#and he feels so guilty because HE'S the one who brought you to the stupid party anyway

[saintzweig]

poly boyfriends!artrick x reader headcanons

– THANK YOU FOR 500!! ily guys thank you for your support, i appreciate every single one of you truly 🥹 this is pretty simple, just fluff and domesticity. barely proofread because i'm me :p also feedback (on all my works) is appreciated so please feel free

ꢾ꣒ everyone knew that patrick and art were best friends, they were always together. tennis matches, classes, parties, you name it. it was nearly impossible for them to be apart for longer than an hour.

ꢾ꣒ but nobody knew they were together together. behind closed doors, hands were all over each other and lips locked. soft 'i love you's' whispered into each other's ears.

ꢾ꣒ patrick didn't care about people knowing but his partner did, it was something art wasn't ready for and he respected that.

ꢾ꣒ when patrick left for tour, art had a hard time adjusting. he didn't really have any friends aside from his boyfriend and tashi, who was always busy with tennis.

ꢾ꣒ so patrick encouraged him to join extracurriculars aside from the tennis team, convincing him that it would help broaden his network and all that stuff.

ꢾ꣒ that's how art ended up at your baking club, he didn't know how to bake but it was either this or the robotics club. you assured him that that's okay, he's here to learn anyways.

ꢾ꣒ it was you, him and a few more people that would meet up atleast twice a month at the assigned members' house. not his, seeing as he lived in the dorms.

ꢾ꣒ you were patient with him which he appreciated, you didn't make him feel dumb for struggling to follow even the simplest instructions neither did you make him feel out of place for being a man learning how to bake. (it was the 2000s, ok)

ꢾ꣒ one night, he dreamt about you in a way that made his heart race until he woke up. he was in a mood for the entire day after that, feeling so guilty because you were his friend and well, he has a boyfriend.

ꢾ꣒ he talked to patrick about it, not wanting to keep anything from him but he was surprised to hear his boyfriend be so casual about it. "it's fine, it was just a dream, it'll pass. plus you're allowed to find other people attractive."

ꢾ꣒ and art hoped it would pass, until it had been two months since and all it did was grew. into a real, stupid crush on you. he couldn't help the way his cheeks grew red or the way his heart skipped a beat whenever you would come near him during your club meetings.

ꢾ꣒ when patrick came back from tour, art couldn't stop himself from tearing up out of guilt. clutching the latter's shirt tightly and furiously apologizing for feeling this way.

ꢾ꣒ that's when they opened up the conversation about the possibility of art being polyamorous.

ꢾ꣒ the next club meeting, which was held at yours again, art brought patrick with him. and when patrick saw you, he understood almost immediately why art was so into you.

ꢾ꣒ despite your disheveled hair, dirty apron and streaks of flour on your cheek, you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. even surpassing his previous crush on tashi duncan.

ꢾ꣒ when art saw his reaction, he felt a burn in his chest. not out of jealousy but rather at the idea of extending their love to you, if you accepted.

ꢾ꣒ you and art decided to bake a cake together while patrick spectated, he's not to be trusted in the kitchen (they learned that the hard way)

ꢾ꣒ art stood on your right while patrick on the other, you were in the middle of them whisking the cake mix.

ꢾ꣒ patrick dipped a finger into the mixture before placing it into his mouth, causing art to softly glare at him for his lack of manners but the look was disregarded.

ꢾ꣒ "so... has my boyfriend been a good club member?"

ꢾ꣒ you couldn't help the way your breath hitched, glancing between the two of them with wide eyes. "boyfriend?"

ꢾ꣒ "aw, you don't talk about me, artie?"

ꢾ꣒ you stood there silently as embarrassment creeped all over your body. you had this idea that maybe art was single and into you, but now his boyfriend was right there, telling you all about their relationship.

ꢾ꣒ patrick immediately clocked your reaction, grinning down at you. "you like him, don't you?"

ꢾ꣒ you swear you nearly died from choking on your own saliva.

ꢾ꣒ "don't worry, sweetheart. he likes you too, a lot"

ꢾ꣒ things escalated quite quickly from then on, the three of you spending most days together at your house or on the tennis court, art walking you to your classes almost everyday and going out whenever patrick is home from tour.

ꢾ꣒ art slept over a lot at yours, his arm tucked under your head and the other draping around your waist while your laptop was on your bedside table, camera on and patrick sleeping on the screen.

ꢾ꣒ it was a little hard to navigate because you made sure to tread carefully as to not leave anyone out but for the most part, it was comfortable and sweet.

ꢾ꣒ patrick was loud and outgoing, art was more introverted and gentle while you were the one that kept the balance between their somehow similar yet contrasting personalities.

ꢾ꣒ you kept patrick in line and helped art learn how to put himself first.

ꢾ꣒ everyone thought that you were dating only one of them, which was fair seeing as how they saw you the most with art

ꢾ꣒ you didn't mind, although it was a little disheartening because you wanted people to know that patrick was your boyfriend too.

ꢾ꣒ and because no one knew patrick was in a relationship, he had a lot of people coming up to him and asking him out.

ꢾ꣒ art had enough one day when the two of you overheard a group of friends objectifying talking about patrick.

ꢾ꣒ when patrick walked up to the two of you before his game, their conversation only got more loud and obnoxious in hopes to catch his attention and art couldn't stop himself from pulling the brunette in for a very passionate kiss. "you're cute when you're jealous, donaldson"

ꢾ꣒ patrick played the entire game with a smirk on his face while art had his head nuzzled into your neck in embarrassment, "why did i do that?"

ꢾ꣒ after graduating university, art joined patrick in going pro, often travelling together.

ꢾ꣒ you opened a small baking business that you would often operate inside your shared apartment until you've saved up enough to rent a place for a small bakery.

ꢾ꣒ when the two boys are home, art, being the sweet boy he is, would help you with orders while patrick is in charge of choosing a movie and what to get for takeout.

ꢾ꣒ although patrick gets bored pretty easily especially when you two were taking long in the kitchen, he'd sneak in and try to distract the two of you. snaking his arms around your waist and trail kisses down from your jaw to your neck.

ꢾ꣒ of course he doesn't want art to feel left out so he'd remove one arm around your waist to reach over and squeeze art's behind, earning him a handful of flour thrown onto his pretty face.

ꢾ꣒ it's a little unconventional sure, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

[heich0e]

au in which touya ends up having to watch natsuo put his hands all over you because you took something offered to you at a sketchy warehouse party that has you panting and whimpering and burning up and his own hot hands can't provide you any comfort but his little brother's cool-quirked touch can

[benjinotes]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - prologue

next.

( benjicot blackwood x daella velaryon )

don’t translate.

Rain pattered against the window of the young princess' chambers, its steady rhythm echoing Daella's growing unease. Seated by the fireplace, the warmth of the flames should have comforted her, yet her mind remained unsettled, thoughts swirling like the storm outside.

The book on her lap had been forgotten for quite some time; the only indication of its existence was her index finger absentmindedly massaging its leather spine.

The crackle of burning logs mingled with the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain outside, creating a slightly foreboding symphony. Daella's gaze shifted from the flames to the window, where raindrops raced across the pane. The Dragonstone Castle, usually bustling with life, now rested eerily quiet under the veil of night.

Suddenly, a strange noise caught her attention. Observing from afar, she saw a crow perched in the window, its black feathers glistening in the occasional flash of lightning. The bird watched her with intelligent, penetrating eyes, as if carrying an unknown omen.

However, what caught her attention the most was the red beak that the bird had, which seemed to stand out against its black features and, for some reason, brought her comfort.

Deep down, she knew that this was the maximum comfort she could get at that moment and for the next few days, since her mother's throne had just been usurped and her brothers had gone in search of allies to fight in a war that was to come.

Remembering that Jacaerys and Lucerys were alone out there in search of allies made Daella's heart come to her throat and made her feel a little guilty for not having followed them in search of more support for reclaiming the throne. Yet she couldn't go, not when her combat skills were almost nonexistent and not when Rhaenyra was mourning Visenya, who had died during birth.

To say Daella was her mother's shadow was an understatement. The princess was like her mother's shadow from the day she was born, following in her footsteps in almost every aspect of life. The connection between them was so deep that Daella seemed to reflect her mother's essence and values in almost everything she did.

She would do anything for her mother, and that's why she decided to stay to help her, because in addition to loving her unconditionally, she knew her; she knew that Rhaenyra was suffering, and she knew that sometimes she was too proud to admit it. That was one of the things they had in common.

"Princess Daella?!" A man's deep voice woke her from her thoughts, and she jumped a little, startled by the sudden noise that came from behind the oak door. "Princess, are you there?" The man asked again, and she recognized it as Sir Duman's voice, one of her mother's most faithful guards.

Regained her composure, Daella took a deep breath, and hurried to the door of her chambers, both worried and curious about the late-night interruption.

The first thing she saw when she opened the letter was Sir Duman's worried face. The flickering torchlight in the hallway cast shadows across his features, highlighting the urgency in his eyes.

Lifting her chin and stretching her back, Daella couldn't help but feel worry wash over her, but still, her voice didn't waver as she began to speak. "Yes, Sir Duman, I'm here. What happened?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

The old man's expression returned to normal, and the girl couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when she noticed his expression soften.

That meant he didn't bring bad news, right?

"Queen Rhaenyra is waiting for you in the great hall, my princess; she wishes to speak with you." Sir. Duman began, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the castle. "A raven has arrived with news." At those words, the Velaryom girl furrowed her eyebrows in question, curiosity falling over her once again.

"Oh." Daella said, and she bit her tongue when she realized her short and stupid answer. "Then let's go; we can't keep our grace waiting." At Daella's words, the man nodded and waited for the princess to lead the way, giving a small bow when she passed in front of him.

Even as she tried to maintain a confident posture while making her way towards the great hall, the Velaryon girl couldn't help but let some of her other concerns creep back into her mind, and the speculations of what could have happened seized her brain in such a ravenous way that she felt like she might vomit at any moment.

The queen had never summoned her at such a late hour, so the matter must be urgent.

Upon arriving at the great hall, Daella carefully opened the door, finding her mother and stepfather, Deamon, standing in front of the stone table. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice her presence there.

"Your grace." The princess spoke in a loud voice, hearing the wooden door behind her slam as she spoke. "Did you request my presence?" The girl said that, although it came out more as a questioning tone, she couldn't help but smile when she noticed her mother's violet eyes looking at her with so much love.

Without hesitation, Rhaenyra approached her daughter, a smile on her face but a tired look that made Daella's heart sink. Losing Viserys had been difficult for her mother, but losing Visenya had caused her mother heartbreak that she had never felt before.

She knew she probably couldn't endure a loss like that as well as her mother did, which only deepened her admiration for her.

"My sweet girl." The queen greeted her sweetly, and Daella couldn't help but let her smile widen when she realized that she wanted to have a conversation as a mother and not as a queen.

"Yes, māzma?" Daella questioned with curiosity shining in her eyes and got a little closer to her mother, managing to get a clearer view of her stepfather, who was currently reading a letter with an annoyed expression. The coat of arms of House Blackwood was visible on the envelope he had in his another hand. (mom)

Rhaenyra sighed softly, and when the princess saw her exchanging meaningful glances with Daemon, their eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You know we sent letters to some noble houses seeking support for the war, right?" The queen asked rhetorically and gave another sigh when she saw her daughter nodding her head hesitantly.

Daemon got a little closer to them.

For some reason, Daella's heart began to beat heavily, and she couldn't help but bite her lip, anxious for the next words the white-haired woman was going to say to her.

"The good news is that most houses have decided to join us." Daemon spoke up for the first time, sensing his wife's hesitation in bringing up the subject. He just wanted to finish this conversation.

"But?" Daella asked when she noticed the hesitation and the hesitant exchange of glances. Her head was racing. They should be happy to have such strong allies, but yet they seemed worried, and the fact that none of them told her what was happening was starting to make her upset.

"The Blackwoods have agreed to support our cause." This time, Rhaenyra spoke and placed a hand on her belly. "But they have one condition." The woman's words faded off, and Daella turned to her stepfather for an explanation.

Daemon moved a little closer and looked at his wife for permission before speaking. "They want a marriage alliance between you and Benjicot Blackwood." He explained carefully, and the princess looked at the two in shock.

The revelation hit Daella like a wave, causing her to step back in shock. She had always known a political marriage was inevitable, but now that the reality had dawned on her, she felt dazed and even a bit unwell.

"What? Why?" She asked, distressed, her heart pounding and her hands sweating as she walked backward down the hall. Rhaenyra glanced at her worried daughter before turning back to her husband and giving him a nod.

Daemon massaged his forehead, starting to get irritated. "House Bracken and House Blackwood have always been at odds." The man began to explain and once again looked at his wife for permission to continue. "Upon discovering that the Branckens were our allies, Lord Blackwood made the marriage request in exchange for his troops and services." He finished, and the princess couldn't help but give a disbelieving nasal laugh, her hand out of a simple rivalry. It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

Noticing Daella's expression, Rhaenyra approached her daughter again, this time more carefully. "I know it's a lot to process. But it's your decision; if you don't want to get married, Daemon and I will refuse the proposal." She said, while putting her hand on Daella's face, who bit her lower lip.

She harbored an intense desire to express her refusal, to vocalize her frustration, but remained unable to do so, aware of the imminent threat of war, the critical need for allies, and her support for her mother and brothers during the approaching storm.

"The House Blackwood is important?" Daella asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, and the two adults in the room exchanged a solemn nod. Too much important.

"It's better to have them on our side than on the opposite side." Her stepfather reacted with an impatient gaze, and she couldn't help but sighed.

"I understand, I will do it." Daella said quietly, her voice steady as she accepted the reality before her, and with a deep breath, she straightened her posture.

There was no turning back now.

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged glances, a mixture of pride and concern evident in their eyes, knowing the weight of the sacrifice that the only daughter of the heir to the Iron Throne was making at this moment.

"I'm immensely proud of you, thank you." The queen whispered, planting a tender kiss on her daughter's cheek. The princess visibly softened, reassured by her mother's affectionate gesture amidst the swirling emotions.

"I will promptly dispatch a raven to Lord Blackwood." Damon interrupted , his tone brooking no delay, and Rhaenyra shot him a stern look at his brusqueness, while Daella sighed anxiously in silent agreement beside them.

She was doing this for her mother.

— i don't know how to feel about this, but i hope you like it. <3 normally my chapters tend to be bigger, but as this is just the prologue i decided to make it smaller, and this is my first hotd storie so i'm kinda scared.

— benji soon, promise. 😔

ALSO: please make me requests for: reader x character.

wattpad.

tag: @marytvirgin

[moyazaika]

omg doe brought up this AMAZINGGG idea abt the crime lord yan and his lawyer darling hello hey hi!!!!!!

this kinda got away from me because it is 3am but i nEEEEEDED to get this out bjsjsjjs i blame @carnivorousyandeere

i know i wrote the initial dynamic for his darling to be his lawyer, in that they’re on his side in court to keep him from getting sent to prison BUT BUT BUT hear me out T_T

lawyer darling who put yan kingpin away.

as in ,, you are the reason he was found guilty. you are the one, when the judge announced the final verdict, that his gaze turned to and that he smiled for, then. sentenced to death, before it was appealed to multiple life sentences; the beginning of the end of his empire.

you, you, you — the cause of his downfall.

after the infamous internationally documented case, your career soars to unprecedented heights. you’re the lawyer on every newspaper in every country, all the tv channels and glossy magazines. every law school wants you to speak at their graduation ceremonies. every firm’s reaching out to you. the whole world knows your name; you have everything!

—so why do you keep going back to the man who now has nothing?

the kingpin looks the same as he did that fateful day in court. only now, there’s bags under his eyes, and a five o clock shadow on his jaw; lips still curled in an easygoing smile. he laughs when he sees you, as if the two of you were merely old friends who hadn’t caught up in a while.

as if you’re not visiting him years later in the city’s most high security prison.

he grins. “come to gloat, have ‘ya?”

“you’ve committed countless crimes.” you state. “stolen lives and livelihoods. broken up families. killed good men. and still, all these years later, no remorse?”

“don’t get ‘yer panties in a twist,” he huffs, lazily leans back in the rickety prison chair so that he’s swinging it back and forth on its back legs, like a child. how absurd that even the garish orange uniform of a prison should suit him, “comes with the job description, don’t it?”

“i think about you,” you admit, eyeing the chains that bind his handcuffed hands to the desk in front of him. you look up, meet his gaze through the thick, dirty pane that separates you from him. keeps you safe. out of his reach, if only just.

a low whistle. “you sure know how to make a man feel special, y’know. been followin’ your cases. never put another one like me away, did ‘ya?” he grins. “i like that i’m special. makes me feel all warm ‘nd fuzzy inside.”

“wow,” you let out. “you really have gone insane.”

“always been a ‘lil crazy! like i said, part of the job description. though i’ve been thinkin’ recently,” he starts.

your fascination prompts you to lean closer. a sort of morbid curiosity that yearns to solve the puzzle of his twisted mind, slot the pieces you’ve already got in a way that makes them fit. you’ve got this weird feeling that you’re missing something. a big piece, maybe. one of the central ones.

“thinking about what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost conspiratorial. he leans in, too, all wide eyes—

—and then he jerks forward with the chains around the cuffs on his wrists pulled taut as he suddenly yanks them all the way, like a feral dog pulling on its leash. he looks like one, too, with that glint in his eyes.

“fuck!”

you barely even register that you’re on the floor until he laughs, low in his throat. he makes a vague gesture to your chair, toppled over on its side.

“oops.” he says, coyly. “didn’t mean to scare ‘ya.”

“liar,” you hiss, standing up to dust yourself off. this was stupid. why would you even entertain the idea of a civil conversation with a madman?

he gasps dramatically. “this is slander, your honour!”

“i’m leaving,” you scoff. “i don’t even know why i even came down here. you’re clearly fucking crazy.”

“and you’re no fun!” he pouts. “how ‘bout you stay just a little longer and i’ll make it worth ‘yer time, pretty please?”

“no can do,” you turn on your heels and reach for the door, fingers curled around the handle as you spare him one final glance over your shoulder— “have fun rotting in here for the rest of your life, psycho.”

—except the door won’t open. you try again, and again once more. the handle won’t budge. an awful sense of urgency overcomes you as you desperately shake the handle in a futile attempt to get it to just—

“funny ‘yer calling me crazy, ‘cus einstein once said real insanity is doin’ the same thing,” he beams. “over and over and over and over again, and expecting different results. door’s locked, lovely. ‘yer not getting out from there, ‘m afraid.”

you turn back then, still holding onto that door like a lifeline. he’s standing up, rubbing sore wrists that are, you realise with a sinking feeling, no longer bound by the handcuffs that kept him chained; on a short leash, like a good dog.

“what are you doing…?” your voice shakes, and it’s a far cry to the headstrong, unwavering lawyer who put the world’s most notorious criminal behind bars. “what the fuck—”

“i told you i’d make it worth your while t’stay,” he rolls up his sleeves, before pushing all of his hair (longer and greasier than the last you saw him) out of his face, features set in a determination you’ve never glimpsed before. familiar eyes twinkle with mischief. “and i meant it, y’know. the world’s very best lawyer came so far to see me! least i can do is greet ‘em properly.”

“‘cus see, the other prisoners wouldn’t be so nice. but i’ve been thinkin’ about you too.” he pulls his arm back and his fist comes flying at the pane. “don’t wanna have a conversation or nothin’ like that, nah, we talked enough.”

“you’ve been thinking about me, i’ve been waiting around for you…” bloody knuckles against cracks in the one barrier that is keeping you safe from him. you watch, helpless, as it threatens to break beneath the brute force of his trained fists.

“now let me just come over there,” he pulls his arm back again, ready to strike; knuckles raw and red, like the maniacal grin carved onto his pretty, flushed face. a deep blush and a shaky smile as those fists bring it all crashing down. “and show you how much i missed my faaavourite lawyer in the whole wide world.”

“—that be a good enough reason to stick around?” he asks slyly, before catching himself. “oh, silly me.” he shakes his head, apologetically, as he steps over broken shards on the floor, tainted with his blood. “doesn’t matter what ‘ya say.” a low hum when scarred hands reach out for you. “i waited so long for you…”

“… so, let’s make up reaaalllll good for all that lost time, okay?”

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

[admiringlove]

[16:45] . . .

you always tended to forget your umbrella. gojo had noticed that about you long ago.

you, someone who remembered everything about everyone, often forgot things about yourself. you were indecisive—laughably so, at that. every time you went to the local convenience store, it took you ages to choose something to eat or drink. it frustrated him. he was always irritated by how caring you were. there had to be some kind of ulterior motive beneath all that sweetness, right?

he recalled how you were often left stranded after class, sitting on the cold stone floor, waiting for the rain to pass. of course, he’d tease you. he didn’t care if you got soaked; he was the best, after all. he was gojo satoru, the one and only, so he didn’t have time to worry about trivial things, like whether a classmate would be left behind in the rain.

day after day, he’d walk away, taunting you as he waved goodbye. it was amusing, watching you sit there, mopey and upset. he’d laugh and point, pretending to be annoyed, even though you’d bought him cola earlier that day. it felt great to giggle as he left you behind, knowing you’d sit on the floor until the rain stopped.

it was fun, not caring.

it was fun until he started carrying an umbrella just because he felt guilty for laughing at you. he remembered that moment vividly—it made his blood boil. he’d stood there, holding out a clear umbrella above your head. you’d looked up at him, blinking innocently as you asked, “seriously? you brought me an umbrella?”

“just shut up and take it,” he had gritted his teeth.

from that day on, he made sure to always have one. that stupid, filthy, clear umbrella became a part of his routine, held over your head as you prepared to sit on the cold stone floor.

“why do you do this?” you asked one day, tilting your head as if you were both innocent and all-knowing. tsk, he thought, rolling his eyes at your obliviousness. what an absolute idiot.

“i don’t know. maybe i just like doing nice things for poor people,” he retorted.

that’s how your friendship had started. seamlessly, you slipped into the routine that included him, geto, and shoko. suddenly, you were part of their plans to go to kfc or grab ice cream. you were there when gojo wanted to shoot hoops with them, always in the background, ready to chime in whenever he teased nanami about something, quick to point out that he was being a rude git.

he hated you—or at least, that’s what he told himself. he hated how nice you were, how you always sought out ways to keep everyone happy. it made his skin prick with irritation. there was something about you that constantly ticked him off. why did you insist on buying him cola from the vending machine, knowing he’d only drink half the can before tossing the rest? why did you always go to the cashier with geto at kfc? why did you feel the need to help him with everything? couldn’t you see that you weren’t as strong as he was? or were you just dense?

“tell me something,” you’d once asked, rain drumming against the umbrella he held over your head. you walked by his side, swinging your arms like a carefree child while gojo found himself trapped in this small act of kindness. geto had already gone home, and he figured shoko was off buying cigarettes, leaving him stuck in the downpour with you. “why did you start being nice to me all of a sudden one day?”

“what do you mean?” he replied, narrowing his eyes at you. your gaze met his, an unspoken understanding passing between you. you knew he understood your question; he just didn’t want to answer it. but you pried anyway, because that’s just who you were. “i mean the way you randomly started bringing me an umbrella every day, even though you don’t need it. the way you drag me along to get fried chicken. and how you don’t say anything when i call you an asshole for teasing nanami about his hair.”

gojo sighed, caught off guard. for the first time in his life, he didn’t know how to answer a question. or maybe, deep down, he knew the answer, but the thought terrified him. he didn’t want to let those feelings out from their hidden corner of his mind.

“i don’t know. i just felt bad, i guess,” he mumbled, glancing away. he could tell you were dissatisfied with his response, but he chose silence instead. after all, he was the greatest. he couldn’t let his guard down, could he?

it irked him how intuitive you were. you read him like an open book, every single damn time. whether he was hungry, sad, or just generally irritated—which was usually the case—you always seemed to have the perfect solution. somehow, you’d have a snack handy for whenever gojo felt the gnawing hunger creep in. you’d crack a joke just when he felt like shit, and you always knew the right thing to say to get him all riled up.

like he’d said before, it was fun. until it wasn’t.

because one day, he was carrying an umbrella over your head. and the next, he was yelling at you for following geto out of the institute like a fucking sheep.

"how can you just leave me like that?" he yells, eyes wide and chest heaving. the rain pours down around him, but he doesn’t hold an umbrella for you. not anymore. he lets the rain envelop you, watching as the water trickles down to the tips of your fingers and toes, almost hoping it makes you sick. "how dare you and geto just walk away from my life as if nothing ever happened?!"

"nothing ever happened, satoru," you mumbled, "why do you think i left? it's because nothing ever happened."

"no!" he'd retorted, "you left because you're a fucking coward! you can't face your feelings, so you hide behind geto's stupid ideology that only sorcerers can exist. are you really telling me you're that disillusioned that you actually believe in him?"

"you could do it, couldn’t you? if you wanted?" you asked, your voice cracking under the weight of unspoken feelings. he paused for a moment, breath catching in his throat. geto had said the same exact thing, and it hit him like a brick.

“i don’t care about that!” he shot back, desperation lacing his tone. “come back. let me fix things-”

“there’s nothing to fix, satoru!” you yelled now, your voice piercing through the relentless downpour. the rain lashed against you, a cold, unforgiving torrent that blurred the world around you. droplets cascaded down your face, tracing a path along your skin, pooling beneath your chin before plummeting to the ground. each drop felt like a whispered goodbye, a farewell that mingled with the earth below—a reminder of all the moments lost between you. “there was nothing there anyway! what are you going to fix?”

as the rain soaked through your clothes, it clung to you like the memories that haunted both of you. it dripped from the tips of your hair, creating tiny rivers that carved a path down your neck and into the fabric of your shirt. each droplet seemed to echo your heartache, amplifying the silence between you, drowning out the possibility of what could have been.

he snaps back to reality when he realizes it's started to rain. standing on the same cold stone ground where you used to sit, he watches as the droplets hit the earth, relentless and unforgiving. each drop falls like a bitter reminder of that day—the day he said goodbye to you for the last time, a farewell shrouded in unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

“shit,” he whispers, glancing down at the umbrella in his hand.

the irony isn’t lost on him. even now, he finds himself carrying this clear, flimsy shield; a remnant of your influence in his life. it’s absurd, really. how you were now an enemy. how geto was gone and how truly alone he felt. but yet, he found himself standing here like an idiot. an absolute fool—something he used to think you were for being so kind to everyone for no reason at all.

he still hated you. now, more than ever. he knew, deep down, that you probably still forgot your umbrella, wherever you were. perhaps a part of him longed to see you sitting on this cold ground again, a familiar sight that felt so distant now. he wished he could hold out that clear piece of plastic for you once more, just as he had done countless times before. he could almost hear your silly questions echoing in his mind, the way you’d gently prod him to talk about his feelings, pushing him to confront what he often ignored. and somewhere in his memory, he could almost hear you say something sappy like, "try becoming a better person, satoru."

he scoffed at the thought. had he really become better? he liked to think so. after all, he was still the greatest. but as he stood there, soaked in the rain, doubts crept in like a chill. was he really all that great if, at his core, he was just a failed, lonely, and unhappy man?

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Hi! so im obviously freaking out over Lewis winning his home race and i wanted to ask if you could make a one shot where y/n and lewis have been secretly together for a while but the public isn’t aware because she doesn’t really want to be in the public eye but she’s in the garage during the race and he kisses her when he wins after hugging his team

Angsty!! if y’all’s want a part two there will be one :)

If someone predicted that you’d be dating a formula one driver you’d laugh in their face and if they continued to tell you that it would be none other then Sir Lewis Hamilton you’d probably smack them in the head for being so cruel to you.

Well the funny thing is that you’d actually end up being a with a formula one driver who is none other than

Sir Lewis Hamilton.

Life had the perfect plans for you.

It was funny really how you two met.

It was a quiet night out in the outskirts of london just having been ditched from your old best friend and being forced to walk in the cold rain it’s safe to say you were not pleased in the slightest.

Feet trembling body shaking and hair wet which had you feeling like a drowned rat, you’d decided to be reckless and stupid and just walk home not knowing how it where home really was to you it seemed like the beginning of a murder mystery.

Not all hope was lost though that night way have started shitty but ended up with you finding your way to Lewis. His car had decided to make his life a little bit more difficult and had nudged you into the ground.

What started out as just making sure you were okay due to him feeling guilty ended up being a hidden relationship. your secret moments in crowded rooms they had no idea about you and him.

There was always an indentation in the shape of him, he made a mark on you a golden tattoo.

Never had you ever thought that you would have been in a hidden relationship with Lewis Hamilton.

Fate had never been on your side especially in your love life. Having endured both emotionally and physically abusive relationships you were at your wits end with men. But Lewis was different, everything he did for you was filled with so much love thought and care more than you were ever given in your life.

He knew all your favorite books he knew all your favorite movies flowers destinations.

On multiple occasions he had ended up showing up with flowers at your door simply because he wanted too. Maybe your luck truly had changed when he walked into your life.

You knew how talented Lewis was purely based on his impressive ability throughout the years. You were always yearning to see it live though.

It was a year into your hidden relationship when you had first brought up the idea of coming to a race with Lewis and he had quickly dismissed the idea saying that the fans wouldn’t be nice and he loved the little bubble the two of you were in.

You really hadn’t thought much into what he had said brushing it off as Lewis wanting to protect you more than anything.

You just booked the flight without a thought in the world simply wanting to be there and see your man in his absolute best.

It was nagging in the back of your mind as you knew Lewis wasn’t one for a public relationship but you really wanted to show the world that Lewis Hamilton had finally settled down.

In a haste decision you packed up all your bags and decided to show up at the Silverstone Grand Prix.

Just something about finally pulling this off made you feel giddy on the inside.

Silly you, little did you know that you were jumping headfirst towards the eye of the tornado brewing ahead.

Now, many would find Lewis being a level head person someone who had finally calmed down and not as fiercely competitive as they used to be. In reality he was further from that. Mercedes really were horrible this year, Lewis hadn’t won in over a year.

A win in silverstone prior to leaving Mercedes would have just been legendary. Out of a fairy tale.

Things were not looking too good and that must have played heavily into Lewis’s mind and made him react the way he did when he saw you all smiles and giggles hands over his eyes waiting for him in his drivers room.

Any normal person would have been surprised and thrilled to see what they called their love of their life wanting for them in their room.

No one honestly knew what snapped in Lewis.

It was the added pressure of seeing his favorite person seeing him fail.

Lewis had a routine. Horrible race - Interviews- Anger- Meditation- Your time.

But you showing up had ruined that routine and had lead to Lewis’s snapping.

When you first saw his blank face you just thought that he was taking time to register the fact that you were right there with him. it wasn’t.

Something blazed in his eyes and it wasn’t love or the dark desire he normally had.

It was anger.

He’d snapped at you harsh and cruel.

Lewis muttered words that he would have never dreamed of saying to you.

Something along the lines of

“you know I am under immense pressure ”

“why couldn’t you have just listened to me and stay put. ”

“This is fucking stupid why are you so inconsiderate.”

“I already have enough to deal with I can’t be there to coddle you when the fans get to you y/n.”

“so fucking sensitive why are you crying now?”

“I can’t deal with you being here let alone the media seeing you? I didn’t need you here to ruin everything”

“it’s my home Grand Prix I need to focus on the fans and not you”

Those words broke the already broken parts of you. He didn’t recognize how shattered you looked. All he registered was that you had gone against his word and had showed up. He hurt you even when he told you no he begged you he wouldn’t.

That’s how he had left you alone in his drivers room hurt and embarrassed the mechanics had picked up on the tension in his room and had just given you a sad smile offering to take you back to your hotel room so that you could have some time off.

Now on Lewis’s side this anger and storm he had just started would force him to drive the best race of his life almost for redemption of his poor behavior.

[writersblockiskillingme]

hiiii here’s my request idea 🫶🏽 after getting sent to district 12 coriolanus meets fem!reader (who’s a part of the covey) he thought he was in love with lucy gray but ends up falling for reader way more intensely than he did for lucy gray but reader feels guilty because lucy gray seems to really like him and she doesn’t want to betray her

Another Love | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader (Covey!reader)

Summary: He loved her from a moment he saw her, but she can't love him back.

Warning/s: angst, heartbreak, forbidden love, two or three curse words, tears, possessive Coriolanus, reader's abusive ex, ex touching the reader without permission (nothing graphic, he just grabs reader's arm), no happy ending, grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I used some of the lyrics of Taylor Swift's King of My Heart as a song that "reader wrote for Coryo" and I skipped one part of the main song that I used because I felt like it wouldn't fit the timeline. So, this one's been a long time coming, but I hope you enjoy!

(Y/N) - your name

(Y/H/C) - your hair color

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care

But it's so cold and I don't know where

I brought you daffodils in a pretty string

But they won't flower like they did last spring

Coriolanus Snow felt his nerves getting the best of him. He felt shivers going down his spine as Lucy Gray and him got closer and closer to their destination.

He was supposed to meet the rest of the Covey, her family, today. Lucy Gray held his hand tightly, squeezing it a bit more as she noticed just how nervous he truly seemed to be.

It didn't comfort him much.

Not her hand in his, it felt too small now. Nor her presence next to him. It didn't excite him as much as it did once. Yet he loved her, right?

Right?

As they finally got to the lake the lake he noticed a group of people sitting by the edge of the lake.

He could practically feel the excitement radiating off of Lucy Gray as he noticed one of them turned around noticing them and taping the ones close to gain their attention to the arrivals, too.

Lucy Gray didn't let go of him as she eagerly introduced him to evey single member of her family, the Covey.

That day Coriolanus met little Maude Ivory, Barb Azure, Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine Clade.

"And finally my big cousin, (Y/N) Baird." Lucy Gray smiled and when you looked up Coriolanus could've sworn that his heart stopped.

Your beauty was truly unmatched, your kind smile so radiant so infection that he was willing to die because of it any day you wished. Your hair was graciously flowing around in the wind just like your light summer dress. Your posture, your face. But once you spoke he knew that he was a gonner.

"Nice to meet you, Coriolanus Snow." Your voice was as kind as your eyes, it matched you perfectly.

Later on, he saw you sitting under the tree, away from the sun, away from the rest of your family.

Coriolanus felt truly, utterly, stupid for a bit as he stood a few feet away from Lucy Gray's, obviously favorite, cousin as he held a young, brightly yellow, daffodil that he found by the edge of the forest, not that far away from the lake where the rest of the Covey were.

He didn't know why did he do it. He didn't know why would he pick a flower and give it to you. He just figured that the flower was pretty (just like you were) and that you will probably like it.

But deep down he knew, but just yet wouldn't admit it to himself.

"For you."

You looked up, your eyes meeting with gorgeous blue ones as he held out a gorgeous daffodil to you. You couldn't help but to laugh out loud at the irony that consumed you.

Coriolanus watched you laugh, he never heard a sound as angelic as this, not even when he heard Lucy Gray sing.

He hated himself for it. He hated himself for wanting to bottle up that angelic laugh and keep it for himself, to protect it, to own it. But he couldn't help but to wonder why are you laughing.

"What's funny if I may ask?" He gently asked, afraid that you were laughing at him, finding his stupidity oh so amazing. He was scared of rejection, but why?

He's with Lucy Gray.

"It's just-" Your laughter turned into a giggle, Coriolanus felt blood suddenly rushing into his cheeks as he heard the sound that you were making, because of him.

"Daffodils are my favorite flowers, it's a little funny that you picked a random flower and guessed this."

Coriolanus couldn't help himself. He found himself laughing too as he sat down and got to know you.

The day passed quickly, probably because he spent it with you. So as he stepped away from you after saying goodbye and as he slipped his hand into Lucy Gray's hand he knew he fucked up.

The way his chest tightened when you laughed, the way his hand accidentally brushed against yours when you talked he realized that it fit his perfectly. Like it was made to be held by him. The way that your hair fell in front of your eyes, shielding them from him... all he wanted was to brush it away, yet he knew he couldn't.

And as Lucy Gray talked about how happy she was that he got along with everyone amazingly, he knew he fucked up because he realized that he fell in love with you even though he knew that he shouldn't have.

And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight

But my hand's been broken one too many times

So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude

Words, they always win, but I know I'll lose

"Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping"

Your voice echoed through the bar as you sang your heart out on the stage.

The people around were dancing and singing along with your beautiful, angelic yet strong voice like their life dependent on it.

Coriolanus was standing in the corner, leaned against the weirdly wet wall, smile placed onto his face as he watched you perform. Warm feeling spreaded across his chest as he watched you. A fire that will soon be drowned buy cold icy feeling as he watched someone coming up to you. Talking to you while you clearly didn't want to talk to him.

"Let go of me, now!"

Coriolanus took one step forward so he could see better and try to figure out who is bothering you and clearly making you uncomfortable. He felt himself freeze once he realized who it was.

Thomas Vill. Your abusive ex.

He remembered Lucy Gray talking to him about your ex. He remembered her saying that he made your life a living hell.

Coriolanus instantly saw red the moment he realized that he harshly grabbed your hand, not letting you go. The fear in your eyes was enough to set Coriolanus to move toward the stage as quickly as he could.

He still doesn't remember how that happened, but he grabbed Thomas by his shoulders as he planted his fist directly into his face, blood spraying his fist the moment it locked onto Thomas' face.

He heard you gasp at the sight, but he didn't stop.

Coriolanus pushed Thomas onto the floor as he started to beat the audacity out of him. You never saw him this angry before.

You quickly, somehow, snapped out of the shock and started to try and pull Coriolanus off of him because you realized that if you didn't do something, he will kill him in front of you.

And it's not like Thomas didn't deserve it, but you didn't want Coryo to get into more trouble now that he had finally somewhat gotten his life into control.

Sejanus Plinth saw what happened. He was quick to join you and started to pull Coriolanus off of Thomas. He lucky succeed because he was stronger. He was a Peacekeeper after all.

You felt panic arise into your throat as you looked around and realized that almost everyone was staring at you.

Without spearing Thomas a second glance, you ran after Coriolanus and Sejanus. Your mind racing, what will Lucy Gray think? Why did her love beat up her cousin's ex in front of more than half of District 12.

Once you pushed yourself through the crowd you finally reached the outside where you saw Coriolanus spitting some blood from his mouth, your heart braking at the sight.

"What did you think that you were doing?!" You couldn't help to yell at him as you finally reached him.

"He was lucky I didn't kill him." Coriolanus answered calmly as he rubbed his lips to get rid of the blood.

"You can't do that, Coryo!" You continued, finally spilling your emotions out in front of the man you loved.

"So what?!" Coriolanus raised his voice now, too. "I could've just let that bastard touch you against your will?!"

"No!" You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. "But what would Lucy Gray think if she saw you doing that?"

You were so scared.

Was he not thinking rationally?

"I don't care." He answered, truthfully, you knew that and it scared you.

For a moment you were quiet until he spoke up again.

"You know I love you, right?" He asked you, peeking at you in the night, moonlight reflected the beauty of his deep blue eyes.

"No..." You felt every last bit of air leave your lungs as you spoke, panic raising in your chest. "You can't love me, Coryo."

"Why not?" He asked in frustration, his chest moving up and down in desperate attempt to calm himself, to try and rid himself of this injustice.

"Don't-" your voice broke. "Don't do this to me." You begged.

He gently grabbed your hand and your breath quickened, it was nothing like when Thomas grabbed you earlier. This was soft, caring even as he brought your body closer to his.

"Tell me why." He was begging now, oh God how much did he hate this. "Tell me that you don't love me."

"I-"

"Look me in the eyes, (Y/N), and tell me that you don't love me and I will walk away." Coriolanus spoke, his breath on your cold cheeks as he spoke. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't want me."

"Coryo-"

"Break my heart the way it's supposed to happen." He breathed out. "Go on."

"I-" You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes not realizing that you're crying. "I love you, but I can't."

"(Y/N)-"

"You can want to love me and I can do that too, but I can't do it to my cousin." You spoke separating yourself from him as you left him in the middle of the cold night, tears streaming down your cheeks as you went.

Lucy Gray.

And I'd sing a song that'd be just ours

But I sang 'em all to another heart

And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love

But all my tears have been used up

"Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep."

Lucy Gray's voice echoed through the bar as she played the guitar and sang the song you wrote.

You told the Covey you weren't really feeling good so you decided to stay backstage as you listened to Lucy Gray and the rest of the Covey, and watched the crowd singing and dancing the the words that you poured out from the depths of your heart.

Your eyes were searching for Coriolanus in the bar and after a while you finally found him.

He was sitting on a par of turned-over buckets with Sejanus. He was wearing simple clothes instead of his Peacekeeper uniform, but he was still wearing his dog tag that initiated that he had probably finished his shift and he decided to show up here.

You couldn't do this.

Lucy Gray's voice was happily singing away at the cords and lyrics that were written by you as she kept her eyes looked onto Coriolanus' blue ones.

His eyes were sparkling, but not as much as they did when he was with you.

Lucy Gray was so happy with him. So full of joy, and you were so happy for her, but fuck... you loved him, too.

You knew that he loved her, but you also knew that perhaps he loved you more. Yet you knew that you couldn't and wouldn't ever break Lucy Gray's heart like that. She was your cousin and you knew that guilt would be eating you alive, it already did.

So with a tear sliding down your cheek you listened to her sing before you turned around and left.

"And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for,

King of my heart, body and soul"

Coriolanus Snow really tried to keep his eyes on her, but once she sang that his gaze found your (Y/H/C) for a moment before it disappeared behind the curtains. His chest tightened at the sight and at the words that you wrote for him.

You were like a delicate flower, like an angel sent to guide him. You were eveything that he needed, a daffodil in the middle of the winter.

But he couldn't have you and you couldn't have him. It's just the way it had to be, no matter how painful it was.

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[midnightsimpsstuff]

WILDLOWER

WILDFLOWER by Billie Eilish

Spencer Reid x reader

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort (promise), JJ's confession to Spencer, toxic friendship, mention of break ups, happy ending.

Summary: After JJ confesses to Spencer that she is in fact in love with him, he is stuck in a tight spot and doesn’t want the reader to find out because you never knew he liked JJ so he broke up with you with no explanation. Because you are friends with JJ you happened to go to her to cry about the breakup not knowing she’s at fault.

A/n: I found out what Wildflower by Billie Eilish was truly about and I fell in love with the idea so I wrote something with the plot, so enjoy! LOL. There might be a part two so look out for that.

Word Count: 2.3k

Comments, shares and rebloggs are appreciated! :))

Had to add the inspiration ;)

You were walking back home, and your heart was more than broken, you didn’t think anything could be worse than this. Everything was fine before Spencer had gone on that stupid case! You knew he was kidnapped during it, you knew he wouldn’t want to tell you what happened but to break up? That was too far.

You took some time of work, you couldn’t go on, not in this state, your friend JJ, who had even introduced you to Spencer was the only friend of yours that didn’t have work at that moment, she was given a leave for reasons she hadn’t told you.

That was what brought you to her couch watching rom-coms, taking tubs of ice creams at once you just finished crying your eyes out on her shoulder, when you told her about how Spencer just dumped you for absolutely no reason, you felt as she tensed up. You were no profiler but you knew that she knew why but you won’t push her to tell you, in case it was a touchy subject and she kicks you out of her house.

Meanwhile, JJ knew she had never felt more guilty in her life, not when she returned home and she had to hug her kids and sleep side by side with Will, not telling him about the case a she usually would, not when she imagined Spencer was at her side not Will, or her kids looked like Spencer or how much they loved Spencer, and she wished she had known Spencer loved her back then she knew everything would be different.

She didn’t think Spencer would break up with you, it was a life or death situation there was nothing she could do but tell him, she felt instantly better when the burden was off her shoulders, she didn’t one bit think about how it could affect him, how it could affect you.

She comforted you though, trying to take her mind away from how you would act when you find out what she said, what she did, how it was her fault, all her fault, how you didn’t deserve this. You were a perfect fit for Spencer. You let him talk without interruptions, you didn’t use him to make your work easier, you didn’t give him sneaky insults or once tell him to shut up, but she did and she didn’t deserve the kindness both of you showed her endlessly.

You had gone home around the time Will had come back from work, JJ’s face was stuck on a look of despair, she made you feel better sure but when you told her ‘Thank you so much, Jenny. You know exactly how to make me feel better, you’re an awesome person and friend. Good Night!’ she froze at the door as she closed it watching you drive away with your car.

It wasn’t fair on you, she felt like shit, Will had noticed her weird mood and tried to confront her about it but she lashed out at him and went straight to her room. Discarding the takeout that Will had gotten from her and their kids’ favourite store she couldn’t help but subconsciously think about Spencer bringing you home takeout from your favourite food store if not for her and her big mouth.

She should have never loved him in the first place, especially since she got you both together.

Spencer and JJ had returned back to work the two weeks after, everyone in the BAU saw the change in dynamic between both of them, and they noticed Spencer’s mood had ultimately dampened and his migraines weren’t the only reason.

Spencer had suffered the two weeks without you, it was just taking a break from each other, and he secretly hoped you would find out what JJ had said so you would understand that it wasn’t his fault.

Your heart would be crushed and his and your friendship would be crushed, because you would have asked him if he loves JJ back and he honestly doesn’t know. He loves her as a friend for sure but as more? He’s not sure.

He already knew he was going to go over to your place that evening and explain everything to you, he had a feeling you didn’t know if not you would have barged into here a long time ago. He knows you, you don’t know how to keep your anger in check you would have come to confront her right there right then.

He let out a soft sigh. It was lunch break now, he had already ordered the flowers you adored so much to your house. When you get back from work you would see them and when you change and get comfortable you would see him. Hopefully, you would take him back even though he knew that was unlikely he really hurt you.

As he was about to get to his seat, JJ stopped him and he couldn’t help the eye roll he did, he wasn’t on the best terms with her at the moment he was going to make up with her when he has completely made up with you.

“Spencer, I am so sorry about your breakup, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” JJ had started with not noticing how loud she had said it now everyone was listening to them but they didn’t make it obvious.

His eyebrows furrowed, not only because of her pitch but also how did she know? “How do you know, I never told anyone that-“ then it clicked. He never knew she had it in her to be this much of a bitch. But he didn’t want to jump into conclusions.

“She told you didn’t she? But did YOU tell her?” He didn’t care if anyone heard at this point he was pissed. Really? Confess your love to your friend’s boyfriend and comfort her about him.

“I am sorry about everything about everything but you know I couldn’t do that to her.” JJ looked down to the floor in shame, her eyes were watering but she knew she didn’t have the right to be crying at that moment. He couldn’t believe he thought he loved her.

He walked away from her, he looked angrier that before but that subsided when he realised he could go home. He had never done anything as fast in his life, he packed his bag, practically ran out then began driving straight to your house.

You had just arrived at home seeing a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers at your front your door you knew who it was from. You unconsciously smiled before your face dropped remembering the break up, you sighed before carrying it inside your house. Dropping it on your coffee table, you realised it had a note but you weren’t in the right frame of mind to read it yet.

You went to quickly shower, change into something by far more comfortable. Before plopping on your couch, deciding to read the note.

            Dear Y/N it was inconsiderate of me to break up with you without explaining first, I am coming over after work to explain everything to you. If you don’t want me to come over just text me. Love you, Spencer.

It wasn’t his handwriting, he must have sent it over, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Funny of him to think you still had his number.

As you began watching something on your TV, you heard your doorbell ring, you went to open it.

“Start talking bitch.”

You sat on the chair opposite Spencer, he had just finished explaining everything to you and your mouth was currently agape. You began backtracking you finally understood. That’s why her body kept going rigid.

She loved Spencer. She had a husband yet she loved Spencer. She had kids yet she loved Spencer. Spencer had a girlfriend yet she loved Spencer. Spencer’s girlfriend was someone she considered a best friend yet she loved Spencer. She was extremely beautiful, knew Spencer way longer than you and Spencer once liked her like seven years ago and now she was in love with him. Spencer is the godfather of her child and she loves him?!

You were no more shocked, the reality of the situation was dawning on you, softly laughing to yourself about everything. “You don’t love her back, right?” you didn’t know what you would do if he said he does but the moment the question came out of your mouth. Spencer shouted no so loud you flinched.

His face was now pink from embarrassment, “No, I don’t, not anymore, not again it’s just you I love and want to love.” He said meeting your eyes with a smile.

His eyes began doing that drawing in puppy dog eye thing it usually did when he wanted to get something he wanted, you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it sure felt like he did because how could you not take him back when he is doing his face that way.

You walked over to him, your face was neutral, and he didn’t know what you were going to do. When you stood beside him you held his face, caressing his skin as he looked up at you his eyes still doing the thing. You slapped him really hard, “That’s for hurting my heart for the past two weeks.” Then you crouched down to him giving him a passionate kiss. “That’s because you went out of your way to explain and apologize and because I love you.

His face still hurt but he was sincerely happier now he had you back. You went away to get your phone to send a quick message to JJ.

‘We need to talk, come over tomorrow.” you sent her. You gave your phone to Spencer so he could see the message. His face visibly tensed, “Are you ending your friendship with her?” he asked. He’d feel pretty bad, you two have always been so close.

“No, we just need to talk some things through. Don’t worry my love” you said as you took a seat in his lap and as he drew circles on your thigh.

“Should I end my friendship with her?” Spencer asked shyly, he felt like you would say no but he did really value JJ as a friend so it might hurt a bit.

“Do you want to?” you asked him, you were just playing with him finding it funny as his face began changing from thoughtful to fear. He felt like it was a trick.

He feebly nodded, you smiled “Then no, Spencer. That won’t be fair on you. You two have been friends longer than I knew you” you told him while looking at him with love.

Everything was better and looking up for you.

But with JJ she felt her heart leap out of her chest as she read your message, she just read it again and again and again. The face of Spencer’s fury and your sad face was in her head she didn’t know what to do she didn’t want to lose any of you but she knew what was coming.

She just came between a good relationship because of her stupid feelings. She would have cried even more if she wasn’t tired of crying.

After getting the message from you she got enough courage to tell Will about everything. He reacted better than she thought he would have, although he was mad. When she had assured him she doesn’t love him anymore and only loved Will. He wasn’t so mad anymore but he asked for a bit of space because the way she had been neglecting him throughout the weeks she was at home and he said it’s best she knows what it felt like a bit.

JJ without fail had come to your home the next day, immediately after work. Texting Will about where she would be. She didn’t get a response though he left her on read, but she understood she had hurt many people and it was beginning to come on her.

You opened the door smiling at her. JJ wanted to cry, why were you smiling, did you not know, did you know and weren’t angry, she doesn’t know whether you and Spencer got back together. But she knew she couldn’t take it any longer.

“Y/N, I have something to tell you…” she stated while motioning her head inside as if asking if she could come in. You moved away so she could seat in on your couch.

You already knew and you felt touched she wanted to come clean. You looked at her expectantly waiting for her to speak.

“I confessed my love to Spencer on our last case, I think that’s why you two broke up.” She was fiddling with her ring.

“I already apologized to him, and to Will and I felt it’s time to apologize to you, I don’t want to lose any of you. I am so sorry I got you two together, I am sorry I pulled you both apart, I am sorry you trusted me enough to cry to me about what happened. I don’t deserve you.”

When she finally looked up at you, she realised you didn’t look angry. “Spencer told me.” You said. She felt something in her stomach drop. “You knew the whole time?” she asked, now she felt this was a plan for you to become the next unsub.

But instead your eyes widened, “No, he told me yesterday. Relax.” You said rubbing her back.

“I forgive you don’t worry. I want my friend back. You two hugged and she held unto you tighter than she had ever done before. Spencer watched you two from the kitchen.

This is how it’s meant to be.

[charlie-lec-stories]

Nightmares // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Everyone deals with their own battle, but they are always easier faced together.

Warnings: Abusive parenting, homophobia, abandonment issues, sexism, grief and childhood trauma.

Author’s Note: This is about companionship, we all deal with our own pain and we all have a past that still haunts us. This is about facing those battles hand in hand with the people you love. I wrote this some time ago, listening to 'Return the favor' and 'Therapy', both by All Time Low, and 'The only exception' by Paramore. I highly recommend listen to those tracks. I hope you like the story. Rate: +16 (descriptions of violence)

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The cold wind from outside filtered through a small dent on Max's bedroom window and the contact it made with his uncovered skin made him shiver. He thought about all the other punishments he had endured before over his 16 years of life and he assured himself that it could have gotten worse. Spending the winter night on his bedroom floor, in underwear, was way better than when he had to spend a week sleeping in the back yard because he came in second on an important race. It was also better than when his father left him alone in that gas station, the fear so intense that he ended up crying on the bathroom floor, hiding from the strangers around. At least he was in his home, in his room and he had his stuffed lion to keep him company. He gripped it tightly, feeling a little stupid for keeping such a childish object when he was that old, but it was the only thing that brought him a little comfort. He thought about his mother, who gave him the lion, and wondered what his life would be like if he had stayed with his mom and sister instead of his father. Would he be happier? Would he be as good at racing as he was? Would his mother have accepted him for who he was? He had an answer for that one: Yes. His mother would have chosen to love him anyways, he was sure of that. He wished, with his whole heart, to close his eyes and wake up in a better place, where he was loved for who he was. So he closed his eyes and waited for his wish to come true.

Max woke up in a cold sweat, he could still feel his fingers and toes frozen, the floor against his bare legs. A decade had passed from that night, but he still had nightmares about it once in a while. His childhood always came back whenever he was stressed or with low batteries. It was like his brain tried to sabotage him, filling him with more pain than he already felt. He looked to his left and found Charles sound asleep, his arms under the pillow, bringing it closer to his face, a peaceful look adorning his features. He knew that Charles had his own battles, and that he dreamed of his own nightmares, but how he wished he had the kind of father Charles had. Hervé was a loving husband and parent and even though he left this Earth way too early, he left a wonderful mark on everyone who knew him. His children loved him, his wife Pascale loved him. What did his father do? He also left marks, his mom had an order of protection against him, his sister was terrified of him, and Max did everything he could to run away as far as possible so he didn't have to be near him. If he could, he would bring back Hervé and give up his father. With a sigh and feeling a little guilty for his thoughts, he finally got up. He had to look for his girl, who was definitely hiding somewhere instead of being in bed with them.

The sky was still pretty dark outside, the stars shining on Monaco's natural ceiling, the full moon big over the Mediterranean Sea. He found her sitting on the floor of the balcony, a cigarette between her lips and her eyes lost in the waves that crashed rhythmically on the beach. Charles hated when she smoked, so she did it outside, so the stick of the nicotine wouldn't stay on her clothes. Max didn't like it either, but he tolerated the habit because he knew that it helped her calm down, one day he would make her switch to something healthier. Some day. Before stepping out, he caught a glimpse of the beloved lion on one of the living room shelves, so he grabbed it and hugged it close, a familiar calmness running all over his body. If she heard him walk out, she didn't show, but she must definitely have noticed his presence when he sat down next to her. They were used to the silent conversations, they had had them their whole friendship. Secret gazes, millimetric gestures that only they could read, the changes on each other's skins when the other was around. They were used to the effect they had on each other, so he knew that she felt him there when the hairs of her arms stood up and her breathing changed, because even if she didn't say anything, her body did.

"Which one was it this time?". She asked, not even looking at him.

"The night I came out". He had said it so many times that his voice didn't break anymore.

"That one is tough". The comment was swallowed by the poof she gave to the cigarette, but he got it.

"It was. It always comes back whenever I'm happy with you, but angry at racing". And it made sense, after all the punishment wasn't only for coming out of the closet, it was also because Jos was sure that 'the queerness' of Max would make him a mediocre driver.

"You know that losing this championship wasn't your lack of concentration or skill. Charles is as great as us, and for the love of God, Ferrari finally did things right for once". He knew that, still, he lost and he always had a hard time losing. He lost in 2024 against her, he lost in 2025 against Charles, would he ever be able to win again? "You are a 3 times World Champion, Max. You don't owe anything to anyone, and I can assure you that you're not mediocre".

He pulled her close and took her cigarette away, she was about to complain when he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply. He believed her, every word, and he was grateful that he had her to remind him of the amazing person he was and could be. They pulled apart when they heard movement inside, the curtains of the living room moving aside as Charles walked out to the balcony. Sleep was still written all over his face, but he woke up fully pretty quickly when he felt the dense atmosphere that wrapped them up. He walked over to them, a mixture of curiousness and worry in his eyes as he scanned them over. They pulled apart to make some room for him to sit in the middle, Charles noticed the lion and the cigarettes, understanding the situation. Resting his back against the building's wall, he pulled them to his chest and ran his hands up and down their arms, hoping for it to be enough. He saw Max's grip tighten around the old stuffed animal, the marks of his pyton's grip over the years clear on it. Charles pulled him a little bit closer and kissed his head.

"You're anything but ordinary".

She did all she could to get loose, but the grip on her arm was so tight it was impossible to break. She screamed and kicked as her mother dragged her to the room, she wished that her racing suit was ticker, so her arm wouldn't hurt that much. Her father was crying and pleading behind them, asking for his wife to finally let go, but it was pointless, when had she ever listened to anything he had to say? The mud of her shoes drew patterns on their living room floor as they neared her bedroom and she wondered if her mother was actually going to use the chancla on her. Her body made contact with the carpeted floor of her room and her mother grabbed her face to make her look at her. She screamed at her face, about how she was a disgrace, a 'marimacho', a 'zorra' playing with the boys instead of being a 'señorita', she went on and on about the shame she brought to the family. She reminded her that no daughter of hers would do something like racing, wear the clothes she wore and go around covered in mud and filth like she did. But the girl just muted the rest of the screams, she just let her say whatever she wanted, because she was not going to stop her from chasing her dream. She had just met the best boys in the world and she was going to race those boys for the rest of her life. No matter what. She felt the chancla hit her back, but it didn't hurt her anymore, no when she knew that it was the price to pay for sneaking out to race. Her mother would change her mind one day, but for that day to come, she had to take it today. No. Matter. What.

She woke up to the sound of the front door closing. Max and Charles were probably back from the supermarket. She sighed as he got up from the couch, the feeling of the chancla still lingering on her skin. It was the worst, the rubber hitting on the same place, over and over again, but it was more hurtful to her pride. The humiliation that came with the beating, the screams, the words, the hate on her mother's eyes. She remembered that beating like it was yesterday, because it was the one that changed everything. It was the first time that, when she was finally left alone in her room, she wasn't scared anymore. That week she met Pierre and he introduced her to Max and Charles the very same day that her mother gave her that beating. Meeting the boys and winning a race against them gave her the push she needed to hold on to her dream and never let go. Her motto was born that day: 'No matter what'. She took it to heart, and kept pushing and pushing, she took as many more beatings as she had, but she kept sneaking out, even if her mother dropped the chancla to grab the wooden spoon from the kitchen, even if the skin of her hands was red and burning from the hard wood against it. She kept pushing, and she became world champion. A hand on her back brought her back to reality and she relaxed against Charles' hand once his scent made her aware of his presence.

"Which one was it?". He asked softly as he ran his hand up and down her back.

"The day we met". She admitted, Max placed the bags on the floor and walked up to them.

"It's okay, Schat, you're safe now". She smiled softly at them.

"I know. It's just that her birthday is in a few days". Charles nodded, understanding.

"You know you don't have to go if you don't want to, Amour". It was her turn to nod.

"I also know that. But she changed a lot over the years. I know that we still have out problems and that she's not a fan of our relationship, but I can see that she's trying". Max was a lot less forgiving, but he was also aware that he wasn't the one with the best record of family choices, he still visited his father.

"I agree that she seems to be trying, Amour, and I admire you a lot for being able to see that and be so forgiving. I still want you to put yourself above everything. Take care of yourself, because you're not any of those things she said. You're wonderful, and we are beyond proud of who you are, okay?". Charles placed his hand against her cheek and she snuggled against it. "We are so very proud, Amour".

Charles rubbed his nose with hers, making her giggle a little, and bringing a smile to Max's lips. It always worked, because if there was something that she needed was softness. It was something that her dad did, treat her with gentleness, with love and with trust. He always believed in her, even if he was so afraid of his wife and had to take even more beatings and insults than her. She didn't blame him, but she was sure that she would never make the same mistakes her dad made. So she looked for gentle men, men with nice words and tender touches, nothing like her mother, nothing like who her dad settled for. And she found Charles and Max, the embodiment of kindness, enough for her heart to skip a beat and her shoulders to relax under their touch. It felt good, being able to be loved, laughing on a daily basis, relying on them when she needed and giving herself the chance of being an open book, unafraid and never judged. A lonely tear fell down her cheek and Max caught it before it made it to her jaw, wiping it away with a swift movement of his thumb. It made her look at him, his blue eyes looking back at her with the same adoration they have been for the past decade. Her heart made a few jumps inside her chest. Max pressed his forehead gently against hers, making her close her eyes with him, the feeling of Charles' hand agains the skin of her back, where the burning of the chancla was just a bitter memory in the back of her mind. Max's lips barely touch hers.

"You're a dream come true".

Charles ran, his lungs burning as the air coming inside was not enough to keep his body moving. The fog around the graveyard and the darkness of the night made his heart race faster, the feeling of it threatening to jump out of his ribcage. He called their names into the silence of the dead, but he couldn't hear anything. Does sound really exist if there's no one to hear it? He passed gravestone after gravestone, the names of his family and friends written in each one of them. He cried, the tears blurring his vision as he desperately looked for their names. He didn't want to be alone, in the dark, in the cold, with the dead. The place seemed to never end, filled with all the people he loved but weren't there anymore, the air felt tight around his body, sour inside his mouth, painful coming into his lungs. He kept searching. What would he do if he couldn't find them? How could he keep on living if they weren't by his side? He couldn't be alone, he didn't want to. He needed them, he needed his friends, his family. He kept searching, because it was the only thing he could do, and as the names kept appearing he felt like his heart just couldn't take it anymore. He fell to his knees, two stones right in front of him. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe anymore, the feeling of his lungs contracting for air but nothing going in. There they were, the names he hoped to never see graved in stone, right in front of his eyes. Charles clawed at the grass, removed the dirt, he felt the cold and humid soil under his fingertips as clear as he felt the daggers inside his chest. He just wanted to pass out, to turn to dust right there so he could join them wherever they were, because no life was worth living without them. But he had had this nightmare before, so he knew, he knew that he was never going to pass out, because this was his biggest fear: living the rest of his life mourning his own.

He woke up alone in the hotel room bed, a halo of cold sweat around him and he inhaled as hard as he could to keep his lungs full. He felt a rush of calm run down his spine when he felt the air come in. He searched for the dirt under his fingernails, only to find them as clean as they were when he went to sleep last night. Getting up, he gave up the longest sigh as he gathered everything he needed to jump in the shower. He needed it, he needed to get rid of the stench of the graveyard that still lingered on his nose, the humidity of the air clenched to his skin, but mostly, he needed to wash away the feeling of loneliness that haunted him still. As the water ran down his body, cleansing him like a religious ritual taking away his sins, he felt the same tug in his heart as he did a few years back. The guilt of that feeling settled inside his belly, like a parasite eating him inside out. He remembered the fear of closeness, how he refused to accept that he loved Max and Y/N because he was terrified of ever losing them, how he had found solace in keeping a comfortable distance, how he convinced himself that he was content with loneliness. He refused to love someone because he knew that the grief is as great as the love you feel. But they found their way into his heart and now he couldn't kick them out. He was destined to suffer, to live in pain. To be alone. He heard movement outside the bathroom as he stepped out of the shower. He opened the door to find his partners changing the bedding. They knew that he hated to be alone in the hotel rooms, he ended up getting sick and tired of sleeping alone over the weekend.

"Which one was it, Poopie?". Max asked, even though the messy sheets and the shower were a big hint. He just wanted to be sure.

"The graveyard". He sat on the bed, the smell of clean sheets comforting against the odor of the humid dirt that he could still remember.

"We're still here, Charlie". She reassured him, her hand on his tight applying a little pressure to ground him there.

"But you'll leave". He replayed softly. She pressed her hand more, a little proof to his heart that they were there.

"Everyone leaves, Poopie, but that doesn't mean you'll be alone". Max sat by his side and ran his finger through his hair, a gesture that brought some warmth to his chest.

"You can't know that". The risk was just so much, too great. "The more I love you the more it'll hurt".

"We know that, because we love just as much, Charles". Max pulled him into a side hug, his head resting against the Dutchman's collarbones. "Loving is a risk and we are all afraid of taking that risk. But, I have known since I met you, that there's just one person that everyone is willing to take the risk for, and that person is you. You're the greatest man I know. Loyal, just, kind, hardworking, you are the epitome of greatness. It's impossible for someone like you to ever be alone".

It wasn't just the words, but how they reverberated inside Max's chest, in sync with his heartbeat that made Charles believe him. It was the warm feeling of Y/N's hand still on his tight. They were there, they were worth it, the fear, the pain. He would rather spend his life mourning them if it gave him the chance to have them for as long as Death allowed him. He was still a work in progress, but he was on his way to believing, trusting, risking. He felt Y/N moving to sit on his lap, her hands carefully adjusting the towel around his hips so it wouldn't loose. She pulled him away from Max and placed his head against her chest, her own heartbeat now strongly pumping against his face. It gave him peace of mind. The feeling of them there, Max's hand still on his hair, her soft hands on his face. They made him feel loved, they made him feel like there was hope in life, no matter how hard the road was. And he finally felt like he may be that special person Max told him he was. Maybe he was one of those people that'll never be alone. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't need to be so scared. Y/N pulled him away and pressed her lips to his forehead, erasing the frown that tinted his features. Maybe, he was the reason why they were willing to take the risk of loving, even if their whole lives they had only met pain and hurt. Maybe the risk was as great for them as it was for him, so maybe he was the one they risked it all for, even if they said they would never. Maybe, he was comfortable with loneliness, except when it came to them. And he knew, the moment she mumbled against him, that he was...

"You're the only exception".

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I hope you guys like this one. It's really hurt/comfort and I feel like it turned out great. Like, reblog and comment, like you guys always do. Much love!

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 6

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

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Chapter summary: Past. Remy teaches you to drive Present. Separated, you and Logan speak to others about each other.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

3.0 words

Before

“Remy!!!” You giggle, the car driving slow as a snail, with you behind the wheel.

“You are doing great, pistache, but I think you can speed up a little more now.”

You nod, smiling as you tap the gas just a bit. The car jolts forward, making Remy gasp and grab at his chest.

“Shoot!”

Remy laughs. “C’est bon, just keep going.”

He was teaching you to drive. Your parents and husband did not think you needed to learn how to drive, which you thought was silly.

‘What if I need to go somewhere?’

‘Where could you possibly need to go without me?’

‘What if we have our baby, and there’s an emergency?’

‘Call me, I’ll take care of you. Besides, you should probably worry about managing to get pregnant before you worry too hard about that, babe.’

The memory made your skin crawl, and made you more determined to learn yourself. In the distance of the parking lot, you can see Logan leaning against his bike, smoking a cigar.  When you told him during your regular lunches you returned too that he was going to teach you to drive, Logan tried to insist it should be him instead. You told him you weren’t going to learn on a motorcycle before a car. When he pouted, you said that you’d let him teach you to ride a motorcycle one day. That made him smile. He was still apprehensive, but you promised he could watch just in case.

“Look out!” Remy’s call brought you back to reality, him grabbing the steering wheel and turning only just in time to swerve the curve of the car from crashing straight into it. The car jumps the curb and you hear a loud pop, but as soon as you had heard his exclamation, you had taken your foot off the gas. For a moment the car sputtered slowly as you drove back onto the parking, then it stop with a shake. Logan was there, his hands on the hood and preventing the little bit of engine power that made the car go in drive from pushing forward. The fear in his eyes as he locked into yours make your heart clench, but you were too busy feeling guilty for whatever you did to Remy’s car.

“Remy! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim as you put the car into park.

His hand is on his heart, but he’s looking you over. “Don’t worry about me, I can heal. Did you hit your head?”

“But your car!” Tears blur at your eyes fast. This is why you never learned. You were too stupid to learn. You were just a dumb stupid idiot girl who could drive and couldn’t do math and could get pregant so what was the fucking point of you? Stupid, stupid, stu-

Strong hands pulled your face to him, eyes wide and blown out and looking over you. “Baby doll, are you hurt? Is anything hurting?”

The tears stream down your face, panic rising in your gut. Remy was going to hate you. Your friend was going to hate you.

“I broke his car!!” You exclaim, sobbing loudly. 

Confusion flitters across his face. Ever gentle, Logan takes your face in his hands, getting close so that you couldn’t avoid looking at him. “Baby, look at me. Need you to look at me.” When your eyes focused on his dark brown ones again, he gave you a little smile. “Good girl. Now listen to me. You didn’t break his car, the tire popped and the rim is a little busted, but- hey, hey listen to me,- but, Remy isn’t mad, because I’m gonna fix it, right Remy?”

From behind you, Remy speaks, his hand on your back calming you. “I wouldn’t be mad either way, pistache. I promise, it isn’t a big deal.”

You sniffle. “...Did I hurt you guys?” You ask, looking at Logan but directing the question to both.

Logan shakes his head. “We he-”

“I’m not asking about the healing, I’m asking if you got hurt.”

“Little bit in my palms, but it’s nothing now. You were going slow.”

Remy. “Not one bit, I promise. It’s okay.”

You give a little nod. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” Logan thumbs away a tear. 

After you calmed down down enough to tell him you were hurt, just shaken up, Logan look visibly relieved. Remy went to the store with Logan’s card (Remy promised it was okay, but Logan wanted to pay), and got the parts Logan needed to repair, Logan took you up to your room.

“Are you sure you’re okay, dolly?”

“Yeah… yeah I’m okay… Can you… maybe stay with me while Remy’s out?”

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.”

The accident had scared you, but what scared you more was that they’d get mad at you, hurt you. You were so prepared to take a beating, and you would have deserved it. 

“Remy isn’t mad, right?” You ask once again, still nervous.

Logan frowned. “No, no he isn’t. Not one bit. In fact, he’s probably forgotten all about it and is flirting with some unlucky cashier as we speak.”

That made you chuckle, but quickly even that joy was gone. “I thought… I thought he was gonna start yelling at me… or hit me or something… I don’t understand how he’s so calm.”

His frown turned into something dark, a coldness washing his face that sent a chill through you. This wasn’t the Logan you knew, but you’d seen something akin to it before, when the man at the store yelled at you. “Has he ever hurt you?”

Your eyes go wide. “No! No, oh my god, absolutely not.”

“Has he ever yelled at you? Because I’ll kill him, I swear to god dolly, I’ll-”

“No! Logan,” You take his hand, thumbing over the hair at the top. “I promise, Remy has never so much as rolled his eyes at me.”

There was a pause, Logan searching you for a lie, checking if you were protecting him, your soft little heart not wanting him hurt… He was skeptical.

“Then why did you think he was going to?” When Logan asks this, you shift uncomfortably in your spot at the window seat, looking away, but he squeezes the hand you hold him with. “Talk to me, please.”

You still can’t look at him, ashamed to admit what happened to you, and not really telling the full story… but Logan deserved to know. The way he looked at you, the way you felt for him… he was as good as they came. He deserved to know.

“I told you I was married…” Another light squeeze. “He um… he used to beat me. Badly…”

Logan knew this of course, Charles letting you in on this when you were sick… Ever since then, he’s been trying to figure out who your husband is so he can go slice him open, leaving his guts hanging on your church’s door, intestines wrapped around the door handle. No luck so far.

“How badly, doll?”

“Bad enough to get frequent flyer points at the hospital.” You try to joke, but Logan didn’t think it was funny.

“And no one thought it was suspicious?”

You were so uncomfortable, needing so badly to get away from this conversation. Shame filled you, but what happened, what really fully happened was so much more worse than you could ever tell him, so you gave a simpler version.

“No. I tried to tell a doctor but he… said it was my fault.” Saying it was your fault was only the half of it.

Logan looked like he was ready to commit murder. 

“Tell me his name, doll. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

*

You didn’t, refused to. He didn’t need to go googling that name and find what comes up.

Soon, Remy returned and Logan acquiesced to going to fix the car, only leaving you when it seemed like you might have another anxiety attack if Remy’s car wasn’t fixed.

You watch from your window seat as Logan worked. He had the car up on a jack, replacing the rim and the tire like new. He looked so good like this, that tight white tank top and blue jeans, muscles straining against himself and dirtying up in grease… he looked so good. Things were getting harder and harder to retrain with him, and god, when he was like this? He was exactly the masculinity you were taught to idolize, but with a softness you didn’t expect.

Your fingers were ghosting over your panties before you could stop yourself. A tingly rush came through as you touch over your clit, a mix of shame and pleasure filling you. You never, ever touched yourself. It was a sin, it was wrong. Yout thought. Honestly, you were still recovering from everything you and your husband went through, you hadn’t had time to re-evaluate your beliefs yet. It was all so daunting… but when you swirled over your clit while looking at Logan… you couldn’t help but moan. 

Fuck it.

You were on your way to hell as it was considering what you had done back in Carolina, this was the least of your worries.

Scrambling, you pull off your panties, your skirt giving you easy access to explore your body and feeling what you liked. You imagined Logan touching you, caressing you, telling you the sweet words you’d never heard before.

‘Such a pretty girl, dolly’ he’d say, that rough voice of his crooning against your stomach as he’d touch you. ‘So pretty and good, sweet little angel.’

Logan would make you feel worthy wheen he’d slide his fingers inside.

You pump yourself with your right hand, giving your clit attention with your left and panting heavily. Eyes remained on Logan as he lifted the tire up to the rim, mounting it on again and those muscling bulging even from your view 3 floors up. You pump faster, imagine his words and gentle touches. Logan was always so gentle with you, so careful and kind and filling you with praise you didn’t get before.

‘You’re doing so well, dolly.’ He would tell you, you know he would. Logan always complimented your food, your clothes, how you were with the children… surely he’d compliment your body, how good you were for him… he called you something today, a good girl… yeah he’d call you a good girl knuckles deep, right? ‘Good girl, my little baby doll’

As Logan bolted the tire to car, you feel the orgasm approaching and echo hose words he’d said in the car, over and over again as you watched and imagined it was Logan touching you, ‘good girl, good girl, good girl’ On repeat until it crashed into you.

Caught by surprise, you cry out his name, shouting in pleasure as you ride out your orgasm on your fingers,  wave after wave of pleasure gushing out onto your fingers, body shaking with the intensity. You’d come here and there with your husband. He was pretty good looking and occasionally made things good for you, but this? This was something else. Just the idea of Logan surpassed anything your husband had given you.

Sweaty and panting, you rest of the window, forehead pressed to the cool air.

When you open your eyes, your body ran cold.

Logan was looking right at you.

After

“It’s Logan’s, isn’t it?”

You gasp, startled so much from Scott just appearing behind her more than the words, but as you clean up your spilled rice from the counter, what he said sunk in.

“Sorry.” Scott mumbles, brushing the rice into his hand to throw away. “Thought you heard me come in. I wasn’t quiet.”

“I’m partially deaf, right ear.” You tap it, trying to steer him away from his questions. “Can’t really hear much out of there.”

He’s still staring at you. “That didn’t answer my question.”

Heat creeps up your body. You didn’t want anyone to know, but you were also scared for Scott. Everyone knew their animosity. That will happen when you sleep with a man’s wife. “I don’t know what you mean.” If Scott figured out you were pregnant with Logan’s baby, it wouldn’t take long for him to figure out you aren’t talking to Logan. If he thinks anything is amiss in your relationship, you’re concerned he’ll confront Logan. 

“You can talk to me.”

The urge to laugh at that was strong. You couldn’t even tell Remy what happened, why would Scott think you’d talk to him? You barely knew him. And thank fucking god Mr. Xavier was away or you’re sure he’d pick up on all this. You didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted it to have never happened. You wanted your Logan back. You wanted the Logan you knew before.

“Did he hurt you?”

You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring off into space, but his words make you snap over to him, looking right into his glasses.

“No!” You say quickly, the words sputtering out as denial seeps into your bones. “No, Logan wouldn’t hurt me, Mr. Summers. Logan just wouldn’t. He would do that!” Tears burn behind your eyes as you protest too much. “Logan is kind, and he’s gentle and he- he protects me! He wouldn’t hurt me!”

“Hun-”

“HE WOULDN'T! He protects me! Logan wouldn’t hurt m-me!” The final words came out in a sob, and you realize how suspicious you sounded. Were you saying this to Scott, or to yourself? Were you really denying what he’d done? If you were, you were as crazy and Logan was… but something about your words felt… good. Logan wouldn’t do that to you. Logan isn’t a rapist. 

There’s a beat of silence, Scott’s mouth opening to protest, but he seems to think better of making a crying girl cry more.

“Alright hun, if you say so. Logan wouldn’t hurt a fly.” There is a hint of sarcasm, but it was light enough you could brush it off. Your Logan wouldn’t hurt a fly. Your Logan came into your room as you screamed at a wolf spider, trapped it in his hands and let it go out the window. Your Logan held your in his arms when the nightmares didn’t relent, even though he had woken up from his own. No one understood your Logan. 

*

The girl was sleeping in the back seat.

Kurt and Logan’s pairing had been intentional. Kurt, a devout Catholic, was there to try and sway girl family with theology, convince them that their mutant daughter, Cecilia, was not possessed, but rather gifted by God, who had a divine purpose for her. They preferred to keep families together if possible, not wanting to separate children from their families.

When that didn’t work, and Kurt’s bleeding heart struggled to do what had to be done, that’s where Logan came in. No one was killed, but Logan came close with the father. When he looked at the young girl, he saw you as a teenager, needing help.

Now, as they drive back to New England, she rested, underweight and no sleep for days. They’d stopped at a Culvers, Kurt’s favorite, and got her a whole meal with ice cream included, which she devoured, and they were off.

“You and the young fräulein on the outs, my fruend?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Everyone single one of you is so fucking nosy.”

“Judging by the tone, I’d say that’s a yes”

Kurt was lucky Logan liked him. He sighs, gripping the steering wheel as Kurt chows down on some fries. “There may have been a mild… disagreement.”

He chuckles. “And what did you do?”

“The fuck makes you think it’s my fault?”

“Deine kleine Puppe würde keiner Fliege etwas zuleide tun”

“English”

“You’ve lived all these years and you never bothered to learn another language?”

“Kurt.”

“Your little doll wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Logan snapped his head over to his driving partner. “What the fuck did you just call her?” His tone was harsh, an aggression Kurt wasn’t used to towards him.

Kurt frowned. “Little doll?”

“Don’t fuck’n call her that.”

A beat. “Why?”

“That’s for me. Not you.”

The confusion was clear, but Kurt knew better than to push it.

“When was the last time she’s been to church?”

That made Logan glance over again. “Since she left her family, probably.”

He nodded. “Maybe offer to bring her some weekend.”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh at that. “The church sent her off to be married to a whole ass adult at 16 and let her get abused. I don’t think-”

“The IBLP is a fucking cult, Logan. But not every church is like that.”

A scoff escapes him. “I’m sure. Let me guess, you want her to go to your church?”

Kurt smacked him. “You know damn well I can’t go to mass looking like a demon. Cece’s family about had a panic attack seeing me. No, Logan, I mean like, something less intense. I’m not an idiot, I know you can’t just drop someone into a catholic church. Something like Unitarian Universalist, or a nondenominational church, somewhere she can worship how she chooses.”

There’s a bit of quiet, but Logan is thinking it over. His first instinct was to keep you away from any church ever after what happened to you, but clearly not everyone religious is bad. Hell, Kurt was going to be a priest for a while, and he’s alright. Maybe you needed that. You did still believe… after all your long late-night talks, he knew that much… Considering the baby you were carrying, maybe this would help calm your nerves. You needed hope, a reminder in love and how important family was, how important the family he had with you was…

Thanks for all the love you've been giving this series! It genuinly means so much.

As per the last poll, Im surprised t find remy is makin everyone suspicious! Crazy!

Anyway, now that we've met Kurt and Scott....

If you have any idea for a poll next time, let me know!

Also go ahead and comment or send me anons with any songs you think fit the playlist!

As always, comments mean the world. thank you for all the wonderful comments and the indepth thoughts!

Dark Logan and Dark Scott with reader

dark reader x logan

Logan pregnant scotts wife reader

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia @new-genesis1000 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 27

Moniker: Rudy Risk Level: Medium - Rudy is a part-time resident who is detained as needed. He is currently not detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Choking Safeword: Refer to first brief.

Rudy knows how to do this safely cariño, I’ll be watching as back up and if I think he’s making mistakes I will stop it - Ale

Your head wasn’t really in the game walking in. You just felt run-down and like you would very much rather bury yourself under blankets for the next forever.

It was so fucking stupid, you were so fucking stupid. Last night after Price had taken you out of the bath, Mace had popped his head in with an offering of the cosiest, softest pyjamas you had ever touched in your life. You’d been so appreciative, so happy that he would care so much that even when he probably should have been getting his own aftercare after such an intense session he would be thinking of you. Maybe even a little guilty for hurting you.

Calisto had dropped by later with the most insanely complex and delicious dinner you had ever had. She had made it herself for you. You chatted away about cooking for hours during which König had brought you both steaming mugs of a sort of wintery spiced tea that had been delicious.

You’d fallen asleep content and feeling cared for. Idiot. Obviously you had woken up this morning and realised how pathetic you were. They all must be so sick of having to look after you because you were so bloody delicate about everything. You weren’t even that sore this morning, just the aching that came with a hard fuck and some scrapes and bruises. Nothing broken, nothing permanently damaged. And you had safeworded out and cried about it like a baby.

Price must have wished he had picked someone else. They all must be looking forward to you being gone. After all your only use was as a warm body and you weren’t even managing that properly now.

You had to be better. Not that there was really any chance of ever seeing any of them again after this was all over because who would ever want you?

Rudy was beautiful as always. He’d had the room set up just as it had been the first time with him when you’d tried to learn to deepthroat, all soft plush furnishings, calming scents and varieties of snacks and drinks. Only you hadn’t done a very good job learning given you kept gagging on Gaz just the other day. Another failure.

“Hello beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Good thank you” you lied with a forced but convincing smile.

“Perhaps not for long. Have any of the others choked you?”

You considered and shook your head. No, not properly. At least not with their hands.

“Even done correctly it is not 100% safe, so if you would like we can just play with one another without it” he offered, smiling warmly and running an appraising eye over your robe clad body.

You dropped the robe, baring your body and wanting to die when his eyes narrowed just for a moment before his brow relaxed.

“Choke me Rudy” you said, firm. “I want you to wrap your hand around my throat and squeeze until my pussy is trying to snap your cock off.”

That got him moving towards you, his warm hard delicately wrapping around your throat. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to cut off your circulation or your air, just a light squeeze. You wanted him to do it properly because you could take it. You could take anything. Please God let him be pleased with you.

“It’s ok, I won’t make you stop or anything. Please, you can choke me properly” you said, your hands going to his wrist and trying to push his hand to be firmer.

“Ale! Red!”

You were frozen in place, looking wide eyed at Rudy who took his hand from your throat and immediately cupped your face.

“It’s not you beautiful, you’re perfect ok? Let’s move over to the bed, come on.”

He was so gentle with how he led you to the bed, but your heart was galloping in your chest. You’d fucked up. You’d done something wrong. He hated you.

“Oh cariño, I should have noticed this morning” Ale said as he perched himself on the end of the bed you had been deposited on, his hands picking up one of your feet to rub soothing circles into the sole.

Noticed? You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. Was it clear to them that you were useless? How fed up must they be having to sit here and coddle you?

“I’m fine, I can do it.”

“Shh, I’ve changed my mind on what I want today. I just want you here with us. And maybe you can teach Ale to make the hot chocolate you made for me the other week hm? Better than his recipe.”

“Ah! You wound me Rudy, but I would be honoured if you could teach me your slightly less good than mine hot chocolate recipe none the less cariño.”

For a few hours Rudy held you, peppering kisses on your skin while Ale massaged your feet and calves. You sort of just floated in a heavy feeling haze the rest of the day, going through the motions of making hot chocolate with Ale while Rudy was having some hushed conversation with Price.

You didn’t want to eat but they sent in the big guns, Ghost and Mace more or less bullying you into it. If you hadn’t been so tired afterwards you’d probably have packed your bags before crashing out, after all there was no way they’d want you around after today.

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠🪱Wiggly Wednesday🪱🧠

Thank you for the tags @scoops-aboy86 and @endlessmusings1801!

Okay so hear me out. This was a worm I’ve been thinking about lately, which is bizarre, because it isn’t inherently Steddie…

But we get all kinds of fics of if Eddie and/or Robin were pulled into things earlier than their seasons. But…

What if Tommy and Carol were pulled into things with Steve? Like, picture it…

Instead of ditching Steve after his fight with Jonathan, Steve and Tommy and Carol hash it out a bit more, get into a bigger argument maybe even, and maybe they do separate for a bit. But then they’re still friends, so maybe they huff and puff about it but they talk things out too. Maybe Steve even gets to somewhat convince them that they should all apologize, even if Tommy and Carol don’t really want to or care all that much.

So all three of them go to do so, and all three of them see the demogorgon, and all three of them have that life altering paradigm shift. Maybe Carol and Tommy don’t change completely, at least not immediately, but they’re forced to confront that there’s more than just high school popularity contests, and maybe they become just that little bit of better people.

Maybe Carol and Nancy have a genuine talk, genuinely open up to each other, and no one can ever replace Barb of course, but it’s nice to have another female friend, even if they’re pretty much polar opposites.

Tommy isn’t fond of Jonathan at all, because demogorgon aside, it was creep behavior taking photos of them like that. Tommy helps pitch in to get Jonathan his new camera though, because he egged on Steve’s insecurities (brought on by the fact that Steve’s dad has cheated on his mom so he’s really sensitive to potential cheating in partners) and he guesses he’s partly to blame. He rolls his eyes about it, but Steve is happy he has his friend beside him still.

Tommy and Carol don’t really take to the kids much, but Carol does secretly enjoy getting into bitching sessions with Mike, and later Erica.

When Billy shows up, maybe Tommy and Carol start backsliding. Maybe they have to have a big blowup. Maybe they aren’t there when Steve gets dragged in helping Dustin, at least not immediately, but maybe they hear about Steve dealing with that without them because they chose Billy and they just…they…

They can’t believe they left Steve to deal with that horror by himself. They feel guilty and terrible and they tell Billy off. They can’t believe they chose some stupid popularity that doesn’t even matter over the guy that literally went to bat for them. They’re at the end with him, apologizing for not being there before, and they become even better people.

They come around to lovingly tease Steve at his job at Scoops, wheedling free ice cream out of him. And who knows, maybe telling Billy off changes the third season, maybe them being there, better people and supportive of Steve changes things, maybe the three of them can even change Billy to an extent. Maybe, Steve and Tommy and Carol and Billy hashing it all out and coming to terms with the toxicity of high school and judgemental parents and a society that believes you need to be a certain way to matter…maybe it changes things for the better.

Idk. I’ve just always wondered how things would have gone if Tommy and Carol had been exposed to the truth the first season.

And then blah blah blah, Steve and Eddie eventually fuck about it. Because I am nothing if not a Steddie truther in everything. And who knows…maybe Robin and Carol fuck about it also 😏

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

Co-Hostage tag for this: @katyawriteswhump

No pressure participation tag: @stervrucht (I know you’ve been tagged already but lmao I’m tagging YOU first this time anyways lmaoooo) @fkinkindagauche @steddiecameraroll @henderdads @queenie-ofthe-void

[lil-binuu]

˖⁺‧₊𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

PART III ₊‧⁺˖

He almost didn’t hear you scream.

1680 words (buckle up!)

part 1

part 2

THE SERIES IS BACKKKKK

i’m so sorry for keeping y’all waiting 😭 it’s been a LITERAL MONTH. y’all are so patient and i really really appreciate it! i hope you enjoy!

Tw: strangulation, violence, pedophilia? elias admits he’s a dick, warden is a chill guy (hes actually also a bit of a dick but eh)

Nothing was going through Elias’s head as he ran into your apartment building and up the stairs, two at a time, calling your name repeatedly.

He nearly fell through the open doorway, lunging himself at the attacker on top of you.

It was difficult for you to scream with his hands around your neck, shoved straight against a wall. You tried to kick and push him off you but with your restricted breathing your eyes began to blur black and white.

As Elias dragged the man away from you, landing punches straight into his face, you dropped to the floor. Clutching your throat, gasping for breath through tears.

Your attacker lay limb on the floor, face bloody and messy.

Elias ran over to you, kneeling by your side.

His hands cupped your face, urging you to look at him.

You couldn’t even think, the thumping of your heart loud in your ears, muffling the words of concern from Elias.

He exhaled shakily, pulling you to his chest and holding you tightly.

You almost fell into his embrace, resting your head against him as you sucked air back into your lungs.

Elias held you as if letting you go would kill him.

You cried into his chest, tears running freely as he brought a hand to wipe them away.

Eventually, your breathing slowed. You wiped your eyes, looking up at Elias’s worried expression.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, blinking through the last of your tears.

“Does it hurt?”

“A l-little.” You whispered, reaching to your neck.

“Let me see.” Elias said, lifting your chin and stroking a thumb across your skin. “It’s quite red. And it’ll bruise, but I think you’re okay. Can you breathe fine?”

You nodded again, taking his hand to help you stand up.

Elias looked over to the man lying unconscious on the floor.

“Who is he?” You asked.

“A hitman. And luckily, a bad one.”

“Here. I got you ice.”

Instead of taking you to his apartment, which could have been dangerous if there was another hitman waiting, he took you to one of the Quetza Hotels.

You smiled weakly, eyes still red from crying- something that you apparently couldn’t stop doing no matter how hard you tried.

Elias examined your injury again, pressing the ice wrapped in cloth to your skin.

“I should’ve walked you in.”

You looked up at him, taking the bundle from his hand.

“It’s not your fault, I told you to leave.”

“Still, I should’ve been more careful.” His tone was regretful. You couldn’t let him feel guilty or at fault for this.

You took a breath. “I- I’m sorry, Elias. I’m sorry for getting mad at you a- and saying all of that stuff, you know I didn’t mean it, right?”

Elias put a hand around your cheek. “I know, baby.” And placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry too.” He sighed. “I was being a dick. And I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t good enough. You’re more than enough, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and I was acting so stupid for someone I cared about.”

You leaned forward, pulling him into an embrace. “Thank you,” You whispered. Finally. This is what you wanted, to stop the arguments, to stop pretending like you didn’t make each other complete, because you did.

“I shouldn’t have flirted with that guy, I should’ve known how it would make you feel. I’m sorry.”

He pulled away to look at you.

“It’s okay. It was my fault for not making my feelings clear sooner. I don’t even know what I was waiting for, I was just hesitating.”

You heard the door of the hotel open and looked over.

“I messaged him about what happened,” Elias explained.

“-I wanted to see for myself.” Warden’s gruff voice filled the room.

He came inside and set a briefcase on the coffee table in front of you.

“Is it critical?” He asked, bringing a chair over.

“No, I don’t think so. They can breathe fine and are just in a bit of pain.”

“It seems the ice helped?” Warden gestured.

You nodded.

“Yeah, thanks.” Elias said. “It’s less swollen now.”

“Does it hurt to speak?”

“N-not that much.” You answered.

“Good. Do you think you can ID the guy?”

You nodded again, “I’ll try.”

He opened the briefcase, revealing pictures and documents- mugshots and criminal records. He laid them out on the table.

“Don’t overthink it, just take a look at the pictures and see if you recognise anyone.”

It was simple enough. You took your time flipping through pictures. Men with big scars, tattoos branded across their faces, they looked like criminals. You came across ID logs of known hitmen and looked through them until you found one that resembled the man perfectly.

“Him.” You pointed to the picture.

“Are you sure?” The Warden asked, flicking through pages to find more pictures of the man. You remembered the face above you as he took your throat in his hands. There was no doubt it was him.

“Gabriel Murphy.” He set out a few more photos of different people. “These are known and suspected clients and affiliates” He gestured.

“We still don’t know who ordered the attack, but they might give us a clue.”

The rest of the pictures were people you had never seen before in your life. In a way, it was interesting to look at; to see the type of people who caused trouble. Until another photo in particular caught your eye.

“Wait- who’s that.” You exclaimed suddenly.

Your mouth fell.

“That’s my ex.”

The words hardly made it out, a mere whisper.

“What?”

Your confession captured Elias’s interest immediately.

“Ex? You dated this guy?”

You exhaled slowly, nodding.

“I- I met him when I was in high school.. I had no idea he did gang stuff. I guess he was the type…”

Elias was silent for a moment.

“Your taste in men is appalling.”

You frowned, pouting.

“Hey,” You nudged him with your arm, “My taste in men is you.”

Elias laughed, putting his arm around you.

“How did you even date him? Wouldn’t he have been way older if you were in high school?”

“Ugh, yeah. Gosh, I was so naive.”

“Noah Turner?” Warden asked, laptop out. Criminal logs loaded up on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

It felt like ages since you saw that face. He almost hadn’t changed. The same mopey haircut, infected piercings and chiselled jaw. How on earth did you find this guy attractive?

“It seems not only has Gabriel Murphy done these kinds of jobs before,” Warden began, “But Noah has been the client for several of them.”

You felt sick. You didn’t expect that Noah would actually do something like that. Could Noah have tried to get you killed? After all this time? And he’s done it before?

“So that’s it? We know who ordered the attack?” Elias asked.

“We still don’t know for sure, and we can’t go jumping to conclusions.” He paused for a second.

“There is one way that we’ll know for sure.”

Elias looked at him, suddenly serious.

“No. No, absolutely not.”

“I’m just suggesting-” The warden tried to cut in, but Elias raised his voice.

“No! You can’t do that. I won’t let you!”

You sat there, worried and confused. What was Elias so worked up about?

Elias saw your expression.

“He wants to see the face of a man who’s seen a ghost.”

He took a breath. “It means, if your ex sees you alive, his reaction will tell us that he either knew about the attack or ordered it.”

“Or neither.” Warden added.

“It’s too dangerous.” Elias shook his head.

“If we don’t find out who ordered the attack, it’ll happen again. Do you want to take that chance?”

Elias stood up, his voice hardly below a yell.

“Do you want to take the chance that they could die, if they go looking for the person who wanted them dead?”

“It’s a risk we need to take.” Warden demanded, closing the briefcase and rising to his feet.

“You’re heartless.” Elias scoffed.

“I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

“Best for me? You don’t even care about me.”

“Of course I care, Elias. Which is why we need to find who ordered this attack and this is how we do it.”

“There are other ways!”

“Name one. Whatever it is, it’ll lead us nowhere.”

“I won’t let you.” Elias said weakly. His voice was desperate now. Just a little boy tugging on the hem of his father’s trousers, begging for him to listen.

“It’s not your decision to make.”

The Warden turned to you.

“It’s yours.”

He took the briefcase and started towards the door. “For now, rest. Both of you. I’ll be in contact.”

Once he left, Elias sighed, sinking down back onto the couch next to you.

“You don’t have to do it.” He said, looking at you honestly. “Forget what he said, he’s incompetent. You don’t have to do it, we can find another way.”

“I don’t know..” You answered meekly.

Elias took your hand.

“Please say you won’t do it..” He whispered.

That night Elias couldn’t sleep. He was sick to his stomach on the thought of you getting hurt. He made a promise that he would protect you, not only to you but to himself.

He nearly lost you tonight. And he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He wasn’t going to put you in more danger than he already has.

He’d do anything and everything to keep you safe.

ITS YOUR DECISION:

warden wants you to find your ex, who has ties to the hitman who tried to kill you. if you find him, it’ll tell you whether he or someone else was behind the attack. if you don’t, it’ll only happen again; and the next time elias might not be there to save you.

(let me remind you that y’all have a crazy amount of plot armour)

hope you enjoyed! i’m not even sure if i like this very much but i had the idea about an ex for sooo longgg so i was glad to finally write about it and i hope i incorporated it into the story well?

i made so many drafts for this and hated all of them lol so i just decided to write this and trust that it was good enough 🥹

a/n: yall this is acc so dumb but im tryna be really inclusive and make the reader vague but why am i like worried to offend bald people by writing stuff about the reader’s hair… “He ran his hand through your hair.” “UM☝️BINU I DON’T HAVE HAIR HOW COULD YOU WRITE THAT? 😾”

[ist4rgirlo]

DO TRAITOR BY OLIVIA RODRIGO WITH CONRAD

──────── 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONESHOT !

summary: you and conrad recently broke up and you just saw him on a date with your best friend.

warning: angst, mentions of break up, crying (LMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING)

It's been two weeks since me and Conrad broke up. It wasn't a good breakup. It was a breakup that started with a fight and ended with parting ways. I wouldn't say that I was the best girlfriend, but I was there for him when no one else was.

One day, everything just changed. He wouldn't look at me the same anymore, touch me the same. I thought that it was just that he was having a hard time because of his mom's passing. I did everything to understand him, I became his rock, someone he could lean on.

Brown guilty eyes and little white lies

Yeah, I played dumb but I always knew

I just ignored it and tried to act like everything was still the same. But I could feel the distance growing between us. He was always on his phone whenever we would go out, He wouldn't talk to me like he used to and avoided my questions. I knew something wasn't right, but I didn't want to admit it. I was scared to confront him and find out what was really going on.

Ain't it funny

All the twisted games

All the questions you used to avoid?

That's where it all started. I confronted him. It started with him saying that he was going to change, for the better, for us.

Ain't it funny?

Remember I brought it up

And you told me I was paranoid

Then it became to little fights because he couldn't keep his promise, he told me I was paranoid, I tried to talk to him, I asked him to be truthful and honest with me, but he kept denying and avoiding it.

We argued until it became too much, and I decided to end it. I told him that I was done with it and that I had enough. He just looked at me and walked away. He just turned and didn't even try to fight for what we had. That was the last time I saw him.

Ever since that breakup, his best friend Steven has been helping me to move on. Even before me and Conrad started dating, me and Steven were already friends, he was even the one who introduced us to each other.

Steven has been a source of comfort and support throughout the entire process. Even during me and Conrad's dating phase, Steven was there for me, no matter how bad things got.

He was the type to not always tolerate his bestfriend's actions. He was someone who always defended me from Conrad.

I asked him to accompany me to do groceries, since this was probably the first time I went out after the break up. I didn't know If I could do it myself alone so Steven suggested that he should come with me.

I thought that I was somehow okay now, that some wounds had healed already not until I saw Conrad, my ex-boyfriend, in the store. I froze and couldn't say a word. I thought he was alone, just doing his normal errands not until a girl came up to him, clinging on his arm. I moved a little just to see that girl's face.

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

My heart dropped. It was my best friend, the one who knew everything.

She was also the one who told me that I didn't deserve how Conrad was treating me, but now here she is with him. I watched in disbelief as they laughed and walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart in my hands.

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

I felt betrayed, I felt angry, I felt stupid. So many questions popped into my head like why was it so fast? why me? why my best friend? I wanted answers, but I knew I wasn't going to get them. I felt like I had been played and I was so hurt. I was determined to never trust anyone again.

I just stood there until I felt Steven's hand on my back, I looked up to him. He saw everything, his eyes filled with anger, anger for his best friend. He held me close and said, “I’m sorry.” I knew he wanted to help me, but there was nothing he could do.

I looked away, ashamed. I couldn't bear to see his pity, so I stepped away from him and said, “It's okay, I'll be fine.” He nodded sadly and we both knew I was lying. I turned to go, but he grabbed my hand and said, “Wait.” He held my gaze and said, “You don't have to do this alone.” His words were like a lifeline, and I finally allowed myself to break down and cry.

He held me tightly until I stopped sobbing, then let go. He looked at me with a gentle expression and said, "Remember, I'm here for you." I felt a warmth inside me that I hadn't felt for a long time - the feeling of being understood and supported. I nodded and smiled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. He was just glad that he was there for me, he would do everything just to pick those pieces of my heart and bring them again all together.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Hey!

Could we do tending to wounds after a fight w/ Bucky please?🥺

I can't explain it but this drabble brought me so much peace. I like it a lot ❤️ thank you for requesting it and thank you for all your support 🥰

Tending to Woulds after a Fight (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

BuckyBarnes x Reader

word count: ~900 (a smol boi)

warnings: mentions of blood and injury, Bucky feeling guilty, so so much fluff

Bucky huffed as the two of you opened the door to the safe house. It was quite nice compared to the ones he’d been in before. Of course, Tony Stark wouldn’t even spare a penny when it came to secret hideouts, not even in the middle of nowhere. 

You followed closely behind Bucky, a hand pressed to your thigh, where a blood-soaked cloth was tightly tied around a knife wound. 

“Sit,” Bucky demanded before he roamed the cabinets for medical supplies.

You did as you were told, biting back a hiss when the table beneath your legs shifted the pressure of the makeshift bandage. It was no one’s fault, really. The attackers had come out of nowhere, surprising even Natasha who had eyes on the radar at all times. And because of the thick walls of the bunker, she wasn’t able to tell you through the comms in time. 

Bucky was back with a box of supplies that he put down next to you. Quick to rip open the cut on your pants further, he began to drench the wound in alcohol. Another hiss pulled from your lips. He wasn’t careful enough, Bucky knew that. But his hands were shaking. He hated to see you hurt... hurt because of him. 

“Ow, careful please,” you spoke through your teeth. 

“Sorry.”

“’s alright.” Your hands laid on his - calming, warm. 

Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. Had he not asked you to come with him on the stupid mission - a mission he had called to life after finding out about the base which harbored hydra weaponry - you wouldn’t be bleeding out right now. 

“It’s not your fault,” you reminded firmly after recognizing Bucky’s look. It was the face he’d always make when he punished himself - most times for something that was out of his control. But sadly, Bucky had a difficult relationship with control. He couldn’t distinguish outside forces from his own, or he didn’t want to - a habit he’d adapted after having been responsible for so much pain and violence in the past. 

He looked at you. “I still don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You just nodded silently when Bucky got to work again. He was a lot calmer now. Your gentle reminders always helped him relax. He stitched the wound up quickly, now slightly hunching over the table as he sorted the kit back. 

That’s when you saw it. Bucky had ignored it, taunted by the guilt that threatened to swallow him if he stopped, but the decent-sized cut on his chest dipped the gray shirt beneath his opened combat jacket in deep red. 

Your hand pulled on the zipper. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bucky.” A scolding look.

“I’m okay. I’m good.” He moved to shake you off but brushed the wound instead and the little stutter in his movement along with the clench of his jaw betrayed the stoic attempt.

“You’re not fine, Buck. Let me help.”

“You’re hurt.”

“And why should I be the only one taken care of?” 

He looked away. Slowly, you moved off the table and turned Bucky with you by his shoulders until he was the one positioned as you had just been. One leg supporting your stance and the injured one lightly tapping the ground, you searched the box for the disinfectant again. 

But as Bucky noticed how difficult it was for you to balance on your good leg, he gently pulled you between his legs, one land lingering on your waist to steady you. You looked at him for a moment, watched as his other hand casually rested on the table, and secretly wished it were on your body instead.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky suddenly confessed, averting his eyes when the drenched cotton was pulled from his torso. 

“You don’t have to punish yourself anymore, you know? You never did.” The words rolled over your tongue and Bucky just squeezed your waist in response.

“But I do. I can never make this up.”

You leaned back, hand resting on his shoulder as his began to draw slow strokes on the skin beneath your top. “It’s not for you to make up.” You whispered, forehead leaning against his in the intimate moment you shared. 

“Then why does it feel that way?” His voice was breaking with tears when he asked the question that occupied his mind so many times before. He had fallen lost in the feeling of uncertainty trying to answer it on his own.

“Because you’ve been made to believe.” But you had the answer ready, as always, a soothing reminder to stop beating himself up every once in a while. 

Bucky nodded weakly when you got to cleaning his injury, one hand always lingering on his skin and it calmed his heartbeat completely. He watched as you worked on the cut, taking care of him like no one else had ever done and he fell back into a state of awe - familiar almost because it always happened when you were around him. 

You stuck a big band-aid on his chest when you were done, but your hand lingered on the heated patch of skin. 

“All done,” you whispered when Bucky’s eyes captured you once again. He did that often, but you wouldn’t complain. 

“Thank you,” he responded just as carefully, his other hand coming to wrap around you until he hugged you fully, his head buried in your chest and your hands stroking over his hair. 

You stayed that way for a while, just gently soothing hands up and down, breaths syncing - calm, and somehow... finally at peace.

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