to climb the ranks, which was something you learned the hard way.

the worst of it all is the fact that of course paul ended up with yet another podium. where's the karma in that?

just when you've gotten out of your car and made your way back to the paddock, you spot him. he's on his way to the podium from the cooldown room, climbing a staircase and loudly chatting with zane maloney about the race.

this time, you can't hold back. he ruined your race; he deserves your anger.

"you're a complete idiot, you know that, right?"

your voice startles zane, who looks at you with a guilty expression for a moment until he takes in paul's reaction, realizing that he's not the one you're mat at. "yeah?" the estonian chuckles.

"yeah, you are!" the volume and intensity of your voice rise by the second as you make your way to the foot of the staircase. "where did you find the audacity to run around spreading false rumors about me and my boyfriend?!"

zane slowly steps away, not wanting to get caught in this crossfire, and ascends the steps towards the podium. paul's amused expression doesn't change at all. "what false rumors?"

you gawk at him, completely dumbfounded by his entire way of acting. "that we're having issues."

"well, you are."

"we are not!"

"come on," he starts shaking his head as you take a quick couple of steps up the staircase. "it's easy to see that you're not happy with him."

it doesn't take long for you to reach the landing he's standing on, and for the first time ever, you find yourself hating how tall he is. the way he looks down at you only furthers your aggravation – it's like you're smaller, like you matter less, like you aren't as strong. "and how would you know that i'm not happy?"

he sighs, as if he's completely uninterested in this entire conversation. like your anger doesn't affect him the slightest. "because i know you." he shrugs. "you don't smile like you used to. ollie isn't right for you."

"oh, but you were?!" you scoff, not believing your ears. "you're so conceited, holy shit! you just ruined my weekend, you ruined both of my races, just- leave me and ollie alone!"

when you turn around to descend the stairs again, you notice the crowd that's started to form below you. great. you haven't exactly been subtle, and you wouldn't be surprised if your yells could be heard all the way back to the campos garage. the sight should scare you – any other day, you would've been so embarrassed you'd want to melt through the floor. but right now, you're too full on anger to care.

"maybe you would be driving better if you were still with me."

paul's voice stops you just as you're about to walk down the first step. you slowly turn back to him, mouth gaping wide and eyes blown up.

"something about being with him is clearly bothering you. you weren't like this when you were with me." you're at a loss for words, which he notices and takes advantage of. "you're prioritizing him over your own racing. you did it in bahrain, you did it again in jeddah. it's not good for you."

"maybe what's not good for me is you, have you ever thought about that?" you walk up to him, a finger pressed up to his chest as you stare up at him. "maybe the reason i'm distracted because you won't leave me alone! you keep on spreading these stupid rumors about me and-" you have to pause for a moment to force down the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. "i can't take it! just back the fuck off!"

you feel like you could explode any second – if that isn't what you just did – and the fact that paul still looks like he doesn't give one single fuck about this makes you want to give him that beating he so deserves. but you hear pepe's voice in the back of your head, reminding you of how the fia wouldn't appreciate having a driver on the grid who gets into fistfights, and so you back off. with one last shake of your head, you turn again, storming down the stairs.

the sea of people at the end of the staircase splits open for you and you hurry away, not taking any time to see if you notice anyone you know in the crowd. you hear a familiar voice call out for you, one you can't quite identify, but you continue running towards your truck.

paul is an idiot – there's no denying in that fact.

but why was there more passion in these two minutes of fighting him than you've had in your entire relationship with ollie?

he can't be right, you decide. you really are in love with ollie, but not in a way that makes you compromise your racing. it's a great relationship, no matter how different it is from the one you had with paul. he may not believe it, but you will make it work.

he can't be right. you won't let him.

ollie heard about the fight between you and paul just minutes later. of course, there are people around the paddock who loves to run around and gossip – and how could they not tell the story of this huge fight to the man who was the topic of it?

in hindsight, he should've come to you instantly. he thought that the wise thing would be to give you space, to give you a few moments to breathe before he came in with all kinds of questions.

but then, when you finally come out of the campos truck over an hour later and make your way over to where he is waiting for you, he can't say anything. he sees the redness of your eyes and hears your heavy sighs loud and clear, and he knows you won't want to talk. he's too late; the wound may still be far from healed, but he still doesn't want to rip off the bandaid you've so carefully applied on yourself.

all he can do is wrap his arms around you, let you rest against his chest and kiss the top of your head, hoping to bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

next time, he will be quicker. he will be there for you right when you need it.

ollie sleeps soundlessly next to you when you pull out your journal from the bedside table. he hasn't had the most flawless weekend either, but at least he scored his first points of the season, which is a great start.

you usually can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about paul. any other day, you're jane austen and nicholas sparks both in one body. but today, there's only one thing that comes out of you.

paul aron is an asshole.

after a few seconds of just staring at your blank journal, another sentence comes to you; one you just can't bring yourself to write down.

but what if he's right?

maybe what you have with ollie isn't true love.

but maybe it's enough.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername not the best weekend race-wise, but alright off the track. we will come back stronger, thank you to the team for all of the hard work :)

show all 54 comments

user keep pushing y/n!! don't let this weekend affect you ❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user .....what is pepe doing in the last slide?

→ yourusername wish i knew 🤷‍♀️ he sure looked silly doing it, that's all i know

→ user ollie and dino then?

→ yourusername 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user pretty embarrassing weekend tbh

→ user send your hate somewhere else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user did anyone else hear those rumors... about her and paul....

→ user omg what rumors

→ user check your dms 😘

IMOLA

melbourne was not a good weekend in any possible way, and having it be the last weekend before a long break? not exactly what you had hoped for.

in times like these, you do the one thing you're better at than anyone; distracting yourself.

hours upon hours in the red bull simulator, mornings and evenings at the gym, rewatching old f1 and f2 races all night. anything to get your mind off your love life. pepe is a lifesaver too, since he's good at picking up on the little hints about your current mood and he understands which of your buttons not to push when you're like this.

though ollie understands why you're behaving the way you are after melbourne, he still doesn't enjoy the fact that you're much less open and harder to get hold of. there's a long period of time where you don't answer his texts as often as you usually do, where you cut your face time calls short for random reasons, and where he just can't get through to you. and it hurts him so much more since he's several hours away in italy, not able to properly talk to you about it.

that's why he was overjoyed when you arrived in imola a few days earlier than you needed, just so the two of you could spend some time alone before the weekend started.

it's currently wednesday night, and you just need to swing by your hotel room before heading out for dinner. "i'm to be really quick," you say as the light on the door blinks green and you enter, shuffling over to your suitcase. "i just need to find my purse..."

ollie strolls around for a few moments, almost as if inspecting the room, before just standing to watch the sun set over the city through your balcony door. eventually, you hear his voice from behind you. "what's this?"

when you turn around, you find him staring down into your open duffle bag on the floor – and on top of all your clothes lies your journal.

shit.

"it's... nothing."

he chuckles. "it's clearly not nothing. it looks like it's been used quite a lot," he says, eyes moving over to you. "is it a novel? a calendar?"

you turn back to your suitcase, pretending like it's no big deal, that you're just much more interested in finding your purse. "well, something like that."

"something like what?" ollie frowns, bending down a little to take a closer look at the outside.

"found it!" you reach for your handbag, pulling it out and holding it up in the air as you step away from the suitcase. "we can go now."

"why aren't you telling me? is it secret?"

ollie is stubborn; it's one of the things you like about him, one of the things that makes him the person he is. without his determination, he would've never made it to f2 nor the ferrari driver academy – and he wouldn't be your boyfriend. so, you aren't surprised that he's not letting go of your journal.

he can clearly tell it's a big deal for you, despite the fact that you try to hide it, and he can't help but feel a bit of worry creep into him when you don't answer him instantly. he regrets pushing you for an answer, but he's also immensely curious – and he's a bit tired of you still keeping secrets from him, despite the fact that he would never tell you that.

after a few more moments of silence, he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. and with the way he's looking at you, there's no way you can hold back from telling him.

you tell him about when you first bought it, that rainy day back home in cambridge and that little bookshop near your elementary school. you tell him about how it just called for you, begged for you to buy it, how the dark blue color felt like it was chosen just to attract attention from your eyes and your eyes only.

and you tell him about your therapist and the amount of time you've spent trying to work out all of your issues. you tell him about how when she suggested that you find an outlet for your emotions that's more easily accessible during race weekends, your mind instantly wandered to the little journal you'd bought but found no use for yet.

but you make sure to leave out all of the details, only filling him in on the major issues. you don't tell him about just how bad your performance anxiety gets, or about how close you've been to just quitting racing when your imposter syndrome thoughts cloud your mind. you can't let him know too much, get too close.

you try to brush it off as something casual, like it's no big deal; but you also make sure to tell him how extremely secret it is and about the many ways you would kill him by if you found out he'd read in it. your tone is one of levity, of course – but in reality, you weren't really kidding.

paul knew about the journal, too, and you knew how much he longed to know more than the color of the wrapping. you'd often find him with pleading eyes as he watched you write, tiny pout on his lips and a joking comment along the lines of "you're not cursing me out in that, are you?".

but despite how curious he was, paul never overstepped his boundaries. he would never – and you trust that ollie won't, either. he's far too good for that, too kindhearted and empathetic to go against your wishes. especially with how fragile and vulnerable you look to him in this moment.

he makes sure to listen to every word that leaves your mouth, nodding understandingly and letting you finish pouring your heart out before he speaks up.

"you know, you could also use me if you want to,” he starts, a gentle hand coming up to caress your cheek. "to talk to, i mean. or rant, or anything. if you think being vocal about it instead of writing could work."

of course he would try to find a way to help you out. to him, it's a win-win situation – if venting to him works for you, then that's great, but it would also mean that he could maybe finally work himself past that wall you've built up around yourself. if you start telling him about your feelings for your own sake, maybe he can finally get to know you better and get closer to you.

but that's the thing. opening up means being vulnerable, letting your guard down. you do trust him, you really do; so why can't you just do it?

ollie smiles at the little nod you give him – it's not a promise, but it's a good start. you've started talking to him, and he thinks that maybe the momentum will keep you going.

you realize that he's still holding your hand when he gives it a soft squeeze, standing up from the bed. "enough of that now," he says, trying to ignore the slightly somber expression taking over your features. "let's go to that restaurant, hm?"

you intertwine your fingers with his and rise next to him, slinging your purse over your shoulder with another nod. "let's go."

seven missed calls.

that's the sight you're met by when you scan over your phone notifications after your post-qualifying debrief with the team. you don't even need to check who they're from; you knew your dad would be dissatisfied with your results from the second you stepped out of your car halfway through the session.

before today, you hadn't spun out in a qualifying session since your karting days – but apparently, there's a first time for everything. another qualifying outside of the top ten means that yet again, you will be starting in the lower ranks in both races. missing out on the reverse grid always sucks, but it sucks a little extra when you know you could've, and should've, performed better. with pepe's third-place finish, you know your campos car was good enough to end up in the top of the timings. if only you'd kept the car on the track, maybe you could've proved something.

proven that you're capable, proven that you belong here. proven that you actually can handle the pressure.

if you know your dad right, he's definitely not calling to give you his condolences or cheer you up. it's not exactly his style. chances are, he's not just going to criticize your performance, but also compare it to a certain someone else's.

ollie managed to snatch that second place for the starting grid on sunday, which is something you should only be happy about. but as much as you adore your boyfriend and wish him all of the joy in the world, it's upsetting that he needed to perform so well this weekend. it's like the fuel to your dad's "you should've gone to ferrari"-fire he wanted so badly.

pepe knows that look on your face by now; he's been a first-hand witness to your fights with your father too many times to count by now. his hand on your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze after he's watched you flip your phone upside down on the table with a sigh before slumping further into your seat.

"did someone die in here or what?" sebastian's voice spreads through the room when he walks into it and catches a glimpse of you. the air is so thick with tension that he fears he will choke on it if he doesn't try to lighten the mood a bit.

"nothing except my weekend, i guess," you mumble back, not giving into his attempt that easily. what's he so happy for, anyway? his result of qualifying 25th isn't exactly something to celebrate, either.

"hey, cheer up," sebastian says. "we'll have an overtaking party this weekend!"

when you stay quiet, pepe says something quick in spanish to sebastian who just nods, eyes flickering between you two. you let out a groan – it's ironic, really, since you're a driver for a spanish team, but you hate it when people speak spanish around you since you can't understand it. especially when you know they're talking about you but not with you.

pepe apologizes instantly, but the smile on his lips never falters. not even your behavior is enough to stop him from beaming over his own qualifying results. for the first time in a while, he is actually happy after a session – and he won't let you ruin it.

"okay, come on. i have the perfect plan to save this night," pepe starts. your phone buzzes on the table with what you assume is another angry message, and you're just about to open it when he interjects. "and that starts with giving me your phone."

"that seems pretty suspicious…" you say, though you understand immediately why he does it. pepe knows you far too well already.

you reluctantly place your phone into the hand he holds out for you. "i promise to let you know if ollie or anyone on the team texts you. but i think you need to stay away from this for a while." he nods toward sebastian, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "could you run out to get some kind of candy? anything that could work as poker chips is good enough."

"and i suppose that means my deck of cards is needed, too?" you ask, not able to hold back from smiling anymore at your friend's silly attempt to cheer you up.

"you bet."

call it childish, but your poker session really did serve its purpose. it ended up being the first time you've been able to properly relax and just have fun in months. it didn’t matter that none of you three got a lot of sleep – just getting to enjoy the moment was good enough.

however, the next day, it was all back to square one again.

the sprint race was indeed an overtaking party, as sebastian had suggested – but six overtakes from p20 is still not enough for any points, not even when about five drivers crash in the first lap. despite all that, you still had some hope for the feature; even more laps to work your way up the ranks and the possibility of having a good strategy were the only two thoughts on your mind.

but yet again, you left the race having scored exactly no points. and to your biggest annoyance, the winner was the one person you prayed would not get the win. one pretty much no one had expected.

just like spa last year in f3, paul was insanely lucky with his choice of strategy. with a perfectly timed late pit stop when the safety car came out, he came out in the front of the field on his new option tires. pretty much the entire field behind him had opted for the opposite strategy, which meant he soared away at the safety car restart and took the win quite easily.

at least, now the championship can't possibly get any worse, can it?

celebrations are always due when paul wins, and this weekend is no exception. you honestly wanted nothing more than to stay back in your hotel room and forget about the weekend even happening. but after some combined begging from ollie, pepe and jak, all saying something about how "you're no fun anymore" and "it's been so long since you partied with us", you finally gave in.

"and i promise, you won't be left alone for even a second," ollie whispers into your ear as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the door to the club of the night. "i'll be right here, and all of your other friends. okay?"

your answer comes in the form of a hum and a quick nod as the loud music floods all of your senses the second you step into the club. your boyfriend gives you a squeeze, just about to speak up again, when he spots pepe waving at you both from a table a few meters ahead.

"you actually made it!" he exclaims when you join him, reaching over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to his side again. "and you look great. i was scared you'd show up wearing your race suit or pyjamas just as a form of protest."

"trust me, i wanted to," you tell him with a shrug. "but someone stopped me. said it wasn’t appropriate."

"what, i was just supposed to let you make a fool of yourself?" ollie scoffs from next to you. "isn't that why i'm your boyfriend? making sure you don't embarrass yourself in public?"

"of course, what else?" you say back without missing a beat, giving him a pat on the top of his head. you then turn to greet dennis, zak and gabriel, who are also standing by the table. the discussion around the table easily falls into a race debrief, before morphing into a debate about the f1 race of the night. but it doesn't take long until the group is split up, with pepe and gabriel deciding to go for a round of dancing on the dance floor, and dennis and zak both running off toward the bathrooms.

you have to confirm to ollie about five times that you indeed will be alright standing alone for a few moments as he walks the twenty meters away to the bar to get you both a drink before he actually goes away. the way he's treating you feels somewhat strange; like you're some kind of fragile glass sculpture, like even the slightest hint of turbulence will make you break.

but then again, maybe you've earned it. your recent months definitely haven't been making you any stronger, that's for sure.

you don't really mind it at first; the slight tipsiness you already feel from the shots dennis had ordered for the table and the throbbing bass from the random house song playing on the dance floor doing a good job at drowning out your thoughts. except, that's only until something out on the dance floor catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

paul has been gone all evening, busy celebrating his win probably, and your heart flutters momentarily at the sight of him out there. but when you turn your head towards him to take him in fully, your heart drops instead.

he's with someone. and not just anyone – a girl.

a girl who's got her arms draped around his neck, while his hands hold her hips close to him.

the smiles on their lips can be spotted from miles away, and you can hear the sweet sound of paul's laughter ringing in your ears when you see her lean in to whisper something in his ear.

who is she? what's she doing with her arms around him? why is she-

your thoughts all go silent when paul places a hand underneath her jaw, leans down, and gently presses his lips to hers. it's like the entire world goes silent; like everything else is just a blur of blinking lights, but the spotlight is on the couple on the dance floor. your eyes can't help but follow their lips, their hands caressing each other's bodies...

goosebumps spread across your skin in an instant and an eerie feeling passes through your body. you finally manage to pull your gaze off paul and the girl – who is she, anyway? – and you turn away, making a beeline to the restroom. thankfully, a woman exits through the door just as you arrive, and you're quick to lock yourself in.

once you're inside and pressing your back up against the wall, it's like everything that's been building up in you is let loose. the walls are broken down, and every thought and emotion you have comes crashing down onto you. rivers of tears are flowing down your cheeks before you can react, and you slide down the wall, knees coming up to your chest as your hands come up to cover your face.

there's this strong, heartbreaking feeling spreading through your chest. is it jealousy? is it disappointment? regret?

what you do know is that this aching feeling in your heart is stronger than ever.

is this how paul feels when he sees me with ollie?

it can't be, you think – it just can't. paul can't be in this much pain...

does this mean that you still love him? does this mean you still aren't over him?

you know you should be over him already. you've tried so hard, put so much energy into your relationship with ollie. and yet, you still feel like this.

it's not fair. not to you, and especially not to ollie. he cares about you, respects you, supports you – hell, he's probably out there right now looking for you and wanting to make sure you're okay. he really likes you, and he thinks you like him too. but here you are, crying about another man.

when you're all out of tears, you use your last piece of strength to push yourself up from the floor, standing up and leaning over the sink. wearing non-waterproof is both a blessing and a curse; the trails down your cheeks are straight out of a nightmare, but they're also easy to wash off with a little water and some paper towels. the redness in your eyes isn't as easy to erase, unfortunately, but it'll have to do. you hope to be able to blame it on being tired, or having too much to drink.

you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom and making your way towards the crowd on the dance floor again. the music is just as loud as it was before, and the crowd is just as sweaty and chaotic as a packed summer festival. thankfully, you don't see paul anywhere, but you find ollie quite easily. he's standing by a high table with gabriel and dennis when you approach, eyes lighting up when he spots you.

"there you are!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "i've been looking for you–" ollie cuts himself off, his eyebrows furrowing a little. his voice lowers a few notches. "what's wrong?"

he noticed. in hindsight, how could he not? he's always been extremely attentive. "it's nothing, i..." you start, looking down at your feet. "i'm just exhausted from the day."

but he isn't stupid. he knows, he understands. even if he doesn't know who or what caused it, it's easy for him to tell that you've been crying. he nods, arm dropping from your shoulders to hold you around your back. "okay," he says, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze. "let's leave."

you look up at him again. the last thing you want is for him to have to cut his night short just for you. "no, i can go alone-"

"i don't mind. we came together, so we're leaving together." and before you can interject again, he's already said his goodbyes to the boys and pulled you along through the crowd.

the cab ride back to the hotel is mostly silent. you play the "exhausted" card, while ollie plays the "naive boyfriend" card. but just because you're both quiet doesn't mean your heads aren't absolutely buzzing. your mind is racing with the memory of paul's lips on that girl, kissing her and holding her like he used to kiss and hold you. but your thoughts are also clouded by the guilt you feel for being this much of a mess, and making yourself so unavailable to ollie.

ollie, on the other hand, isn't exactly rolling his thumbs, either. it takes his everything not to push you into telling him what's wrong; he wishes you would tell him because you want to, not because he's pressuring you. he's so worried about you, but at the same time, he hates the fact that you won't confide in him.

what's he doing wrong? why don't you trust him?

ollie is fast asleep next to you in your hotel bed when you pull out your dark blue journal from the bedside table.

the journal is not a secret from him anymore per se, but you still waited until this moment. the guilt of writing about another man when ollie is the one in bed with you is too big to face with his brown eyes looking up at you, so you'd rather do it like this.

yet another round of the championship, yet another bad weekend. no points, bad results as always �� and that's not even the worst part.

paul was with another girl. someone i've never seen before. but he was acting like they were attached by the hip. like they've known each other forever. like i wasn't even there.

he must've known i would see. and yet, he had no issues kissing her like his life depended on it.

is it only this painful to see paul because we haven't spoken in weeks?

or is it going to be like this forever?

and just like in melbourne, there's one more thought that springs to your mind that you just can't find in yourself to write down.

i wish it were me.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a weekend to forget, focusing on monaco instead. thanks for your support. ❤️ #foreversenna

show all 47 comments

user you did the best you could 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user honestly what is she doing?

→ user bad results over and over even though the car is on fire, what even

→ user awkward

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user are she and ollie even a couple anymore?

→ user just because she doesn't post him, they've broken up? 🤨

→ user no no it's just because i've heard things... 😶

→ user omg pls tell me

→ user she'll delete the comment probably 🤪 but lemme dm you

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b4ts1e · 1 year ago

Text

▀▄▀▄▀▄Their Warm Embrace▄▀▄▀▄▀ (𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝙼𝙲)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍: 𝚀𝚒𝚞/𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗 𝙻𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙱𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗 𝙾𝚙𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝙲 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 (𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙾𝙻:𝙽&𝙵)

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝:

Step 2, as the request says- so the main trio are all 14! I'm also going to take the insecurity part a bit further- so warning for that.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

The sun was beaming down on the town of Golden Grove, most would see this as good- but for one girl in particular, it felt like irony. She was best friends with some of the prettiest people in Golden Grove, at least in her opinion- and yet as the sun shone brightly on the small town she felt...out of place. MC Second, that's the girl silently suffering from her own thoughts on herself- hiding behind a carefully crafted smile that's been almost perfected through her most recent years of life. Middle school was rough, it's when everyone started to develop physically and everything started to change from a happy, colorful, childhood day dream to a dusty gray, worrisome, life hazard. But like I said before- she had almost perfected that sunny sweet smile. Almost. Most people wouldn't be able to see past the blinding light of that smile, those who knew MC best- people such as Tamarack, Qiu, and her mother could see something was wrong. The three were worried for her, after all- even when asked she'd avoid the question and give them that sickeningly sweet smile, her own mask.

It had been around a week since MC had taken time to hang out with her friends outside of walking to and from school back to their homes in the cul-de-sac, or lunch periods- which they've even noticed she had been eating far less then usual, it only made them worry more. Autumn was the first to bring it up without MC around to her mom, seeing if she knew what was making their friend act so differently. Sadly, it was a dead end from her as well- Opal's work had been more demanding lately, resulting in her coming home late into the night.

When he had discussed it briefly with Tamarack, hoping he'd get something from her- but she also knew nothing due to being busy with strings practice. Soon they knew they'd have to take the initive and confront MC personally, and that's where we stand now. Autumn standing right outside his best friend's, and crush's, door- waiting for an answer after knocking.

(𝚀𝚒𝚞'𝚜 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎)

When I received no answer, my worry grew ten-fold. MC wasn't the type to not answer the door, hell they used to rush excitedly to open it- the memory made my cheeks warm slightly but I shook it off quickly. Now was not the time. "Luckily I know where the spare key is kept." I muttered to myself, quickly grabbing it- unlocking and opening the door as quietly as possible. I carefully closed the door behind me, being as quiet as possible as I slowly searched the house for MC. Once the first floor was cleared I headed for the stairs, before hearing a loud thump of something hitting the wall before clattering to the floor. I quickly rushed up to her room, hearing soft crying on the otherside of the door- cautiously I entered the room. The sight broke my heart. Seeing MC balled up in the smallest corner of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and crying into herself- her room was a mess, old photos from before she moved torn to shreds and her phone on the ground. The screen was shattered, it must have been what hit the wall.

"MC? Hey- sorry for barging in, but... what's wrong?" I ask softly, taking off my blue plaid jacket- putting it on the floor as I slowly approached the bed, her gaze snapping up to meet mine. Her eyes were wide, red and puffy- she had been crying for awhile that much was obvious. "Q-Qiu! Oh- uh-" she said, wiping harshly at her eyes- trying to hide the evidence despite being caught. "I'm fine! Just...saw a sad ad for an animal shelter! Yeah..." she lied through her teeth, avoiding eye contact as I sat on the edge of her bed carefully.

"We both know that's not true. MC...what's really wrong? You've been acting strangly for awhile, but this last week- you've been so closed off from both me and Tamarack. Did we do something wrong, or did someone say something to you?" I asked, ready to track down whoever would dare to hurt my MC- er my best friend. Yeah. Best friend. Her eyes widened drastically before she jumped forward towards me a bit, quickly shutting down one thing I had said. "No! No. You and Tama did nothing wrong I swear- I just...." she cut herself off with a sigh, visibly deflating.

Carefully I reached out, gently grabbing her forearm- rubbing small circles into the skin. She offered me a small smile in return- forced but genuine. "Lately I've been feeling...insecure? I think that's the word for it- but it's not just insecure y'know? Everything seems to be so dull now, I just- I feel so out of place. I mean- it's like I'm on auto pilot, my mind is so foggy..." she explained, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes again. "Foggy?" I asked softly, slowly pulling her closer to me to wrap her in a small hug.

She nodded and leaned into my chest gently- she appeared fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest gust of wind from the wrong direction. "Like I'm viewing myself from outside of my body...I don't know it's hard to explain." she said softly as I gently fiddled with her hair, hoping it'd help her calm down a bit. "I get it, thank you for telling me- but why'd you hide this from me, Leafy, and your mom?" I asked carefully, noticing she stiffened slightly.

"I didn't want to be a burden..." she said softly- had we not been this close, which totally wasn't making my heart pound, I wouldn't of heard her at all. I wasn't going to have that- nobody, not even her, could speak that way about my best friend. "Now you listen here and you listen good, okay? You will never be a burden to any of us MC. You're important to all of us. You're the sturdy bridge that holds me and Tamarack together, and you hold me together as well. Always keeping an eye out for others yet never keeping one out for yourself. You are one of the kindest, beautiful, and self-less people I know MC." I said quickly without thinking, making eye contact with her to ensure she was listening- making sure she knew I meant it to the ends of the earth.

Her cheeks seemed to brighten in a pink hue, eyes fluttering as she stammered for words. I give her a soft smile, pulling her into a proper hug. "You mean the world to me MC. Never let yourself forget that, but if you do? I'll just keep reminding you, over and over again." I whispered softly, holding her tightly to my chest so she couldn't see how red my face or ears had gotten. Though I doubt she didn't hear my heart racing.

She started to shake and shiver before the damn in her eyes finally burst, crying into my sweater- sobs coming from her as she finally let it all out. Softly I smiled, glad to see she was letting it out now- no longer hiding behind that sticky sweet smile she wore so well as I gently traced shapes into the back of her shirt.

"And about those insecurities of yours? I'm going to show you that those kinds of thoughts are so incorrect that they defy all known logic." I say softly, but trying to make her laugh even just a bit- I was successful as she giggled lightly through her choked sobs.

"Oh yeah? How exactly are you gonna do that Autumn?" she asked, looking up from my chest with a smug smile- cheeks still damp from tears. "Well- what are you insecure about?" I ask returning the smug smile full force as my heart fluttered at the use of my nickname. She took a moment before looking down at herself, puffing her lips out a bit with a pout. "My looks mainly...I mean- you and Tama are so pretty and then there's just me. Average MC." she degraded herself- pinching and pulling at her skin. I grab her hand to stop her from contiuing to do so.

"Average?" I started with a chuckle, deciding to focus on being called pretty by my crush later. "MC you are far better than average! You may not see it but I do. Your eyes are so gentle yet whenever you are standing up for Tamarack or settling an arguement- the look of determination gives them this shine I swear the stars wish they could replicate it. And don't get me started on your hair! It's always so pretty! Even when it's a mess because of the humidity of spring or tangled because you just woke up- even then it's so soft and compliments your complextion as well as your stunning eyes!" I rambled, letting out every single detail I've noticed about them- it was natural.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

Qiu continued to go down the list- naming the smallest things about MC and explaining why every part of them was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. They didn't even notice how long they'd been rambling until they heard a small embarassed whimper come from the very female he was praising for earnestly. That's when he saw just how red her face was and their's quickly began to glow an even brighter red. Both incredibly flustered for what Qiu had so shamelessly spewed on about- as if MC was a hyperfixation he just couldn't look away from.

From outside the door, Opal stood and watched the two fumble about- embarassed. She smiled softly, glad that her daughter was feeling better with Autumn's help- and proud of the selection of friends MC had made four years ago when they first moved here. Quietly she retreated to the kitchen, deciding to make something sweet both teens would enjoy to snack on after such an emotionally taxing day.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,678

#qiu lin #our life now and forever #tamarack baumann #olnf #olnf mc #qiu lin x reader #soft angst #comfort #ABatsie-Writes

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gaytamorfosi · 1 year ago

Text

The sofa on which everything changed

🇬🇧 ("Il divano su cui è cambiato tutto" Versione Inglese)

The new sofa was stiff, the fabric was as tight as a violin string, it was like sitting on a wooden bench. Riccardo didn't feel like a person sitting on a sofa, he thought he looked more like a toy placed there, where some careless child had placed it and forgotten it.

A mug full of tea, feet on the table, some music...

Riccardo listened to the radio wrapped in his very white, soft and scented fleece sweatshirt. He had tried to make himself comfortable on that new sofa, he was trying to feel at home in the rented apartment starting from the simplest things he could think of. However, the way in which he had arrived on that sofa was anything but simple, Riccardo's life had been completely revolutionized in just a few weeks.

Riccardo's father, a gruff and very religious man, had insisted that his son start working in the family's small hardware store in Saronno. Riccardo on the other hand wanted to go to university, he didn't even know what he wanted to study but he was certain that he didn't want to spend his life surrounded by allen keys, siphons and bolts. "I know what's best for you" the father kept repeating in a dry and authoritative tone. Riccardo had tried everything to convince him, but with the big hard head that his father had, the man remained adamant on his decision.

One evening Riccardo decided to play the last card he had available and after having made his parents sit on the sofa, he took courage and announced: "Dad, Mom, I like boys". The father responded with laughter, followed only by silence. Realizing that it wasn't a joke, a veil of disbelief passed before his eyes, and then exploded into ferocious anger. He would have strangled that ungrateful son, how dare he? The man's hands would have already been wrapped around the young man's frail neck, if his mother, who rarely asserted her opinions, had not intervened. Half an hour later Riccardo was outside the front door and walking bent under the weight of a large backpack, dragging two suitcases larger than him. His whole life was inside, thrown haphazardly. Paradoxically, Riccardo had never felt so light-hearted and, although his soul was hurt, he smiled at the thought that the next day he would go to see the state university of Milan. Riccardo spent a sleepless night at the Saronno station; he took the first train to Milan at 5:44 and then headed straight for the university.

Having arrived in front of the large building, he had to wait an hour and a half, because the large door opened at 7.30. In the almost deserted square, his eyes rested on a rainbow flyer hanging on the wall: it indicated the appointments of the LGBTQ+ collective of the university. Riccardo took a photo of it with his cell phone, thinking that perhaps someone among the members of that group could host him for a few days. When the guard opened the doors, Riccardo tried to reach the internal courtyard, but was immediately stopped: "where are you going with all these suitcases?" The guard asked, “They're for a lesson, I'm here because I have to assemble all the equipment. They told me we're on the top floor" Riccardo lied. The guard pointed with a perplexed look towards the way to an elevator that took him to the top floor, and Riccardo thanked him and set off with a determined step, before the guard could ask anything else. Once in the bathroom on the top floor, the poor exhausted boy locked the door and fell asleep.

It was long after noon when Riccardo woke up and headed to the meeting of the LGBTQ+ collective. Everywhere he went all those suitcases made him feel like a Martian who had just landed on planet earth. Riccardo identified the meeting room without problems, it was the noisiest of all. The cheerful chatter of those present did not stop when the boy entered the classroom, but a few poorly concealed glances quickly flew from the boy's face, to his body, to his heavy luggage.

As usual, before starting the meeting each boy stood up in turn repeating out loud his name, his faculty, how many years he had been studying and how many years he had attended the collective. When it was his turn, Riccardo stood up and said "I'm Riccardo, I'm 19 years old, I'm not a student and my parents just kicked me out of our home". Since everyone was staring at him with dismay and made no sign of going on with the introductions, Riccardo continued his story by summarizing what had happened to him in the last hours.

That evening Riccardo slept on the sofa of a group of roommates who were members of the collective, the following day the boys of the collective had spread Riccardo's story to half of the LGBTQ+ community of Milan. For three weeks Riccardo bounced from one sofa to another, he quickly found a job as an usher at the Carcano, the famous theater, then finally he moved (more or less permanently) renting a room in an apartment in the suburbs. Now he shared the house with Simone, a thirty-year-old with a massive physique: he had no hair, he was not very manly in his ways and he worked as an assistant and researcher at the university. The two got along well, but their schedules were so different that they rarely crossed paths in the apartment.

That day Simone had to give a lecture at university, so Riccardo was alone at home. Riccardo sat on that stiff sofa with the cup in his hand and while the tea bag colored the water, the young man's fingers turned over the strange colored paper package where the teabag had been kept shortly before. "I wonder where does Silvia get these things?" he thought. Silvia was a friend of Simone, one of those girls who think they are a bit witchy and collect crystals and supposedly magical objects; wherever Silvia passed, she left behind a trail of trinkets and nonsense that she believed were prodigious and Simone let her do it, just to make her happy. The sachet had some illegible writing on it, but for Riccardo it was as if it said "Silvia brought this".

Smoke rose silently from the cup of hot water, and a sweet aroma wafted through the room. "...Vanilla? ...Caramel? ...Hazelnut?" Riccardo asked himself as he inhaled the intense fragrance released by the cup. It was such a full-bodied scent that it seemed to penetrate the skin and warm the body like a hot bath. There you go, perhaps for the first time in weeks Riccardo was managing to relax. "If only this fleece sweatshirt didn't itch so much," he thought, and then he began to undress. It was a really strange garment, until a few moments ago it seemed soft and comfortable, but now it stung unbearably.

Standing shirtless on the sofa, Riccardo brought the cup to his lips, blew, and then took a small sip: it was the best tea he had ever drunk, sweet but not cloying, it almost tasted like... A kiss. This too was a strange thought, Riccardo had never kissed a man's lips, yet that was the taste he associated it with. Riccardo waited patiently to let the drink cool down a little, then took a few sips. The warmth of the drink spread to every corner of his body, giving a profound feeling of well-being. It had been a lifetime since Riccardo felt so good, he felt alive, he wanted to go for a run outside, to go out and look at the sky, to start a new chapter in his life...

"I have to ask Silvia where she got this stuff" he thought, scratching his beard.

Yet another unusual event: Riccardo had never had a beard, yet now it was there, thick and black, almost like that of his roommate. Riccardo, prey to the almost orgasmic sensation given by the colorful tea, paid no attention to his beard, nor to the hair that was starting to grow on the rest of his body. The beard gave Riccardo a distinguished look, he looked a few years older but it suited him really well. With that hair he looked more muscular, but was it an illusion or were they real muscles? How was something like this possible? This explained his desire to move and run, his new muscles were warm and ready, like a racing bike that had just left the store. But running for what? Running to whom? Riccardo decided to get dressed and go out, but first he finished the contents of his cup in large gulps.

The desire to go out immediately vanished and Riccardo remained sitting exactly as before, dazed and in disbelief. A sense of sudden relaxation permeated his body, which gradually began to sink into the sofa. The cushions bent and deformed under the sudden weight of Riccardo's mass, which began to increase impressively. The little skin and bones body that Riccardo had until a few minutes before was nothing but a distant memory, covered as it was with muscles, flesh and fur.

The transformation that was taking place would have astonished anyone, a little man of not even twenty years old now easily looked over thirty, and had multiplied his size as he never could have done in his life, not even if he had started living by binging and lifting weights. Riccardo was satisfied, relaxed and happy, a bit like how you feel after a big Christmas dinner.

When that feeling dissipated, he reached a mirror and observed himself with satisfaction: He was a really good-looking man. Despite the absurdity of the situation, Riccardo remained calm, as if everything was perfectly under control, as if he were the one who wanted to change into another person. The more he looked at himself in the mirror, the more he realized that his build looked like an exact copy of Simone's. Who knows what the neighbors would have said? With those two gorillas in the apartment next door (one of which had probably eaten that skinny boy who is no longer seen). Speaking of Simone, how could he explain to him that that teabag had transformed him into such a beast? At the word "beast" Riccardo had the idea of checking a very important part of the body, which he hadn't yet thought about. Even before he put his hand there, he couldn't help but feel a certain movement in his underwear, but a sudden noise interrupted the delicate moment: they were Simone's keys in the lock of the door. Riccardo's heart began to beat so fast that it seemed to have grown too. For the first time a sense of concern permeated that new and massive body, which now walked awkwardly in front of the front door.

The door swung open revealing a tiny figure covered in a much too big blue t-shirt. A cute and frowning blond boy was staring at Riccardo. "Simone?" Riccardo asked in amazement.

Simone had drunk the same tea that morning, but to him it seemed like a perfectly normal tea and he had gone to give his lesson. During the return journey on the tram, he felt sudden dizziness and decided to get off, fearing that traveling on public transport would make the situation worse. As he walked home, he began to shrink and rejuvenate, and while his body took the shape of Riccardo's, soft blond hair grew on his head, while his beard vanished without leaving the slightest trace. Simone couldn't believe what was happening, how could he stop this? The more his body transformed, the more the desire to run home arose in him, which was quite difficult with shoes and clothes that were decidedly too big, so much so that he necessarily had to hold them up firmly with his hands so as not to lose them on the street. The poor guy ran holding those enormous trousers with two hands, it almost looked like he was taking part in a sack race. Since the trousers fell everywhere and hid nothing, they were now just an obstacle and Simone decided to abandon them on the street. Running in his underwear allowed him to go faster, after all there was only the last bit of road left to go.

He reached the front door repeating in his head the speech he wanted to give to Riccardo to explain what had happened to him, but the biggest shock was yet to come.

Opening the door Simone was astonished, but immediately understood that that big, bare-chested man with a visible erection in his trousers was none other than Riccardo.

It wasn't necessary to say another word, the two knew exactly what had happened to the other, even if they had no idea why something like this had happened. Then they felt stronger than ever that impulse to sprint, to run, to reach... each other. That was why Riccardo wanted to run out, the same reason that pushed Simone to run home: A magnetic force attracted them to each other. Simone swallowed, his eyes moving from Riccardo's face to his swollen package, while his little feet moved carrying him towards the big man. As Simone walked, he also dropped his underwear, which was now loose on him. Riccardo also freed Simone from his shirt (which almost reached his knees) and saw that Simone was also very excited. While Simone tried to return the favor and unbuttoned his roommate's belt, Riccardo couldn't help but look at the little body in front of him, with his small throbbing erection: "you're the cutest thing I've ever seen" he said.

Simone blushed and once he had removed the belt from Riccardo's trousers, he pushed him towards the bedroom and closed the front door.

Riccardo lifted Simone and put him on the bed, he thought he looked really cute small like that, then without hesitation he took off his own trousers and underwear.

Simone didn't even have time to realize that Riccardo's member was even bigger than the one he had before transforming. Riccardo reached his roommate, dragging his knees on the sheets and bent down to give him a kiss: it was a sweet-tasting kiss, perhaps because Riccardo's lips still tasted like tea. Simone had never received a kiss like that, he would have liked time to stop there. Riccardo's warm skin in contact with Simone's was the most beautiful sensation they had ever felt.

Riccardo moved, made Simone lie on his back and opened his legs, to insert his bearded face under his balls: it was such a sensitive spot that Simone was afraid of coming immediately, only to be touched there by Riccardo's lips, who instead he started licking the boy's little hole. Simone trembled with pleasure (since when was he so sensitive?) while he clung to the sheets, the desire to grasp the gigantic manhood of that big man with both hands made room in his head.

When Riccardo raised his head, Simone moved and gave way to Riccardo, noticing that in his haste he had forgotten to remove his socks. While the big man stretched out his broad back on the bed, Simone struggled to take off his gray socks, now deformed because they covered feet that had just multiplied their size. There was something exciting in this action, Simone thought it was weird, he had never had similar tastes, usually feet left him indifferent, but now he couldn't let Riccardo's heavy leg fall back on the mattrass. Instead, he brought his foot close to his lips and kissed the sole of the large foot, then ran it over the skin of his torso, up to his pubis. Riccardo, smiling amused, used his toes to tickle Simone's erection which now more than ever seemed about to explode. Extremely excited, Simone lowered his face to Riccardo's hairy pubis and kissed him repeatedly. Riccardo's erection was also throbbing, Simone grabbed it with one hand, while the other delicately held the two big balls. Riccardo suddenly felt totally subservient to that bold blond, now that his powerful new tool was entirely in his hands. Simone brought his face closer to the precious loot and took it into his mouth, putting into practice all the experience he had in this kind of things. Riccardo, faced with that completely new sensation, was on the verge of coming several times, but before doing so there was at least one other thing he wanted to try.

Simone moved and straddled Riccardo, as if it were the response to a telepathic message. After having lubricated the area properly and having put the largest condom that was in Simone's drawer, Riccardo delicately inserted his member into Simone's thin opening. He was generally versatile, but it had been years since he had found a top partner. It was one of the most intense relationships of his life, and he thought that whatever had happened had been necessary to bring the two of them there, in that moment, in that form, into that bed. They came within seconds of each other, then moved to the bathroom to clean themselves.

With a slightly clearer mind, Riccardo asked: "...and now? what do we do looking like this?". Simone, sitting on the bidet, had his back to his roommate and without raising his eyes replied: "There’s only one thing to do: now I'll call Silvia and ask her if this situation is temporary or permanent. If necessary, we'll stay at home for some time waiting for it to wear off".

Riccardo's face darkened, he didn’t know why but he didn't want things to go back to the way they were before. "If it's just a temporary thing, would you like to have another cup of that tea every now and then?" Riccardo asked with a shyness that was even more endearing on a big man like that. "Another cup of what? And what if it's permanent?" Simone replied in an astonished and worried tone. Riccardo crouched behind Simone and gave him a kiss on the shoulder, then said: "If it were permanent, would you like to go out with me?"

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𝘓𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪 𝘪𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪 𝘥𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘦𝘣 𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭'𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘢 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘦. 𝘚𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘪 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘢 𝘥𝘪 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘪 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪 𝘵𝘶𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘵à, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰. 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘦.

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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘣 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

#gay body swap #gay tf #gay transformation #gaytamorfosi #male body swap #male tf #male transformation #age regression #male muscle growth #age progression #body swap #age swap

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harrietbarnesblog · 11 months ago

Text

You're losing me

Masterpost

Masterlist

Pairing: Seungmin x reader

Warning: cheating (suggestive), arguments, wounds, crying, my shitty ass writing

It's very common to have arguments in a relationship. But what if the relationship is nothing but arguments. Sometimes some funny shit would turn into a serious argument between you and Seungmin.

You loved him so much you never thought of leaving him even though you two argue way too much for a regular couple.

“I don't understand, y/n” he said furiously.

“I know you don't.”

“I thought everything was fine.”

“Leave me alone for a few minutes.”

He left the room. The room was bright with light. You once used to adore this room. It used to be yours and his favourite room. Now looking at it you feel tortured. You reach for the string of LED lights hanging on the wall. You rip it out and throw it and slide down the wall crying.

Last week you and Seungmin had another argument over a girl. He liked her post and claimed it was an accident. But he also texted her. How can that be an accident too? He said, “you are reading too much into things, y/n.” You apologised. “Will we be alright?” you asked him. “Yes, my love.” he kissed your forehead and held you in his arms.

Next you woke up with a blaring headache. Seungmin wasn't next to you where he usually was to be when you usually wake up. You heard someone laugh from outside your room. You went outside to see who it was. It was Seungmin on the call with someone. He wasn't talking much but he was being loud in a sense.

“Can you keep it quiet? I have a headache.” You told him. He just nodded.

“We can add that song in the next album because it doesn't suit this album's aesthetics.” He spoke into the phone. You assumed he was talking to Chan.

You sat on the sofa next to him massaging your temples. You felt like you wanted to cry. Seungmin was fiddling with an empty glass vase in his hands. It was usually filled with flowers that he would buy for you. But he had stopped buying you anything at all. He would come home late and leave early to the studio. His hands accidentally slipped and the vase shattered on the floor. A small piece pierced your leg. You hissed in pain and started to cry. Seungmin didn't notice you crying yet. Still on the phone. He said, “ one second, hyung. I'll be back.”

He picked up the bigger pieces of glasses with his hand and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back with a broom and a plastic cover. It was now he noticed you crying.

“Darling, what happened?” you glared at him with storms in your eyes. Your eyes were filled with anger and pain.

You said nothing. You stood and walked away from there into the bathroom. You picked the glass piece from your leg and washed it till the blood stopped. You took some ointment and applied it and put a bandaid on it. You took a painkiller tablet and went to sleep.

When you woke up he wasn't there. There was no note, nothing just emptiness.

That was a week but still you can't help but relive through that memory.

You were dying internally but he couldn't take a hint of that when you bite down your nail and be silent in his existence. The love between you two was dying. You were sick of it. But he wasn't ready to admit it.

At the table near you was a photo of you and him. You picked in your hands and smashed it against the wall. You picked it again and traced his face. You didn't know what to do.

“I'm sorry.” He said standing at the room's doorway.

“Sorry won't cut it out, Seungmin.”

“Give us one last chance. Please.”

“You're losing me, Seungmin. Can't you feel it” the air was thick with loss and indisposition.

“We dated for 10 years. We have known each other since birth. I can't lose you, y/n.”

“All you are saying is you don't wanna lose but I never hear from you how much you love. All my friends are engaged after months of dating. I dated you for 10 years and I got nothing out of it. You ignore me all the time. I'm right in front of you and I still feel invisible. we are far gone to bring back to life. It's like I'm fighting in your army in the frontline but you won't address me.”

“So you are saying all of this because I didn't put a ring on your finger.”

“God it's not that. It's about taking our relationship to the next level.”

“Exactly getting married.”

“Okay fine it is one of the causes. Did you think I won't be a good wife?”

He kept silent.

“I understand. I won't marry me either.” you conceded.

“It's not that I won't marry you. It's just that…. I..umm…”

“Seungmin do something. Say something. Risk something. I have nothing to lose unless you are choosing me.” You pleaded.

“I don't love you anymore y/n. That's the truth. But I want you in my life like the friend you once you used to be.”

“ I can't do that, I'm sorry. I'm leaving.” You said.

You picked a suitcase and packed all your clothes. He didn't try to stop you or anything. He just let you go.

#seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz #skz x you #Spotify

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justsomerandomfanfic · 29 days ago

Note

Hey, could I get a supernatural match up? Don't really have a preference for platonic or romantic, both maybe?

I'm 19, bi, he/him

Appearance: I'm pretty pale, green eyes, freckles but just on my face, 5'6. Kinda lanky, but hourglass, which is weird for a guy but eh. My hair is a warm brown, short, side swept bangs, the tips of my hair stick out the bottom of my beanies when I wear them( think Sid Jenkins from Skins)

I tend to wear hoodies, sweaters, silly graphic tees. I have big square glasses that I'm pretty much blind without. I also almost always have my headphones on or around my neck. I wear a lot of jeans too, but my cargo pants r my fav, lots of pockets to hold my trinkets

Personality: I'm pretty awkward at first, stand off ish, but once someone gets to know me I'm pretty goofy. I'm kinda sensitive though, my feelings get hurt easily. I'm also kinda clueless, if it isn't something pertaining to my interests, I'm a complete idiot with zero braincells. Im a crazy cat guy too. I adore those lil guys. Very big music person too, I listen to lost of different types(call me polyJAMorous) but metal is my fav. I'm also kinda a coward. Im constantly worrying about how things could go wrong. Not sure if this is important or not but I'm also schizophrenic.

Other: my platonic love languages are quality time and acts of service. I enjoy just sitting in a room w someone, both of us doing our own thing but doing them together. But romantically it's physical touch and gift giving/receiving. Big pda fan, major cuddle bug. Also love both giving and receiving gifts.

Hello!

I hope you like your romantic and platonic matchups for SPN!

Enjoy!

Romantic And Platonic Matchup; Supernatural

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Supernatural;

Sam Winchester -

You and Sam met during your shared creative writing class in college.

You sat in the back, hoodie up, headphones hanging around your neck, looking like you wanted to disappear into the walls.

Today was just one of those days...

You didn't get enough sleep the night before so...

Sam, being the kind and observant guy he is, noticed you immediately.

He thought you seemed quiet and maybe even a little bit lonely.

The first time he talked to you was when he sat next to you in class and asked, "Cool Metallica hoodie. Are you a fan?"

It took you a bit, but within a good couple of minutes before class, you were ranting about your favorite songs and albums.

He knew he liked you instantly.

Over time, you'd sit next to each other during lectures.

Sam became your "human notebook" partner, always letting you borrow notes when your brain checked out halfway through class.

Why were lectures so boring sometimes?

They just drone on and on and on-

Sam admired your quiet but goofy personality and found your awkwardness endearing.

You brought out his soft, patient side and he always made an effort to help you feel comfortable.

You two spent a lot of time in the library, you writing or sketching after doing some homework, while Sam poured over textbooks.

He loved how you'd absentmindedly hum mental songs under your breath while doodling on your notes.

Study sessions often turned into Sam helping you not worry about upcoming assignments, quizzes, and tests, promising, "We'll get through it together."

It made you feel safe knowing he was so reliable.

He got to know your quicks quickly - how you always fidget with your hoodie strings when nervous, how your headphones were almost like a security blanket, and how you were surprisingly witty with your jokes once you truly opened up.

Sam quickly learned about your love for cats.

You showed him photos of your furry friends, and though he wasn't a huge cat person at first, he thought your enthusiasm was adorable.

Sam realized he had romantic feelings when he caught himself looking forward to every moment he got to spend with you - whether it was doing homework together, sharing music recommendations, or just sitting quietly in each other's presence.

For you, it was during one of those "just sitting in a room together" moments.

You looked up from your sketchbook to see him smiling softly at you.

It made your heart flutter in a way you weren't prepared for.

Sam is nothing if not patient.

He didn't push or overwhelm you.

Instead, he made you feel valued with small gestures - walking you to classes, remembering your favorite coffee or tea order, or offering his jacket when you randomly forgot yours.

He was gentle about your worries and anxieties, reassuring you with his calm presence.

"Hey, you're not alone in this. I've got you back, okay?"

It happened late one night in your dorm.

You were curled up next to him on your small couch, dozing off after a long study session, your headphones sliding down from your ears and onto your neck.

Sam glanced at you with so much fondness it almost scared him.

When you stirred awake, he blurted out, "I think I like you. I mean... I do like you... Like more than a friend should."

You, still half-asleep, blinked at him before realizing what he said.

You grinned sleepily and replied, "Yeah? Well, I like you too. More than a friend should."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head at how effortlessly you made his heart race.

Sam loves how cuddly you are.

He'll often pull you into big bear hugs, which are amazing since he is so tall, lifting you off the ground for a second just to hear your laugh.

You spend hours curled up on the couch under a big blanket, him reading a book while you draw or play on your Switch, PlayStation, or Xbox.

He's incredibly thoughtful about gifts.

He'll notice when you're running out of drawing supplies or when your favorite band drops new albums or merch, surprising you with little packages that make your day.

Sam loves your music tastes.

He lets you introduce him to all the metal bands you love. And even the other genres you love too. Sometimes you'll catch him bobbing his head to a song while researching lore in the bunker.

At this point, you do find out all about Sam and Dean's job, of, you know, hunting.

Movie nights are a must.

You always pick fantasy films or horror classics, and Sam is more than happy to hour you - even if you tease him for jumping at a few scary parts.

At the end of the day, you guys watch almost every genre of movies and TV shows.

You'd do anything to help Sam out, even making playlists or writing down positive notes for when his worries get heavy.

Sam treasures those little reminders of how much you care about him.

You're a team when it comes down to chores.

Sam will vacuum and do the heavy lifting while you do laundry or organize the pantry.

(Dean does the dishes.)

Morning tea or coffee is a quiet ritual.

Sam will sit next to you, sipping his drink while you doodle or scroll through your phone.

Sometimes, he'll place a sleepy kiss on your temple because he just can't help himself.

When you're overwhelmed, Sam's the first to notice.

He'll take your hand, guide you to the couch or your shared room, and rub circles on your back.

He knows how much physical touch helps ground you.

He loves seeing your hair peek out from under your beanies.

It's such a "you" thing that it never fails to make him smile.

(Just a quick thing, you do worry whenever Sam and Dean leave for a hunt, but Sam always makes sure to reassure you and comfort you before he leaves, promising to come back.)

Sam would 100% surprise you with a cat-themed gift, like a silly hoodie that says, "Crazy Cat Guy" because he thinks it's funny.

He'll encourage you to pursue your hobbies and dreams - whether it drawing, writing, or getting lost in video games.

He loves when you try and teach him how to play your favorite video games.

You show Sam it's okay to take breaks.

You drag him into playing video games with you, while you talk about nothing and everything.

You constantly doodle little sketches of him.

Sam keeps them all, tucked away safely because they mean the world to him.

You make him look so pretty.

(And don't worry, unlike most of Sam's relationships, you don't die a horrific death or anything.)

~~~

Platonic;

Crowley -

Crowley first met you when you a long bi after you started dating Sam.

He pretended not to care about "The Winchesters' New Friend," but secretly found you intriguing because of your dry humor and sarcasm.

The first time you bantered with Crowley, he was shocked - most people are too scared to really banter with him, except for the Winchesters, of course.

Crowley takes an odd liking to you and, much to Sam’s (and Dean's) dismay begins appearing whenever he feels like it - usually when you’re alone and minding your business with your headphones on.

"You really should pay more attention to your surroundings. Lucky for you, I’m not here to collect a soul. Not today, at least."

He loves to mess with you but always in a way that’s more teasing than malicious.

When he finds out how much of a cat lover you are, he constantly compares you to his Hellhounds.“You know, you’d love my Hellhounds. If you could see them, of course. A big fluffy menace—just like your precious cats.”

Not really fluffy.

Surprisingly, Crowley respects your music taste.

In fact, Crowley occasionally brings you high-quality vinyl records, stating it’s a “loan” (but never asks for them or anything back).

For some reason, since he calls Sam "Moose" and Dean "Squirell", you called him "Fruby."

(Since they are evil and all.)

For revenge, Crowley called you "Mittins" since you love cats so much.

He adores teasing you for being a “crazy cat guy” but would 100% get you some rare, expensive cat-related trinkets as a gift. “You’re lucky I like you, mate.”

When you and Sam are cuddling on the couch, Crowley will pop in just to groan dramatically. “Disgusting. Get a room.” He secretly loves seeing how happy you make Sam.

He may be Crowley, King of Hell, but he cares.

You two bond over sarcasm and a shared dislike for unnecessary drama. You both roll your eyes at people being overly dramatic, exchanging knowing looks.

Slay.

The day Crowley gives you one of his Hellhounds is both terrifying and oddly heartwarming.

You and Sam are sitting around the bunker when Crowley makes a grand entrance, as always.

He announces that he’s brought you a “gift” and, after a dramatic flourish, presents... Absolutely nothing.

"There you go, darling. Meet your new pet. Don’t worry - you’ll feel it wagging its tail soon enough.”

At first, you think he’s joking until you start feeling something big and invisible brushing against your legs and hear the sound of heavy paws padding behind you wherever you go.

Despite your initial panic (and Sam’s frustration), Crowley assures you that this Hellhound has been trained just for you.

It’s gentler than the others and listens to your commands.

You jokingly name it “Fluffy,” which Crowley finds absolutely ridiculous but endearing.

“Fluffy? Really? Remind me again why I thought you were worthy of such a majestic beast?”

Over time, you get used to your invisible companion. You even find comfort in its presence, especially when you’re feeling anxious or paranoid.

It growls at strangers you don’t trust and stays curled at your feet when you’re listening to music or cuddling Sam.

Crowley loves dropping by to check on you and your Hellhound, smirking whenever you’re scratching at “thin air” like it’s a cat.

“You spoil that hound of Hell far too much. No wonder it likes you better than me.”

Even Crowley respects your love for quiet companionship.

He’ll lounge nearby, pretending to read an ancient scroll or whatever he does, while you listen to music or doodle.

If he’s feeling sentimental, he might remark on how “calm” your presence is.

“Most humans grate on my last nerve, but you? You’re tolerable.”

#cute #fluff #x reader #x you #x y/n #request #requested #anon request #matchup #matchups #headcanons #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley supernatural

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kikuism · 4 months ago

Note

mariaaam~ looking at your ocs; what do you think their rooms would look like, as far as aesthetic goes? in a modern setting

hi res!! this is a great question and one i feel ill-equipped to answer hgkshfjd honestly i'm really not great at this kind of stuff, i'm not good at visualizing spaces, and personalized ones at that, my brain doesn't work that way....i can describe it in terms of the purpose it serves but, like, aesthetics? that's just a room beloved <3 but i'll try

so the only room i actually have a good idea of is kou’s, because his is very different from everyone else’s: nothing hanging up on the wall, no trinkets adorning his desk. no visual decor, it's unnecessary clutter. it's incredibly plain and simple. just a futon, a desk to the side, a rotating fan, and perhaps a plant, and he is very neat and orderly because, since he can't rely on his vision, he needs to know exactly where everything is, everything is meticulously organized. the colors are high contrast, so they're easier for him to make out. he loves keeping the window open for the fresh air and ambient sounds. oh, tatami is essential for him too, provides a nice grip, orients him. it's a very zen-like space which suits him perfectly....his room is just the place where he gets ready for the day and unwinds at the end. all his hanging out happens outside—in the living room, responding to messages from kiku, chatting with his mother, with noriko.

everyone else has western style beds, and desks, and lamps, the usual. now the individual tastes come in. noriko’s easy—movie posters and magazine cutouts on the walls, and her record player of course, her shelf of records, as well as a bean bag chair, and out of everyone she's got the most knickknacks lying around, something or other she's tinkering with. love to imagine her with a corkboard of photos connected with string as she tries to put together the pieces of some pop culture conspiracy <3 to her only audience of kou, lounging back in the beanbag chair.

naomi’s display is quite subtle, minimalistic: a smiski perched on a stack of books, a little dove shaped trinket holder where she keeps her earrings, lipgloss, etc, and a small stack of well loved books, perhaps a single miffy plush—very orderly, with sparks of personality sprinkled through. the one obvious display, though, is a little collection of photographs of her family throughout the years, but this isn't out of some emotional sentiment, it's more out of duty hfkshfhd oh naomi. she spends more time at her desk than on her bed. the bed is just a place to sleep, not a place to hang out or wallow. if naomi needs to stew in her feelings she's going to go for a run.

kiku is also selective in what displays in the open so it's rather nondescript: some ghibli prints on the wall, album covers, lego on his desk, souvenirs from his mother's travels, gifts from naomi over the years, very 'safe'. the happy together (wong kar wai) poster is not going up on the wall. his room is quite cozy, ambient lighting, a soft rug. for kiku his bed is the most important place in the world, it's where the mask comes off, every sigh of frustration and pleasure muffled under the covers. he can be his true wretched, yearning self <3

#ty res!!!#room layout and colors....i didn't even try <3 gomennn #for me a room is more about like. what it represents emotionally and what kind of space it is for the character #rather than what it looks like #answered #keenma

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 2 years ago

Text

live inside a cage

(robert aeor high au p9)

masterpost

again- its been forever since last update lmao i was in colorado for my cousin's graduation- so i have had literally NO time to write or anything for the past like 5 days. but i'm back with part 9 which is CRAZY, my original plan is to have 14 parts so we're nearing the end at least for now!

“J-jimmy? What happened, what am I doing here, w-why am I here? The last thing I remember…” his voice trails off, trying to pinpoint a spot in his memory. “The last thing I remember is my father yelling at me to get out of the house, did he… W-wha-” Scott’s at a loss for words, confused and scared and none of this makes sense, what is going on-

or, Scott doesn't remember almost ANY of part 7 so that's very fun :)

TW: amnesia, slight blood, internalized homophobia, references to past abuse, suicidal thoughts, etc.

(4708 words)

The light is blinding through the window when Scott wakes, his eyes shut tight against the morning glow. His bed feels softer than normal, his sheets don’t slip like the satin he’s used to- in fact, where’s all that light coming from anyway? Scott always sleeps with his curtains closed, the ones in the windows as well as the ones around his four-poster bed.

He tries to stretch, not quite awake as he realizes his arms are wrapped around something or someone, though he’s fairly certain they’re a person. Their warm hands are pressed lightly over his own colder pair, rising and falling in tandem with every breath they breathe. Scott’s eyes flash open, spotting his shades on the ground and pulling them on, extracting his arms from around whoever he’s sharing this bed with.

Moving his head causes him the most painful jolt in his skull, and he grimaces, pressing his hands to his temples. He takes a deep breath in… and out. What is happening? Where is he?

Once his eyes are comfortably protected again, he looks around to get a good sense of what’s going on. The first thing he notices is that he’s absolutely not in his bedroom anymore- the place is a bright attic room, with the roof slanting in at such an angle that there are strings of lights hanging from it, familiar-seeming photos clipped to the wire. The window above the bed is eastward-facing, the light from the pink and orange sunrise pouring through. The walls are some sort of light-colored wood, which just contributes to the brightness and overall lighthearted whimsey of the room. There are even a few bamboo plants in the corner.

The second thing he notices is the person his arms had been wrapped around. It’s Jimmy.

What. The. Fuck.

“Scott, you’re up,” the avian says, cocking his head inquisitively, his bird-like mannerisms so achingly familiar that Scott knows he can’t be dreaming. “How are you feeling?” Jimmy moves towards him, and he shies away, pulling his arms over his head, completely and utterly overwhelmed.

Jim stares at him, taken aback. “You don’t- you don’t remember anything?”

“N-no, why?”

“You’re sure? Nothing. Not even a smidgen.”

“Not even a little bit, why-”

The boy sitting next to him takes a deep breath, his brow lowering in something that resembles disappointment, or maybe it’s annoyance; he’s never been the best at gauging emotions.

“Ohh-kay, then,” Jimmy says, leaning back against the bed frame. “This is going to be a lot- do you want breakfast first?”

Scott shakes his head. “I need to know.” It’s like there’s a gap in his memory and it makes him feel too out of control, he can’t function without knowing what he’s been doing, it scares him. It scares him more than he’d like to admit.

“I thought you’d say that,” Jimmy sighs, stretching out his wings. Scott can’t help but remember the way his hands had been wrapped around the avian’s waist as they slept, the way it had felt right, as if somehow he and Jimmy have always been meant to know each other, and maybe it’s okay that Scott’s- no. Stop. No. Not allowed. He refocuses his attention on the avian by his side.

“So, it was about nine forty-five last night, and I heard a knock at my door. You were there, sopping wet with a giant cut stretching across your cheek, and a horrific concussion.”

“Wait- what? Why was I- what happened?” He lifts his finger to his cheek, and just as Jimmy’s said, he feels a deep gash, stinging when he touches it. His hand comes away with a few drops of watery red varnishing his fingertips.

“Okay… are you sure you want to hear this?”

Scott nods vigorously, only further agitating the pain in his head. “I need. To know.”

The avian takes a deep breath before all his words come out in a guilty rush, as if he’s somehow at fault for telling Scott this. “Your dad kicked you out- like, he kicked you out of the house, disowned you, all that shit-”

“What?!” That can’t be what happened- Jimmy’s having a laugh, there’s got to be some other reason, there has to be-

Jimmy winces at his reaction, the sadness and almost empathy, as if he’s experienced a similar thing before, laid plain upon his face. “That’s… that’s what you said, yeah. You said you’d told him you were gay and he’d kicked you out. You’d refused to leave and he threw a vase at your head- I assume a shard of that ran across your face and that’s what caused the cut, and I know it definitely caused the concussion. Scott, I’m so sorry, genuinely. Your father sounds like a world-class shithead.”

Scott feels like he’s falling away, his soul leaving his body, dripping down through the floor. No. There’s no way that’s what happened- Father wouldn’t, he couldn’t- and Scott said he was gay? He’s not gay. He can’t be gay. What would happen if he told his father… though from what Jimmy’s saying, he’s already done that- what boneheaded reason would he-

Oh. Right, he remembers- he did it for Jimmy. There was more nuance to it, sure, but if you get down to the basis of it, Father was insulting Jimmy and Scott just snapped, angry and yelling and altogether acting absolutely unacceptable. He’s so stupid, why would he do something like that, he’s always put himself first, put his own survival before the wellbeing of anyone else, what’s changed?

“That’s- that’s a lot to take in, okay, give me a second,” Scott mutters, his head still throbbing. “And I- I’m not- I can’t be gay, do you know what my father would do to me?”

Jimmy looks at him, concerned. “Scott, he’s already gone and pulled the final card- he disowned you, and I know you don’t really remember- but he’s gone, he’s not going to be a part of your life anymore, I won’t let him. You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, he can’t do anything more to hurt you. I’m not- I don’t use labels, but I know I’m not straight. Most of our friends aren’t straight. You’re safe with us, okay?”

Scott wants to scream, because why can’t Jimmy see what he’s trying to say?! “You don’t understand,” he yells, burying his face in a pillow. “I want to be all accepting of myself and stuff, but I can’t get my heart into it- logically, I am. Logically I know that people care about me and I’m not worthless and defective and-” He takes a breath, and Jimmy waits for him to continue, the avian’s eyes betraying much more than Scott wants to see.

“I know that’s all true. But I’ve lived with this for so long, feeling like I’m lesser, telling myself that no one cares, that there’s a particular way I have to be, that it’s ingrained in my mind and I can’t scrub it out- and I- I just want to live my life and I hate who I am and I c-can’t-” Scott tries to swallow down his tears, but that only causes more of them to come until he can’t stop the torrent, spreading down his cheeks and his face and freezing before they can hit the ground, little pellets of white ice clinking down onto the hard wooden floor.

Jimmy doesn’t hesitate. He moves forwards, towards Scott, and this time he doesn’t resist, leaning into the avian’s warm embrace, cold and hot, blue and yellow, like they’ve always been meant to balance each other out. But he’s just crying more now, because he’s just told Jimmy almost everything- and in doing so, he feels he’s finally fully admitted to himself that the truth of the matter is the fact that he’s in love.

He’s fallen hard for a canary he met only a month ago- well, it more like snuck up on him, and the truth was on him before he could react, and now he doesn’t know what to do. What happens now? His only defining trait is his self-hatred, the dark ghost that eats him up from the inside until he inevitably decides that enough is enough and joins all the others like him on the other side- he shudders at the prospect but he knows it’ll be so much easier if he just lets go, but he can’t-

He doesn’t know anything about himself. And he says so before he can stop himself, the words choking out of his throat. Jimmy lifts a finger to his eyes, wiping away his tears.

“I know things about you,” Jimmy whispers, his face so close to Scott’s that the gorgon wants nothing more than to reach out a hand and string it through his hair, but he can’t, because Jimmy’s too good for him, he’s too sweet and caring and gorgeous and- “I know that you’re one of the most important people in my life. I know that you truly care about all of us, me and Shelby and Joel and Owen. I know that you try your hardest to please everyone. I know that you feel like you have to conform to a certain ideal. But you don’t- last night, you seemed so sure of yourself, and, um,” Jimmy falters, his cheeks going pink.

“What do you mean? I thought I had a concussion, am I missing something?”

“N-no, I told you everything, I think.” Scott scrunches his eyebrows. He can tell Jimmy’s lying, his tells are all running into overtime and it’s quite adorable to watch the avian so flustered.

“Anyway,” Jimmy barrels on, “as I was saying, if you just let yourself go, just… kind of let the person you feel you need to be evaporate, things are gonna be so much easier for you. Trust me, I would know.”

Scott sighs, frustrated. “You don’t get it. I want to, I want to start over and I want to just be able to smile and not feel guilty for it. But I can’t and plus, even though yeah, I guess I’m g-gay-” his lips feel strange around the word- “what am I gonna do about it? It’s not like- it’s not like the person I like could ever reciprocate my feelings.” It’s not like the person he likes could ever know that he’s sitting across from them right now, it’s not like Jimmy could ever look at Scott and see anything more than a broken boy, to be pitied instead of loved, embraced instead of kissed.

“The only time I’ve ever kissed anyone was-”

“At the zoo when you were eight, yeah, I know,” Jimmy laughs, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

“Wh- how?” Scott is so confused.

“You said so last night, and we, uh, yeah, I kinda share that memory? Guess I didn’t tell you everything.”

For the second time this morning, Scott feels the world falling out beneath him. That was Jimmy? There’s no way. He literally cannot conceive of a universe where he knew Jimmy and didn’t even realize it for the longest time, and now that he’s looking at the avian, he can see it. How did he not see it before? They have the same short stature, the same quivering smile, the same straw-blonde hair.

“Jimmy, what did I do? When we found out that we- um- that it was us at the zoo.” Scott doesn’t know much about himself, but he knows that if he figured out it was Jimmy, especially if he wasn’t quite in his right mind, he would absolutely do something stupid.

Jimmy draws his lips into a straight line. “I was trying not to tell you this, but I guess there isn’t much to be done for it, huh.” He laughs awkwardly, and maybe a little sadly, looking down at his bedsheets. “You kind of sort of… kissed me?”

“O-oh.” Scott is at a loss for words, his cheeks hot, and it takes all his energy to stop his hand from reaching up and touching his own lips, trying to regain some of the kiss. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t quite that. What was he fucking thinking? Though he supposes that’s kind of the point: he wasn’t thinking. He was delirious and he did a stupid thing and now Jimmy probably hates him, and he has to say something but the avian’s already beat him to it-

“I-it’s fine, I don’t mind,” Jimmy’s still smiling, though Scott’s certain now that it’s forced, that he does mind, because how could he not- from what it sounds like, Scott just popped in out of nowhere, soaked in rain, intruded on Jimmy’s evening, and kissed him.

“I-it’s not like I like you or anything,” Scott pleads, the raw desperation leaking into his voice. “I was just delirious, probably, I mean- I definitely don’t like you, like a crush, I mean- but you’re one of my closest friends and I care about you and I don’t want to lose that because I did something stupid when I had a concussion that one time.”

Scott’s flailing for words, trying to come up with something that sounds believable because he can’t ruin this, Jimmy’s too important, eyes watching expectantly for a reaction. Something falls in Jimmy’s face. Relief, Scott thinks- and as it should be.

“No, yeah, I don’t like you either,” Jimmy looks away, picking at his wings, “But genuinely, it’s fine. L-like you said: it was a mistake. And it won’t happen again? I just hope things won’t be awkwards between us.”

Scott’s heart drops another meter with

Every.

Fucking.

Word.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I think we’ll be fine,” Scott mutters, absolutely not happy with this outcome at all- but Jimmy doesn’t like him, he’s just said so himself, so there’s nothing wrong. Nothing’s wrong so long as Jimmy’s happy, and plus, had he really expected anything more?

Scott’s just going to have to deal with it.

“So we’re good?” Jimmy asks, smiling.

“We’re good.” Scott ignores the voice in his mind screaming that no, no they’re not good, because he can’t deal with it right now, he just needs to believe that things will go back to the way they were. He loves Jimmy too much to lose him, he loves Jimmy as a friend and he loves Jimmy as more, and if he loses that, if he loses the one thing that keeps him sane, he’s not going to be able to make it.

There’s a silence after Scott speaks. The air feels loaded with unspoken thoughts, Scott’s mind screaming that he’s an idiot, he let himself fall for someone who doesn’t like him, and it’s a million times worse now that he’s admitted to himself that he’s gay, that he’s in love, that he’s wishing for something more than the life he has- he’s always been grateful, and now his selfish side is taking over, yelling that he wants more, he wants more, he wants more-

After a couple moments, Jimmy clears his throat, springing into a standing position. “So… I need to introduce you to John and Laura, and we’ll try to figure something out after that, I think. I don’t know if you’ll be able to stay here-” please let me stay- “but you’re not going back to that mansion. Ever again. And if your dad tries to contact you, let me know right away, okay? I don’t want him hurting you more than he already has.”

Scott nods, pushing himself off the bed. Immediately, his head begins to throb, and he puts a shaking hand gently to his temple. “I don’t like doctors, but I think I need to get to one as soon as possible,” he admits, because the pain has just become too much, and his heartache and headache meld as one, twisting and turning and winding together.

Jimmy pushes Scott gently back down to the bed. “Stay there, okay? I’ll go talk to John and Laura.”

“Who are…?”

“Beks’ parents. They’re a little stiff at first, but trust me, they’re good people.” Jimmy walks out of the room backwards, holding Scott’s gaze for as long as possible, before quietly closing the door and leaving Scott on his own.

Immediately, he starts to break down, the stress of the last twenty four hours barrelling down on him, because even if he can’t remember some of it, the emotions he must have felt are still here, lurking inside of him like an ugly monster, rearing its head and begging to be let out.

He tries to steady his ragged breathing, sharp and quick and rolling around in the back of his throat, but he can’t because he’s-

Okay. Deep breath, Scott. He needs to go about this logically. What happened last night? First, Scott went home. He remembers that. His dad had found his phone and started yelling at him about things- he remembers that too.

He can also recall the vase being thrown at his head, though after that, everything’s a blank. He supposes he must have ran out of the house and headed straight to Jimmy’s. But why Jimmy? Owen lives right there, Scott could’ve gotten to his house in only a couple of strides- Owen would have been welcoming and helpful. But instead, he chose to walk an extra mile just for Jimmy? Jimmy lives the furthest away of any of his friends- does he really care about the avian that much?

Damn. He’s even more messed up than he thought. Scott rakes a hand backwards through his snakes, the imprints of Jimmy’s hands on his shoulders still warm even though Scott’s freezing up, literally and mentally: he can feel his body cooling rapidly, his hands shaking.

What the fuck is he doing with his life? His mind feels messed up, fuzzy and twisting and sharp, somehow all at once, and he knows it must be the concussion still affecting him in some way, but it just feels like how it should be- okay, okay, he needs to compose himself, get himself together-

That’s when he looks down and realizes he’s wearing a dress. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed the baby blue garment dripping off his body before, but now it’s more apparent than ever- Scott doesn’t own any nightgowns, so where…?

Oh.

Oh, god. His cheeks flush and he swallows nervously, because he’s just realized that the clothes he’s wearing are Jimmy’s, have to be Jimmy’s, because whose else would they be? Almost unconsciously, Scott lifts his collar to his nose, breathing in the scent of the fabric. It smells comfortable and safe, it smells like Jimmy, and he breathes in deeply, the scent practically tactile with how familiar it is.

Then the door creaks open and Scott drops his hands, drops the fabric, drops everything until he’s sitting up normally. A blonde head peeks through the crack, hand pushing back his ear feathers so he can properly look through. “You ready? John and Laura say that we’ve got some… explaining to do.” Scott nods, trying to pretend he hasn’t just been absolutely knocked out of the world.

Jimmy glances back nervously at someone behind him, opening the door. “Scott, meet John and Laura, Beks’ parents and my guardians. John, Laura, this is my best friend Scott.” Best friend? Scott shakes it off, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it right now, as through the doorway walk two avians, each about four inches shorter than Jimmy. They’re owls, which, given the fact that they’re Beky’s parents, Scott had kind of assumed.

John’s feathers are almost completely snow-white, little dabbles of gray marring the surface of his wings every hear and there, with the same hawkish nose that all owl avians share. A bushy, graying beard adorns his chin, with eyes that crinkle up at the corners and a warm sort of presence that seems to take up the whole room. Scott likes him immediately- he seems like someone who could never hurt anyone, even if he tries his hardest.

Laura, on the other hand… she has dark brown hair streaked with white, and her face seems to be trapped in a permanent vortex of worry and anger, her lips drawn in a tight, straight line, deeply defined wrinkles wrapping around her face- too many for someone who can’t be any older than forty. She’s thin, her arms wrapped protectively in around herself, her mottled brown wings folded tightly into her back, her ear feathers peaked up in the same way a great horned owl’s are.

Scott offers a timid wave to them both, very aware that he’s still sat under Jimmy’s comforter, wearing Jimmy’s nightgown- yeah, this doesn’t look the best for him. His snakes are betraying his anxiety, twisting and hissing and trying to move all over the place, which just makes him seem even worse than he does now. He quickly runs a hand backwards through them, trying to calm them down somewhat, and it works well enough for him to take a deep breath and plaster on a presentable smile, the kind he’s practiced a million times.

There are a couple beats of uncomfortable silence after Jimmy speaks, just making things even more awkward than they have to be. Then John clears his throat, coughing into his fist.

“Scott, was it? We’ve heard, uh, a lot about you.” John’s feeble attempt at conversation is met by Scott’s equally feeble response.

“From Jimmy?” Of course from Jimmy. Who else? Scott silently curses himself, it’s been too long since he’s had to meet someone’s parents. And even though John and Laura aren’t technically Jimmy’s parents, they’re close enough that he feels quite uncomfortable.

“And we know you aren’t doing anything bad to our boy,” John continues, seemingly taking the drivers’ seat while Laura simmers in the background, “but listen, son, we need to know what happened and why you’re here.” Scott glances at Jimmy, stood behind the older avians, and receives a vigorous nod.

“I, uh, I don’t remember all that much, so Jimmy might have to fill you in on some of it but, uh, to my knowledge-” he takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Let me start over. The first thing you need to know that will make this story make sense is that I’m gay.” His voice catches a little on the final word, shivering slightly because he’s admitting it to others, admitting it to himself.

A flicker of realization passes over both the parents’ faces, and they share an almost imperceptible glance that Scott only barely catches. They know what happened. Or the general gist of it, at least. And so his story comes roaring out, frothing like ocean waves over his head, everything he remembers crashing down. At some point, he’s not totally sure when, Jimmy’s sat down beside him, his hand resting lightly on Scott’s back.

And when he’s told all he can remember, Jim takes over, his hand subtly holding on to Scott’s, calmly and efficiently explaining the events of last night, conveniently skirting over the kiss. Scott doesn’t miss the occasional flicker of emotion across his voice, though, especially since whenever he mentions Father, a spike of anger lets through.

When the whole story’s been told, John and Laura glance at each other, Laura’s tight facade dropping a little as she furrows her brow, John pursing his lips slightly as she nods. Are you sure? the look seems to say, Are you completely and utterly certain?

“Laura and I need to go talk in the hall for a minute,” John explains, following his wife through the door and pushing it gently closed.

When they return, John’s arms are wrapped around Laura’s shoulders, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Has she been crying?

“You. Gorgon boy.” Scott realizes this is the first time he’s heard Laura speak, her voice is unexpectedly melodic and he wouldn’t be surprised if she was a gorgeous singer, much like his own mother. “John and I have talked it over, and even though we’ve already got Jimmy, we’re willing to take care of you for a while.”

Scott’s eyes widen. “Wha- I was just planning to go to the shelter or something, you don’t need to do this if it’s any trouble, I don’t want to impose especially as you’ve already got two kids to take care of.” Jimmy looks surprised as well, looking shocked but elated at Laura out of the corner of his eyes.

“Listen. We love Jimmy, Jimmy loves you, so by extent, we love you and want to make certain you’re okay. If there’s any way we can possibly help, we want to take it. But if you don’t mind, we do have one question?” John’s taken back the reins of the conversation, speaking with purpose and enough strength that Scott almost believes him.

Almost. Because they’re saying they love him, and no one loves Scott. They can think they love him, think they care about him, all they fucking want is someone they feel like they love. They’ll find out soon enough, when they get to know him better- he’s nothing, nothing at all, floating and dripping down from the sky like a tiny cloud that can’t even bother to exist anymore.

“Yeah,” Scott agrees.

“Why’d you come to Jimmy? Why not Joel, or Shelby, or Owen, they’re your other friends, right?”

“Yeah, they are- and I don’t know. It was stupid; Owen literally lives right at the end of the street. But now that I’m here, there’s really not much else I could go. Shelby’s house is literally miniscule, Owen has about fifty sisters, Joel’s family hate me, and I don’t have any other friends,” Scott explains in his best talking-to-parents voice, trying to stay neutral sounding, trying not to betray the tumultuous emotions warring right below his surface.

“Well. The point remains: you’re welcome in our home for as long as you need to be. We’re not exactly glad you’re here, but we’ll keep you safe anyway, no matter what.” John offers him one last smile, his head turning back as he steps out the door, Laura following.

And then they leave, and Scott is alone with Jimmy again. “Am I going to have to sleep in here?”

“I mean, unless you want to sleep on the couch,” Jimmy reasons, coughing and looking at the wall.

“No, I think I’d rather not,” Scott mutters, curling his hands into shaking fists. “I think it would feel, like, safer, I dunno- I think I would be a lot more comfortable with… with someone else in the room.”

“I get that,” Jimmy agrees, flopping down on the bed, his wings stretching out, the feathers tickling Scott’s back. “In that case, you’re welcome to sleep wherever you wish. There’s not really anywhere else in here other than my bed, though, so-”

“It’s fine,” Scott cuts him off, “Really. I don’t mind unless you mind.”

“No, um, yeah, that’ll work just fine for me.” Jimmy offers a smile and Scott tries to return it, but he’s certain that his mouth is quivering so much that there’s no way Jimmy’s buying it. He’s afraid his eyes are betraying his disappointment, the fact that he’s crushing on the one person who could never like him back- but he holds the smile, hoping that maybe by continuing to look happy, he’ll somehow become content with his situation.

Oh, fuck it. Scott knows there’s no shot of that happening. And so when Jimmy leaves the room to get them both breakfast, his familiar body absconding from the bed, Scott cries, and the walls push in around him and the bed he’ll have to share.

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super-ion · 2 years ago

Text

Ion & Emily

The Honeymoon - part 1

(more Ion & Emily)

Emily shook her head to clear the ringing. Shards of glass trickled out of her hair. She blinked in confusion at the smoking ruin of the hotel room.

Shit.

She was on her feet in an instant.

"Jen!"

They had taken Jen. Who were they? She didn't know for certain, but she had a pretty good idea. The list of people who could shoot lightning and held a grudge against Jen consisted solely of Thundercloud.

And he had just ruined her honeymoon.

She spotted her phone in the wreckage. Thankfully, mercifully, it seemed to be working despite the explosion. She flipped to the tracker app. Jen's phone was off, but the tracker on her bracelet had her heading east very quickly. Emily had balked at the idea of Jen wearing tracking devices. She didn't need to know Jen's location at all times, but Jen had insisted… you know, just in case. Just in case what? Emily had asked. Apparently the exact situation they now found themselves in.

Emily was never going to hear the end of it…

Emily examined her chest and the scorched hole in her shirt. The lighting bolt had knocked her across the room, and without any kind of protection, it likely shorted out Jen's brain and knocked her unconscious.

Approaching sirens brought her back to reality. She grabbed a jacket and ran out the door that was still hanging open. As she melted into the crowd, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts to one number in particular… emergency use only. She hesitated for a moment, her thumb hovering over the call button.

If she dialed this number, she'd do something she swore never to do again. But there were two people in the world who she would put the mask back on for, and one of them was in mortal peril. The decision wasn't as hard as she thought you it would be.

She dialed. It rang once… twice…

"Hello?" the voice came sleepily from the other end.

"It's Emily," she said. "I need project phoenix."

"What? Really??" The voice asked, suddenly more alert.

Naming it "project phoenix" hadn't been her idea. Supervillains were just dramatic like that. Sometimes you just had to go along with it.

"I wouldn't be calling you at 4am if Jen wasn't in danger," Emily replied.

"Okay, uh… are you still in Paris?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I need a known anchor point," the voice said. "I'm sending you coordinates. There's a brick wall under a footbridge, Jen and I tagged it. Send me a picture when you get there."

The line went dead and a moment later Emily received a text with an address and coordinates. It was only twenty minutes away from the hotel. Good.

She arrived at the designated spot and found a brick wall as promised. Among the graffiti covering it was "Ion était ici". Yeah, this was definitely it.

The thought of Jen traipsing around Europe with a pack of supervillains brought the tiniest pang of envy. Jen always recounted her hijinks with such enthusiasm that Emily occasionally almost found herself wanting to join.

"Careful what you wish for," she muttered to herself as she snapped a photo of the wall.

"That's it," came the response over text. "Stand clear."

There was a faint whine that quickly built into brief shriek as the fabric of reality was torn asunder. A warm breeze smelling of ozone and sulfur hit Emily as the new hole in the brick wall resolved into a portal, revealing a laboratory on the other side.

Lady Lacuna stepped through. She had somehow found time to change into one of her costumes, something between mad scientist and dominatrix.

"Emily," Lady Lacuna said neutrally.

"Sarah," Emily replied, equally neutral.

The thing about being married to a supervillain was that sometimes your wife associated with other supervillains. Being a former child superhero meant that sometimes you were acquainted with said villains. And sometimes, thanks to a highly unlikely string of coincidences, your childhood archnemesis ended up being your wife's best friend and maid of honor at your wedding.

Emily and Sarah's introduction at the engagement party had been awkward to say the least, but they agreed that Jen was worth setting aside their history and the wedding proceeded without incident.

And Emily was gradually forced to admit that there were benefits to knowing someone who had access to super tech and other gear that was off the books. A few months prior, Emily had gone to Lady Lacuna with a request… a just in case contingency for the exact situation she was now in. Lady Lacuna took on the project, no questions asked, as a favor to Jen.

Emily nodded to the case Lady Lacuna was holding.

"Is that it?"

Lady Lacuna's lips twitched into a smirk, and she set the case down.

"See for yourself," she replied. "I made a few modifications to the design… I couldn't help myself."

Emily rolled her eyes… supervillains and their flare…

She opened the case and beheld the costume inside with mixed thrill and trepidation. The last time she had done this, the costume had consisted of a dismembered sweatshirt (which was now lovingly enshrined in Jen's lair). The one in the case was super grade material, bullet-proof and hopefully lightning resistant. She pulled it out and heaved a sigh.

"Really?" she asked.

It was unmistakably the grown up version of the costume she had last worn at sixteen. The color scheme was dark and edgy, but splashed across the chest was that bright pink rendition of the cannonball logo that Jen had made the one time they had fought together.

"It's for Jen, isn't it?" Lady Lacuna said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Think of how delighted she'll be when Cannonball rolls in to save her wearing this."

The villain's expression clouded somewhat.

"Do you need help?" she asked.

Emily offered her a genuine smile. Lady Lacuna was a B-lister, borderline antihero, but taking on another villain was risky business, both from an optics standpoint and from a health and safety standpoint. It was definitely reassuring knowing that Sarah had Jen's back.

"I could probably use a getaway," Emily said reluctantly. "But that's it. The last thing I want is the spectacle of another Cannonball-supervillain team-up. I'll take care of Thundercloud, you just worry about getting Jen out safely… and try to be discreet about it."

Lady Lacuna nodded, but she had that glint in her eye.

Emily sighed again. "Discreet" wasn't exactly a word in supervillain vocabulary, she should have known that by now.

#my writing #ion & emily #supervillain oc #lesbian #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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woozyvee · 3 months ago

Text

domino effect

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: seungmin was right and now you are left with the pointed shards of your broken heart and nowhere to put them. unless he helps you make them disappear, which he refuses to do.

tags: best friend! seungmin x reader, magic au, unrequited love, confessions, romance, angst.

author's note: found this li'l thang in my forgotten drafts and decided to breathe some life into it. i like how it turned out, tee-hee!

The suffocating pressure in your chest is all you can really feel as your legs instinctively lead you in the direction of Seungmin's dorm. You can't even be bothered to apologize to the occasional peer you bump into on your way, ears practically deaf to the following curses thrown over stiff shoulders at you. Stone walls are harsh against your elbows when you graze them while turning corners, breathing shallow within the tightness of your rib cage.

Before you manage to realize that you've arrived, your knuckles already mash into the wood of Seungmin's door with three rough knocks.

"I'm busy," is the muffled response that slips through the crack by the threshold.

Anxiously you chew your lip, taut fist rising to knock again.

You don't need to hear the grunt to know it comes, buried by the sharp squeaks of Seungmin's bed as he presumably gets up from it, before the thuds of his feet grow louder as he approaches his door.

The annoyed glower upon his face softens when he sees who he is met with on the other side of it. "Oh. Hey," he greets, wide eyes looking you up and down, brows curling. "You okay?"

"I-" you choke, words stuck between the constricted walls of your throat. Nails dig crescents into your palms. "I talked to Hyunjin..."

Seungmin's expression drops.

"I told him, how I feel and-" It is as if your tongue swells, renders you unable to keep speaking. The sickening burn in your chest spreads upward and sizzles behind your eyes, forcing hot tears to squeeze out through the corners of them. It hurts when you swallow, lungs trembling.

Your friend can only sigh, hands reaching for you. "C'mere."

He embraces you in the opening of his doorway, tucks your head in the crook of his neck and lets you soak his robes with salty tears as you sob against him, slump into him. The obvious I told you so's are left unspoken but you hear them nonetheless, peeping hurtfully in your ear, making you cry harder.

"Here," he mutters. "Let's go inside."

Seungmin steps the two of you into his room, pushes his door shut with a heel and pulls you to his bed. The edge of it sinks as you sit down, Seungmin's arm firm around your shuddering shoulders. You sink against his side, weep into the rough fabric of his clothes some more.

Silence, broken only by your pained mewls and snivels, envelops the pair of you as Seungmin holds your agonized self close. He says nothing, does nothing until you stop shaking, stop wailing against him. The weight of you presses into him fully.

"You were right," you mumble, thick voice wavering. "I knew you were right, I knew he didn't feel the same. But why does it still hurt so bad?" A quivering hand of yours clutches over where your heart should be.

Seungmin's thumb rubs over your clothed arm.

"I- I shouldn't've told 'im. Shoulda just kept it to myself."

From where your head rests on Seungmin's shoulder you can feel him turning his face away from you, feel him sighing under you.

The fresh cracks in your heart chafe together, shoot pain through your torso. Your chin trembles.

Through the layer of unshed tears blurring your vision, your eyes trail around the comforting familiarity of Seungmin's room. The hamper full of knit sweaters, the collection of rare cards with notable warlocks, the photos he's taken of various animals hanging along a string against his wall, the tight row of worn books stuffed into his shelf, the dark curtains pulled shut before his long window, the jars of assorted ingredients strewn across his desk, the pair of-

You stiffen. Eye the spellbooks crowding his bookshelf, the potioneer's buffet laid out among forgotten homework on his table.

As you stand up Seungmin's arm falls from around you and you're sure he watches you approach his bookshelf to scrutinize it, to let an index finger graze the spines of the books inside it.

Seungmin has helped other people in situations like this, you're reminded. He has helped craft spells and brew potions for a fee. Helped peers fall in and out of love.

The next words you speak come easily, feel obvious. "Help me make the pain go away, Seungmin." A beat. "Make me one of those spells, that make your feelings go numb."

You turn around to face him, can physically feel the hope shining in your eyes.

Seungmin's expression is nothing short of appalled. "What?"

"Yes. I know you've done it. You helped Minho last year. Now you can help me."

"Wh- I-" Seungmin stands up, blinking to seemingly collect his thoughts as he firmly says your name. "I- You're hurting, okay? You- you aren't thinking clearly right now."

Your head jerks back, frown deep on your face. Offense squeezes around the already shattered mess that is your heart. "What- I- What do you mean? I know I'm hurting, that's the point. If you don't help me, it's gonna keep hurting."

Seungmin closes his eyes, takes a breath, meets you with a calmer tone. "Listen. If you want help with this, you should see a professional. I am not-"

"What, why would I pay two fortunes to see a professional when you're right here, have literally done this before?" you question, bewildered, frustrated. "I'll- I'll pay you double, okay? It'd still be a lot cheaper."

Seungmin licks the inside of his cheek, bites his lip. "I'm an amateur, okay? It's way too risky. If it doesn't work, be-"

"You've done it before, Seung-"

"If it doesn't work"—he cuts you off this time, stricter tone gluing your mouth shut—"best case is that nothing happens. Worst case, your emotional plane gets permanently ruined." He enunciates each word clearly, making sure you understand.

You swallow, willing yourself to stay firm under Seungmin's serious glare.

"Well, did that happen?" you counter.

Seungmin's eyes squint. "What?"

"Did it happen, any of the other times you've done this? Like with Minho?" Your arched eyebrows prod at your hairline.

The young man averts his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. "I won't do it," he asserts, unwavering.

What scorches the inside of your chest now is not heartache, you note. It's pure, unadulterated anger.

"Wha- Well, why in the hells not?!" You take a step in his direction, tighten the proximity between you, making his face turn further sideways to avoid your stormy scowl. Fresh tears of rage begin surfacing in the creases of your eyes. "You just don't understand, do you?! How all I want right now is to rip my heart out and throw it straight out the window!"

Your friend's eyes meet your own, something dark and grim swirling around in their depths now. "I do too understand."

A scoff. "Clearly, you do not, Seungmin. Because if you knew how I'm feeling right now, if you had any idea how much my entire body hurts so much I-"

Seungmin's lips press into your own, effectively making you swallow the rest of your sentence, his warm palms solid on either side of your face.

Your entire form stiffens, along with the battered muscle tucked inside your rib cage, eyes wide open.

He's kissing you. His soft lips are moving decidedly against yours, his firm hold on your face is turning gentler, his hot breath is fanning the flushed skin of your cheek and he's kissing you.

When your nerves tingle, you realize you should do something. Pull away? Push him off? Kiss him ba-

Seungmin rips himself off you, leaving a chill in the wake of his retracting hands, shooting your fluttering eyelids back open. "Fuck," he mutters around an apology, backs away until he reaches his bed, slumps atop it with his elbows on his knees, heavy head hanging forward.

All you are reduced to is a quivering statue, a lonely tear of a passed fury rolling slowly down your cheek. Something fat plugs your throat, keeps any words from climbing to the surface.

"I can't do it," he reaffirms, voice breathy with bitterness. "Not to you."

He says no more, not lifting his head to look at you. Neither do you, incapable of forming any coherent thoughts within in the frenzied turmoil that is your mind. Only the lingering warmth of his mouth on yours is what you comprehend.

Something uncomfortable, jittery and intense, shivers its way up from your feet to your head, forces you into action. Panicked strides bring you to Seungmin's door, sweat-slick hand quickly pulling it open and then shut when you're safely on the other side. You keep walking, far away from what up until mere seconds ago was your safe haven, the only current destination in your mind being away.

You don't know what this tingling feeling running through your fingertips is. All you do know is that you can't feel your heartbreak anymore due to it having been completely buried by guilt. Nauseating, numbing, merciless guilt. As what was once ignorance has been replaced with cognizance.

Seungmin does understand how you feel. Because he feels it too.

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