#and lizzie saying she loves hope
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mattzerella-sticks · 1 year ago
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We know the lasso of lies makes any lie the user holds come true, makes people believe the lie.
What if that is how Lizzie was born?
Someone, or even Diana, says that she has a daughter while holding the lasso and because she's holding it the lie becomes 'truth'.
It would also make sense why she would even keep the lasso of lies as maybe she needs to hold it to stay tethered to reality, to stay alive. Especially since it's wrapped around her more like an accessory than equipment.
And also why she feels so disconnected from her 'mother' Diana, because Diana is a woman of truth and she was born of lies.
Plus this would also make it so Diana doesn't have to 'spend time' pregnant in the world of comics, people will believe she had already been pregnant, and also do away with any questions of who Lizzie's dad is (unless she makes the lie while holding the rope with someone, or the 'King of America' created her to burden Diana and so he is technically her father).
I hate that I'm thinking of this. I blame all the artists I like announcing their own variant covers for the Trinity special dropping in 2024. Shows how much DC really wants this to be a success + want to sell as many as possible using variant covers to point to as proof of concept (like they're doing with the WW series rn - why wait until NOW for Jim Lee to do the final piece of the triptych).
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bibridlizzie · 1 year ago
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did lizzie ever kill anyone in legacies (who she didn't know would come back)? i just started thinking about it and it's very possible i'm forgetting something but i don't think she did?
#and like. if she didn't i think she might be the only one. mg killed landon (and yes he came back and yes mg was out of control and felt#awful about it but he did kill landon without knowing he'd come back.)#finch killed her grandfahter which i am extremely hesitant to count esp bc i would argue that he really killed himself there#but the werewolf curse disagrees with me so. i'm counting it idk.#josie killed people (lizzie and alyssa. i'm not sure if there are any others?)#hope killed lizzie (not knowing she'd come back) and that one bar vampire and some others i'm sure i don't remember everything yknow#do we know if kaleb killed anyone? i wouldn't be surprised if he had at the beginning but idk.#i know he says stuff about not wanting cleo to see his past so like. i would not be surprised if he killed someone at some point.#though it could also just be about how he used to look at humans in s1 but. idk. and jed killed his dad (justified but still true. i'm not#Just tlaking about unjustified killings). ben and jen idk about. i have a hard time believing Jen's never killed anyone but idk about ben.#he was gonna kill kaleb but it didn't happen so. yknow#also cleo is... complicated bc like. her AND hope killed cleo killed ken like it was a group effort. but if we put ken to the side then#there's another complicated thing which is that like. i was talking about actually killing someone and i was talking about not knowing#they'd come back but like i meant like not REALLY taking someone's life away and so the whole cleo trying to kill hope thing#is a bit complicated. bc she didn't Actually kill her but it wasn't like with lizzie where lizzie stopped herself. she was only stopped bc#of hope and then landon she was fully gonna do it. and she Did know hope was gonna come back but to me that's different than when lizzie#snaps hope's neck knowing she'll come back or when jed snaps ben's neck knowing he'll come back bc like. it's just different yknow#jed knew ben would come back the same and lizzie knew hope would come back the same. it's more like incapacitation than murder in#practicality. but what cleo was trying to do WAS taking Hope's human life away. it was taking something away from her as opposed to just#taking her out for a minute. i GET cleo's reasoning. i don't hate her and i'm not mad at her at all. genuinely love her. but i do think#that the whole hope thing should kinda count since she had every intention to go through with it#i don't know if landon or raf ever killed anybody. i don't think they did actually. i kinda forgot about them tbh. oh but for hope#she did also kill landon. didn't think about that#updating to say raf killed his girlfriend and i just completely forgot about that? when the killing thing is literally a part of the#werewolf stuff. lmao. and landon killed the necromancer so. they have actually both killed someone.
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lovelookspretty · 22 days ago
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hate to be lame
rafe cameron x reader
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— in which y/n, caught in a situationship with rafe, struggles to admit she might love him, constantly holding back her feelings while fearing that confessing could make things more complicated.
inspired by: “hate to be lame” (major) & “ceilings” (minor) by lizzy mcalpine
warnings: super long omfg, me treating this like a music video again LMAO, situationships, swearing, mention of drug use, no hard concepts just rafe who can’t commit to you (yet)
authors note: this has been in the works for a good few weeks lowkey. i literally studied lizzy mcalpine mvs top to BOTTOM to rly portray this mini story as best as i can. hope u guys enjoy!!
i tried to add as much as i could for ppl to notice (hopefully), but ESPECIALLY like parallels of the beginning n the end of the oneshot with the opening of the door and saying “hey”!! i wanted this to be little short film core
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your room is cold, and you feel your fingers tingling as you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. the clock ticks softly, but each minute feels slower than the last.
you aren’t sure why, but today you’re more anxious than usual, counting down the seconds until rafe shows up. it’s not like you have any real plans, just the usual aimless drive or hanging out.
but the thought of seeing him again—his smile, the way he looks at you, even when he’s not saying anything—makes waiting almost unbearable.
you’ve been more than friends but less than boyfriend and girlfriend for the past five months now. you know it’s wrong, but you know you’ll do the same thing you’ll be doing until you reach six months: push it aside and just enjoy the moment.
you can’t tell if rafe is only there for the pleasure, but if that’s the case then you wouldn’t be hearing about his dreams or the way he struggles with trust. and you’re foolish enough to believe that maybe he’s just scared, and that’s why he can’t commit.
right on time, his texts come in one after the other.
‘ hey ’
‘ otw ’
‘ 5 minutes ’
a faint smile tugs at your lips as you send him a quick ‘okay,’ watching the message sit there, unread. but when the notification changes to ‘read’ and there’s no reply, you drop your phone on your bed and get up.
just as you’re finishing, the faint sound of a knock echoes through the house, and you know that it’s him. you head downstairs quickly, and when you finally reach the front door, your hand hesitates on the handle, but you push them down and swing it open, revealing him standing there. his gaze flickers over you, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“hey,” he says.
and there’s that smile again, “hey.”
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rafe’s ring-clad hand grips the steering wheel tightly, veins visible beneath his skin as his knuckles flex. his other arm is draped out the open window, resting easily on the door. you glance over at him, watching the way he seems so effortless behind the wheel, like he was born to be in control, and the engine hums beneath you.
you can’t help but steal glances at him, the way his jaw sets when he focuses, the flicker of light as it catches on his ring every time he turns the wheel. you wonder if he knows how these small details, the smallest shifts in his posture, have started to consume your thoughts.
you know what this is supposed to be—casual, undefined—but sitting here, so close to him, makes it harder to convince yourself that it’s just that. just casual.
and sometimes it makes you wonder—does he feel it too? does he fight the same pull you do?
you and rafe end up at a two-story building, bright and welcoming downstairs. it’s one of those places you’d mentioned a few times, new on the island, somewhere you’d been dying to try.
upstairs, you grab a table in the open air, no roof above, just the sky. pillars hold up a net laced with flowers and plants, the same ones woven into the building’s logo on the far wall. a bar counter curves along that wall, half-circling it. it’s gorgeous.
you’re laughing, enjoying lunch with him. he looks beautiful, just by being there, the way he always has. doesn’t matter what you are—friends, strangers, stuck in this limbo of a situationship—you’ve always felt this way about him.
rafe leans forward, arms crossed on the table, telling you a story that keeps you laughing, each detail funnier than the last.
eventually, the day drifts into the afternoon, and you find yourselves in town, just hanging out. you drag him into a bookstore, then a music store, even a museum, wandering from place to place. hours later, when you’re hungry again, you make a quick stop a small convenience store.
you’re tucking your phone into your purse when you glance outside, noticing the sky’s turned dark, and more importantly, it’s raining.
“alright, catch you later, simon. thanks!” rafe says, grabbing the snacks off the counter. he raises his free hand in a quick wave as he turns, glancing down at you with a smirk while you follow him out.
rafe hands you your snacks, and you take them with a small smile, watching him closely to see his reaction when he realizes it started raining while you were inside. his brows raise as he looks outside, then down at you again. both of you are thinking the same thing—you parked a block away, and now you’ll have to rush to the car without getting soaked.
you pop a piece of candy in your mouth, staring at the rain across the street, when rafe reaches out. “c’mon,” he murmurs, and you take it without hesitation.
the two of you make a break for it, trying to walk as fast as possible without slipping or getting in the way of traffic. the rain pelts down around you, but you’re laughing, and rafe’s grinning as you both duck under the first marquee for cover.
you both continue walking, the car finally coming into view just up ahead. he has to jog around to get to the driver's side. as he moves, you step out from under the last marquee and into the rain, letting it soak through your clothes and into your skin. you tilt your head up, eyes clamped shut, nose scrunched, savoring the moment, even if it’s just a few seconds of quiet, cold rain.
“get in the car,” rafe calls out, his voice cutting through the sound, and you glance over at him, already opening the door.
you shoot him a look, digging into your bag of candy, before tossing a piece at him like he’s ruined the moment. it bounces off his shoulder and he slides into the car without another word, but you can tell he’s amused. with a sigh, you climb into the passenger seat, still dripping wet.
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before you know it, the car slows, the tires crunching against the gravel as rafe pulls up to his house. it’s massive, even more so than you remember. cold and impressive, it stands there like a fortress—his world.
for a second, you’re lost in thought. rafe pulls into the garage, parking to avoid the rain still pouring outside. he gets out, crumpling the empty chip bag in his hand, twisting off the lid to his drink with the other to take a few gulps before shutting the car door.
you linger inside a bit longer, popping another candy into your mouth as your eyes wander around the camerons’ garage—messy, yet somehow still clean and wide open.
rafe rounds the front of the car, heading for the door that leads into the house. without a word, he slips inside, leaving you behind in the garage. he does leave his keys on the table beside the door, trusting you to lock the car for him since you’re still in there.
you sit there a moment, your head tilting as you look over at the driver’s seat, replaying the small moments in your mind—running across the street in the rain, how he’s paid for you, or the simple ‘hey’ when he picked you up earlier.
a small, soft smile touches your lips before you finally get out of the car. you crush the candy wrapper in your fist, grab the keys to lock the car, and slip inside the house, the garage door clicking shut behind you.
after hours of being at the cameron’s, only the soft patter of raindrops now begins tapping against the glass, just as you settle into the familiar bay window. you tuck your legs beneath you, leaning your head against the window frame as you stare out into the backyard.
you’ve sat here so many times before—usually with sarah, the two of you giggling about nothing in particular, watching the sky and talking about anything. but tonight, it’s just you and rafe.
the house feels quieter without her, without anyone really, except for the occasional murmur of rafe’s voice as he takes his phone call from the other room. he was quick to excuse himself when the phone rang, retreating upstairs where you couldn't overhear. not that you’d pry, but it’s not like you don’t know about rafe’s involvement with deals in the outerbanks, drugs, cash, or both. you turn a blind eye.
he walks back into the room eventually, his footsteps quiet but still pulling your focus from the window. you feel him glance at you, almost like he's about to say something, but he hesitates when he notices the way you’re sitting there, staring out at the rain.
he knows you too well—years of history have given him that advantage, not just the past few months of this undefined mess you're both tangled in. he’s seen you like this before, especially today, always itching to be outside when the rain falls, drawn to it in a way he’s never really understood.
without a word, he walks over to the door leading to the backyard. the soft creak of the door handle catches your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. you watch as he stands there for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe, looking at you.
no words pass between you, but the way he gestures outside, a playful tilt of his head, says everything. it’s almost like a silent ‘after you’ as if he’s jokingly daring you to go out into the rain.
a smile breaks across your face, and before you know it, you’re up. you brush past him, feeling his presence right behind you as you step outside. the cool rain meets your skin, soaking into your clothes almost instantly, but you don’t care. rafe is close, following you out into the yard, his chuckle barely audible over the sound of the rain as it picks up.
the two of you don’t need to say anything. you just move, running across the wet grass, spinning around to feel the individual drops as they fall on your face. you pause every now and then, standing in place, arms spread out wide to feel the rain cover you like a blanket. but the peace never lasts long before rafe is at your side again, tackling you to the ground with a sudden burst of energy. you both fall, rolling across the grass in a fit of laughter, his weight pressing into you briefly before you push him off with a shove.
you end up on your backs, lying there side by side in the rain. your breath comes in short bursts from all the laughing, and there’s a calmness that settles over the two of you. you turn your head to look at him, and there’s something in the way he looks back at you, rain dripping down his face. it’s just you and him, the world around you disappearing into the sound of the rain, the hum of your heartbeat in your ears.
in that moment, you feel something deeper. something that goes beyond the undefined territory you’ve been navigating for months. there’s a connection—stronger than before, pulling you in, making you wonder how you ever let yourself fall this far. you feel it with every glance, every brush of his hand against yours as you lay there.
and then, almost without warning, it’s over. you’re in the car again, the engine quietly rumbling as rafe drives you home. the rain hasn’t let up, the windshield wipers swishing back and forth, and the streetlights blur past as you sit in silence.
you sit in the passengers seat, wrapped in rafe’s oversized hoodie, the warmth of it settling against your skin, but the comfort feels fleeting. your clothes had been drenched from the rain, and now, you’re dressed in his.
you don’t want it to end. when you were out there with him, laughing in the rain, time seemed to stretch. it was simple, effortless—like the world stopped just for you. you find yourself wishing it could stay that way, even for just a little longer.
but now, here you are, in his car, the night creeping closer to its end as he drives you home. you rest your head against the seat, staring out at the blurry glow of the streetlights through the rain-streaked windows. in your mind, the memories play on repeat, each one a familiar echo of nights like this.
there’s a pattern—you recognize it now. the closeness, the laughter, the silence when neither of you acknowledges what this really is. a situationship, something more than friendship but never quite a relationship. yet, despite it all, you don’t care. being with him in this confusing, undefined space feels better than being without him.
the car slows as he pulls up to your house, and the quiet reality hits. you glance at him, but he doesn’t say anything, just pulls out his phone when he gets a phone call, but he glances at you when you just sit there. it’s enough. you step out into the cool air, the dampness of the rain lingering in the night as you head inside.
the house is quiet, save for the faint clink of dishes in the kitchen. you walk in, and as you make your way to the fridge, your mom looks up from the counter, her eyes catching on your borrowed clothes. “whose clothes are those?” she asks, her voice casual but curious.
you shrug, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. “rafes,” you reply simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you don’t stick around for her reaction, turning and heading for the stairs, the sound of your footsteps fading as you make your way up.
as soon as you reach your room, you dive onto your bed and roll onto your back. your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling your attention. with a sigh, you pull it out and open a group chat with your friends. for a second, your fingers hover over the screen, and then, without thinking too much, you begin typing.
how do you know when ur in
your fingers pause over the last word. the L word. it feels too heavy, too real to even finish typing. your thoughts stumble, second-guessing. do you really want their advice on this? what would they even say? maybe it’s not something your friends can help you with. not this.
with a slight shake of your head, you delete the message, watching the cursor blink on an empty screen before you lock your phone and drop it onto your chest.
just nights later, you get word that some pogues are throwing a party at the boneyard, but it’s not just any—it’s sarah’s friends.
you look over to rafe as he gets out of the car, his eyes scanning the beach. topper and kelce are already talking by the car, but rafe’s focus is sharp, as if nothing really starts until he steps into the mix.
he walks around to your side, opening the door and offering his hand. you take it so he can help you out of the car. his grip is firm, the way he holds you close as you step onto the soft sand beneath your shoes.
his arm is slung across your shoulder, and he gives you a playful shake as he leads the way toward the party.
even though he doesn’t say a word, the pressure of his touch says enough. it’s protective, almost possessive, like he’s staking a claim. you glance at him.
he wants you close, needs you to be within his reach, and you know it’s not just casual. it’s the way he is, the way he’s always been with you—controlling, protective. he walks slightly ahead, his arm guiding you forward as if he’s leading you, ensuring you’re exactly where he wants you to be.
and despite the way your body tenses beneath his touch, despite the chill that runs through you as his fingers press into your back, you let him. you tell yourself it’s just rafe being rafe—always wanting control, always needing to know where you are. it’s intoxicating in a way, the way he holds you there, the way he’s so sure that you belong with him.
your skin prickles, not because you’re afraid, but because there’s a part of you that knows this isn’t normal—this isn’t how it should feel. yet, despite that little voice in the back of your mind, you follow him. you always do.
you make your way into the heart of the party with your friends. the air smells like salt and smoke, laughter and music filling the space between the flickering bonfires. rafe’s hand slips from yours, but he doesn’t stray far, keeping close as he weaves his way through the crowd.
people greet him—some with a nod, some with a smile—but it’s like there’s an invisible line drawn around the two of you, keeping the rest of the world at arm’s length. and you don’t mind. not when it feels this good.
it doesn’t take long before rafe comes back with some drinks, and without missing a beat, he pulls you in closer to him. you laugh, sip your drink, and enjoy the chaos of the night, but there’s a quiet satisfaction that hums underneath it all. it’s the feeling of practically being his—of knowing that he knows it too.
the night spirals into a blur. somewhere between the music and the shots, you’ve lost count of how much you’ve had to drink. the warmth of the alcohol buzzes through your veins, making everything feel softer, the edges of reality blurring. but topper is there to catch you when you start to sway just a little too much.
“you okay?” he asks, his voice warm as a faint smile appears on his face.
“yeah, just a little tipsy,” you giggle, leaning into him, feeling the world tilt slightly.
as the night wears on, you find yourself laughing at everything, dancing wildly under the stars, the sound of waves crashing nearby blending with the music. but by the end of the night, it’s clear you’re done. you’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the way rafe is nowhere to be seen half of the time.
“this party is lame,” rafe comments as he finds you, topper, and kelce by a bonfire. he’s holding one of the red solo cups but he’s uninterested.
kelce shrugs, “to you, maybe. ‘cause there’s no snow.”
rafe weaves his way through the boys to reach you. “you’re staying with me tonight,” he says, and you don’t argue. you just nod, letting him guide you to the car, his hand gripping yours like an anchor.
once you reach his car, he opens the door for you, his hand lingering on your waist as you slide into the passenger seat. “you really had a good time, huh?” he teases, starting the engine.
“best night ever,” you reply, a goofy grin spreading across your face. you look over at him, feeling a warmth blooming in your chest, the alcohol making everything feel more intense. you just wish you saw more of him that night.
when you arrive at his house, he helps you out of the car. you stumble slightly but he catches you. “easy, easy,” he mutters, leading you inside.
even when his words are dry, and his touch is barely there, you cling to moments like this, convincing yourself it means something.
still, being this close feels good. it always does. you want to tell him—everything. to spill out the truth that’s been gnawing at you for weeks, months. but you know better. don’t ruin the moment, you think, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. it’s too good to ruin. too fragile to risk.
you want to tell him everything, to let it all out. but you can’t. not when he’s like this, not when he looks at you like nothing’s changed.
and now, you’re lying in his bed, the room spinning just a little. the pillows are soft beneath your head, and rafe is standing at the edge of the bed, watching you. his expression is unreadable, but there’s a slight furrow in his brow, like he’s trying to figure something out.
“just get some rest. you’ll feel better in the morning,” he says.
he’s standing over you, and for a moment, your thoughts are louder than the room. he looks at you like he always does—unreadable. it feels like the words are stuck, heavy and burning at the back of your throat. maybe he already knows. he has to. with how often you’re by his side, how you’ve never left, even when he’s cold and distant. it’s so obvious, isn’t it?
“okay. thank you for taking care of me,” you murmur, your words slurring slightly, the alcohol clouding your mind. you look at him, trying to read his expression, wanting to see something—anything—that suggests he cares.
you bite your tongue, trying to keep it all inside, but then the words start slipping, slow at first, like they have a mind of their own. “i love—”
you catch yourself, the words teetering on the edge of your lips. your heart races as you realize what you almost let slip, a rush of fear flooding through you. what are you doing? your heart is pounding and you feel like within a second, you’re able to turn completely sober.
silence. it’s so loud it’s almost suffocating. you force yourself to look up, desperately searching his face for a reaction, anything. but there’s nothing. his expression doesn’t change, not even a flicker of surprise or discomfort. just that same calm, indifferent look he always has.
it’s like he didn’t even register it—or something worse.
“go to sleep,” he says, his voice flat. he takes a step back, glancing towards the door, like he’s already moving on. “i’ll be back.”
all you can do is nod, your heart still racing from the near-slip. “okay,” you whisper, and you pull the blanket tighter around you.
you can’t breathe. you can’t move. your heart is still racing as you watch him leave, the door closing softly behind him. you sink back into the bed, pulling the covers over yourself, but the warmth is gone.
your head spins with everything unsaid, and you can’t shake the feeling that it’s too late.
he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care the way you do. the words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. a chill runs down your spine as you replay the moment in your head, the way he dismissed your feelings without even a second glance.
he doesn’t care that you almost admitted you loved him? that, or . . . yeah, rafe already knows. and in some way, that scares you more than anything.
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you can remember the first time you met rafe—back when you were kids, in middle school. you’d known of the cameron family, but you’d never been around enough to meet rafe specifically. for so long, it felt like you were in two different worlds. but in middle school, rafe finally noticed you, only to say something rude.
it stung, but you were kids. that was the odd beginning of your friendship. it was rough at first, barely getting along most of the time as barely acquaintances. still, you liked being friends with sarah, even if she was a few years younger. you two weren’t super close because of the age gap, but once you hit high school, you didn’t mind looking out for her when she needed it.
only then did rafe approach you again since middle school. he told you to stay away from his sister, as if you were some kind of bad influence. you weren’t, and you told him as much, calling him stupid. that was the end of it—for that day, at least.
you two shared more classes that junior year than you would’ve liked, which meant seeing him nearly every day. you never went out of your way to be rude unless he started it, and he always did. if he saw you, he usually took the chance to say or do something to get under your skin. still, it wasn’t like he was out to get you—it was more like an unspoken routine.
things only lightened up in senior year. you ended up helping him at some volunteer event he didn’t want to go to, and neither did you. you’d brought a flask, figuring it would take the edge off the boredom, and it helped break the ice between you two.
by the next week, you crossed paths again. you drove yourself to and from school, but your tire went flat one day, probably from driving over something sharp in the parking lot while pulling in during the morning.
you didn’t know how to change it, and as luck would have it, rafe spotted you on his way to his friend’s car. he stopped and helped you out. ever since that day, it felt like something shifted, and the foundation for your friendship started to take root.
“y/n,” rafe calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. you immediately turn to your window, tearing off your blankets as you make your way over to peek between the blinds.
there he is, leaning casually against the door of his truck, chewing some gum and fiddling with the wrapper. without wasting time, you rush to pull on your shoes and grab your bag, ready to head out.
now, you’re leaning against the rail of kelce’s boat, staring into your cup as the wind whips around you. it’s the usual sandbar party, and you’re already en route, cruising across the water.
the sun is bright, forcing you to squint when you glance up, scanning the boat for familiar faces. kooks everywhere—laughing, drinking, pre-gaming before the afternoon on the beach. in one hand, you clutch your drink and a pair of sunglasses, in the other, your phone.
you absentmindedly toss your hair off your shoulder, then peer over the rail to watch the water rush past beneath you. two people approach—a boy and a girl, probably friends of kelce’s since everyone got an invite to ride with him.
they linger nearby, the girl shifting nervously until she finally speaks up, “i like your top.” her words come out fast, almost as if she’s afraid you won’t hear her.
you glance her way, taking her in with a brief nod. “i like your . . . shoes,” you reply, offering a small smile. the girl’s wearing sneakers—not exactly the best choice for a day at the beach, but you’re just poking fun.
she seems to miss the teasing tone, accepting the compliment with a hesitant, “thanks.”
the boy steps forward now, smoothly joining the conversation. “how long you been in the outer banks?” he asks, like it’s no big deal, just another casual question.
you tilt your head slightly, thinking for a moment. “most of my life. you and your girl new to the island?”
the boy looks quickly at the girl, and she immediately looks away. “no, we’re just friends,” he says, glancing back at you while you watch them both closely. there’s something unspoken between them, though—especially when the girl throws him a quick, hurt look. clearly, there’s more to their story.
you extend your hand, breaking the tension. “y/n.”
“jasper,” he says, shaking your hand, and for a moment, his gaze locks with yours. but your attention quickly shifts to the girl beside him. you hold out your hand, waiting for her introduction, and after a brief pause, she reaches out.
“i’m isabelle,” she mumbles softly, her voice almost getting lost in the wind.
you give her a genuine smile. the teasing earlier probably didn’t help, but this feels like a better moment. you shake her hand, but something catches your eye. the light glints off the bracelet on her wrist, a delicate piece of jewelry that stands out against her skin. instinctively, you pause, twisting her hand gently to get a better look.
“that’s really pretty,” you say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. isabelle looks a little flustered, glancing down at the bracelet herself before offering an awkward smile.
“my mom gave it to me recently,” she explains, her voice soft, almost like she’s revealing something personal.
you raise your eyebrows, nodding like you figured. “she has good taste,” you say, pulling your hand away and giving her a playful grin. “i wish i had one like that.”
isabelle smiles, this time with a bit more warmth, as you take a sip of your drink. beside you, jasper checks his beer can, frowning slightly.
“i’m out,” he says, looking toward where kelce and rafe are talking. “kelce said he had some in the cooler. be right back.”
you watch him go, your eyes drifting toward rafe as he talks with kelce. for a second, you catch him looking at you, the briefest flicker of attention before he refocuses on jasper approaching. jasper’s probably asking where the cooler is.
you glance over at isabelle, who’s now standing beside you, her posture awkward, her drink clutched tightly in her hand.
you tilt your head at her, curiosity getting the better of you. “is he sure that you and him are just friends?”
isabelle looks startled, her eyes widening as she whips back around to face you, blinking rapidly like she’s been caught off guard. she looks away, the blush creeping into her cheeks as she stares down at her drink.
“he’s sure,” she mumbles, her voice small. “i’m not.”
you wince. the way she said it, the quiet frustration—it all sounds way too familiar. but you wave the thought off. it’s not about you right now.
isabelle looks at you, her lips twitching upward in a shy smile. “i’ve liked him since we were kids,” she admits, the words spilling out now like she’s been holding onto them for too long. “we’re only here for the summer, and our parents are best friends with kelce’s, so . . . i don’t know. it’s just complicated. i don’t think he can even read any of the hints i throw at him.”
you place a delicate hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. “well, if he doesn’t see that, then he’s stupid,” you say with a small smile, your tone light but firm. “seriously, he’s an idiot if he can’t tell.”
you give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “he’ll either figure it out, or you’ll find someone who’s not blind,” you say, shrugging. “either way, you’ve got it.”
isabelle shakes her head and looks down at her drink, swirling it gently, the ice clinking softly against the plastic cup. she’s quiet for a second, like she’s not sure if she should even bother saying the rest. but then she lets out a sigh, giving in.
“you know,” she starts, voice low but steady, “sometimes i wonder if he even notices. like, i’ve tried. i really have. but sometimes i feel like he’s just choosing not to see it. maybe it’s easier for him that way, not having to deal with what comes next. and . . . what if i’m wasting all this time waiting for something that’s never going to happen? that scares me the most. i don’t want to look back and feel stupid for hoping.”
isabelle glances up, her brows furrowed, a soft laugh escaping her that sounds more like a breath of frustration. “but what really gets me is the fear of losing him completely. like, what if this—this friendship, or whatever it is—is all we’re meant to be? if i tell him, and he doesn’t feel the same . . . i ruin everything. so maybe i should just keep this, even if it’s not everything i want, than lose him altogether.”
you listen in silence, your chest tightening as isabelle’s words sink in. you nod slightly, acknowledging how close to home they hit. it’s like she’s pulled the thoughts straight from your own mind and laid them out between you.
all those late nights you spent wondering the same thing about rafe, the moments you brushed aside the hints you were giving him, thinking it was easier for him not to notice. you regret the other night at the party. that’s probably the furthest you’ve gotten to practically telling him how you feel.
because dealing with what comes after—if there is even any after—would change everything. maybe you’re scared of that too. of ruining whatever it is you already have, even if it’s not enough anymore.
isabelle takes an innocent sip of her drink, like she hadn’t just spilled her deepest fears. she glances around, shrugging softly. “anyway, that’s how my love life is going.” she laughs, but it’s hollow, like she’s trying to play it off as nothing, like it doesn’t really matter.
you don’t respond right away. instead, you find yourself staring at her, watching as she shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with the vulnerability she just shared. your gaze drifts, following the trail of sunlight dancing over the water as the boat cuts through it.
isabelle’s words replay in your mind, over and over, threading together with every uncertain feeling you’ve been holding onto about rafe. you’ve been walking this fine line with him for what feels like forever, stuck between wanting more and being afraid of losing what you already have. and now, you’re not sure which way you’re leaning anymore.
you pause for a moment, thinking. the words hang on your tongue, but you’re not sure if you should ask. finally, you look at isabelle, your voice careful, like you’re testing the waters. “so you’re just never gonna tell him?” you ask, the question feeling like it’s aimed at both of you.
isabelle shakes her head quickly, like she didn’t mean for it to sound that definite. “no, not never,” she says, shrugging. “this isn’t something i’d take to my grave or anything. maybe when we’re older, when things aren’t so clustered for us right now. i think if we were around each other more often, maybe then i’d say something, but that’s not something i can risk under our circumstances right now.”
you just nod, absorbing her words. there it is—that’s what sets you and isabelle apart.
you get it, the fear of telling someone how you feel, whether it’s like or love, especially when the timing is off or the distance makes it easier to hide. but you and rafe? there’s no distance, no gap keeping you apart. you’ve been inseparable for years, always around each other, no excuses. and yet, here you are.
you blink a few times, but you don’t say anything, the weight of it settling between you and isabelle like a silent understanding. you both turn your attention to the horizon as the boat nears the shore of an island not far from figure eight.
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you lean into rafe’s side, his arm draped casually across your shoulder, pulling you in closer, while he talks to the group—kelce, topper, isabelle, jasper—all standing around in a loose circle.
laughter flows freely, and the air smells like sunscreen and the salt of the ocean. people all around have set up umbrellas, towels, coolers—transforming the stretch of beach into a party that’s as chaotic as it is carefree. music blares from portable speakers, the kind you feel in your chest, vibrating through the sand.
volleyball games erupt further down the beach, and the sound of drunken laughter and splashing water fills the air as people float lazily on oversized inflatables.
someone cheers as a girl stumbles down to the water, pulling up her shirt in a flash of skin before diving in, the moment met with more hollering and clapping. it's all easy, light—everyone’s just letting loose, and you’re swept up in it.
you find yourself spending most of the afternoon alongside isabelle, both of you lounging in the sun, sipping drinks and sharing amused glances as the day carries on. there’s this unspoken ease between you now, something that started back on the boat. you talk without pressure, just floating through the day’s moments together.
but there are moments with rafe too. he finds you in the crowd, his hand slipping into yours as he tugs you away, guiding you through the chaos. he hugs you close, his breath warm against your ear as he leans in to say something you can’t quite hear over the noise, but it doesn’t matter. wherever he goes, you follow, and the two of you string each other along from one spot to the next, like you’re tethered together.
and then there’s that kiss. it happens just before you leave the sandbar, when the sun has started to dip lower in the sky. it’s abrupt, initiated by rafe, but it feels like something he needed to do, like he couldn’t let the day end without it.
his lips are warm, lingering on yours longer than usual, and everything else falls away. it’s like you’re the only two people left on the beach, the distant chatter and music fading into the background.
when he pulls back, it’s only for a second before he leans in again, his hands tightening on your waist, not wanting to let you go. you stare up at him after, your heart thudding in your chest, adoration in your eyes as you hold his gaze.
but now you’re home, and the contrast is stark. the dim lighting making the space feel colder, emptier. the energy of the sandbar is gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet. you sit on your couch, your leg bounces up and down, restless, as you stare blankly ahead.
the silence of your empty house is deafening. the faint ringing in your ears from the silence draws you into your thoughts—back to yesterday, back to the way rafe held you close, the way his presence felt like an anchor.
you felt safe, maybe even whole, when you were with him. but now, sitting here alone, the difference is almost suffocating. it’s strange how quickly it can shift—one day surrounded by people, warmth, noise, and the next, alone with only your thoughts, replaying every detail, every touch, every feeling.
the way things are now, it’s safe. there’s no risk, no line to cross that you can’t uncross. but if you were to tell him, to lay it all out there, could you handle the fallout?
because what if he doesn’t feel the same?
but then he kissed you. like he did yesterday, so suddenly, so effortlessly, pulling you into him like it’s second nature. it’s like he knew exactly when to pull you back in, just when you were starting to think too much. and just like that, all those questions you’ve been holding onto, the ones that sit heavy on your chest every time you’re near him, dissolve. because when he kisses you like that, it’s easy to forget everything else.
they vanish, swallowed by the feeling of him, so close, making you feel like maybe you don’t need to figure it all out right now.
but even then, just for a second, it’s on the tip of your tongue. you almost say it, almost let it slip, but you stop yourself. you always do.
i love you.
you convince yourself it’s not the right time, not the right moment, or maybe it’s not something you should say at all. and just when you’re about to pull away, to push the thought down like you always do, he kissed you again.
and just like that, you’re right back where you started. questioning, doubting, but never fully letting go. the feelings circling around inside you, waiting for the next time you’re close enough for them to surface again.
the next few days blur together, each one melting into the next. it feels as though you’re standing still, trapped in your bubble of emotions while everyone else rushes past you, moving faster and faster.
your best friend’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, calling your name with a playful urgency, like she’s been doing for the past few moments. you blink, looking away from the raindrops on the window and finally focusing on her, the light in her eyes breaking through your haze.
“what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, still slightly disoriented.
she laughs, a warm sound that pulls you back into the moment. as she continues talking, you lean into your pillow, letting the comfort envelop you.
the conversation drifts toward summer plans—what they have been up to, the adventures they’ve had. your friend shares her own stories of beach trips and spontaneous late-night drives.
“we should definitely go to that new froyo place tomorrow,” she suggests. “i heard they have all these crazy flavors. oh my g— remember last summer when we tried to make our own?”
you smile at the memory, letting it wash over you. just as you’re settling into the rhythm of the conversation, your mom pops her head in, breaking the moment. “dinner’s almost ready,” she calls from the doorway.
“thanks, mom,” you murmur, your voice soft as you turn your head slightly to give her a smile. she nods, and with that, she slips away, leaving the door ajar.
as soon as she’s gone, you lean back down, resting your elbow on your pillow and propping your head on your hand. your gaze drifts to your phone, almost expectantly, fingers itching to scroll through your notifications. you’re not even sure what you’re hoping for, but the silence feels heavy, and a part of you longs for a message.
your friend watches you closely, an amused smile creeping onto her lips. “do you want to text him?” she asks casually, the knowing glimmer in her eyes saying she’s onto you.
“him?” you feign innocence, raising an eyebrow. there really isn’t anyone else in your life who fits the bill like rafe, but you can’t just assume. she, however, sees right through you.
“come on, y/n. you know who i’m talking about.” she gets comfortable on your bed, sinking into the pillows as she watches you, her interest piqued. “what’s the deal with him anyway?”
you hesitate, slow to respond, feeling the weight of the question. you can’t seem to pinpoint how to explain what’s been going on. “things are good,” you say finally, the words feeling vague and hollow even as they leave your lips.
the look on your best friend’s face shifts immediately, arching an eyebrow. “good? really?” she prompts, tilting her head as if trying to pry more out of you.
you roll your eyes, exasperated by her unwavering gaze. “fine, it’s complicated,” you admit, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. you grab your phone, sinking deeper into your pillow, scrolling through your notifications as if the action could distract you from your tangled thoughts about rafe.
or maybe even check if you even have a notification from him.
she watches you scroll through your phone, her eyes flicking to the slight frown on your face. she doesn't speak right away, just sits there, observing. then, she reaches over, placing her hand gently over your phone and setting it back down on the bed.
“nevermind. you know, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy overthinking like this,” she says softly, shifting to face you more. “sometimes you just gotta rip the band-aid off and stop worrying about what might go wrong. otherwise, you’ll be stuck forever.”
you glance at her, unsure if you want to hear it. but she’s already readjusting her position, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues. “god knows i would’ve done things differently with cooper, but you know.”
you lean your head back, letting out a dramatic exhale at the mention of his name—cooper. you’ve heard enough stories to last a lifetime. but you pull your head forward again, looking at her as she reaches over once more, this time placing her hand over yours.
“i just think you should really do it,” she says, her tone more serious now.
you sigh, rubbing your eyes with the arm you’ve been propping yourself up on.
“whatever,” you mumble, shaking off the tension. “let’s go eat dinner. i’m starving.”
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after dinner, your friend excuses herself to use the bathroom, leaving you and your mom at the table. your mom finishes up her plate before glancing at you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “was it good?” she asks.
you don’t say anything, just smile softly and nod. she smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling with affection as she gets up to collect the dishes from the table, already moving to tidy up and call it a day.
you stand too, silently helping her by stacking the plates and utensils as she handles putting the leftovers in containers. the clink of dishes and quiet movement fill the space.
when you walk over to the sink, you place the plates inside, fingers lingering on the faucet handle. but you stop. turning around, you fiddle with your hands, the words you've been holding onto threatening to spill out.
your voice is quieter than usual when you finally ask, “how do you know if you love someone?”
your mom pauses in her search for containers, her hand resting on the cabinet door as she looks over at you. she sets down the lid she’s holding and turns, studying your face carefully. “what do you mean?” her tone is soft, open, and it catches you off guard.
you bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding like some naive girl, like a kid who thinks she’s in love. you lean back against the counter, gripping the edges behind you. “i’m in this situation—literally—with this boy, and—”
your mom cuts in, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “is it rafe?”
you freeze for a second, caught off guard, but the way she says it, almost amused and without judgment, relaxes you. of course she knows. it’s not like you two ever really tried to keep anything a secret. the island knew, your friends knew, but hearing your mom say it so casually makes your lips curl into a sheepish smile. “yeah,” you admit quietly.
your mom crosses her arms, leaning against the counter opposite you, still smiling. “what’s going on?”
you exhale softly, unsure where to even begin. “i don’t know,” you start, “we’re close, obviously. and he’s been . . . we’ve been spending so much time together lately, more than usual. but it’s confusing, you know? like, he doesn’t commit, but then there are these moments, like, i feel like there’s more between us. and i don’t want to ruin what we have, but i also don’t know if what we have is enough anymore.”
your mom watches you carefully, absorbing everything you’re saying. her expression softens as she considers her words. “i remember when i was your age,” she begins, her voice taking on a reflective tone. “i was in a similar situation with your father. we weren’t perfect—far from it—but i knew i loved him. i knew it because i was scared of losing him, but more than that, i was willing to fight for him. and i did.”
you blink at her, surprised. she rarely talks about how she and your dad got together, and when she does, it’s usually brief.
“we had our ups and downs,” she continues. “but in the end, it was worth it because i didn’t give up on what i wanted. and that led me here,” she says, her smile widening as she gestures lightly, “to you.”
you look down, her words settling in. “so you’re saying i should, what? take a chance?”
“i’m saying if you think it’s worth it, if you believe in it, then don’t be afraid to fight for it. but you have to be sure, really sure. because if you’re not, it’ll show. and rafe? he’ll see it.”
your mom moves toward you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “whatever happens, just remember, you deserve to be happy. don’t settle for anything less.”
you’re still absorbing your mom’s words, turning them over in your head, when she leans slightly, nodding toward the back door. “go,” she says, her tone gentle yet resolute.
you blink, caught completely off guard. “wh— now?” your voice comes out confused, almost a laugh. you glance toward the window, where rain streaks down the glass. “mom, it’s pouring.”
she waves a hand, like the rain is the least of your worries. "i know. go put on a jacket. tell rafe how you feel."
your chest tightens, a swell of uncertainty rising up again, but there’s something in the way she looks at you—something that makes your heart stutter. “mom,” you start, your voice uncertain, but she interrupts, her expression soft but determined.
“listen,” she says, stepping closer, her hands gently shooing you toward the door, “it’s when you get to the end of your life that you realize how important the choices you made at the beginning were. you’re young, y/n. you have your whole life ahead of you to figure things out.” she pauses, her eyes meeting yours. “but you don’t want to look back, wondering what would’ve happened if you’d just taken that chance.”
your breath catches in your throat. you can’t deny that a part of you has been afraid—afraid of what admitting your feelings for rafe might do to your friendship, to the years of closeness you’ve built. but there’s something about the way she says it that strikes deep, a kind of clarity you’ve been avoiding.
“and,” she continues, stepping back just slightly, "even if it doesn’t turn out the way you hope, you both know you’ll always work out as friends. you’ve known that for a long time now.” she smiles then, soft but sure. “so go.”
you stand there, rooted in place, feeling the weight of your indecision lift—just a little. your mom knows. she’s always known. and the more you think about it, the more you realize she’s right. the fear, the hesitation—it doesn’t outweigh what you already know about rafe. about how solid you two are, even in uncertainty.
without another thought, you step forward, pulling her into a tight hug. “thank you,” you murmur into her shoulder, voice muffled but heartfelt. you linger for a second longer, breathing in the familiar scent of home, of comfort. “i owe you for this. and for the dishes next time.”
your mom chuckles as she pulls back. “all you owe me,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “is handling your friend when she gets back from the bathroom and realizes that you’re not here.”
you grin at that, shaking your head slightly as you turn away. then you rush toward the front door, grabbing a jacket from the table, your fingers fumbling for your car keys. the adrenaline starts kicking in, buzzing beneath your skin, and your heart beats faster—not from fear, but from excitement. clarity.
the rain hits your face as soon as you step outside, cool droplets splashing against your skin, soaking through the jacket almost instantly. but you don’t care. not this time.
you hurry toward the car, slipping behind the wheel, and as the engine roars to life, there’s only one thing on your mind. you’re not running away anymore—you’re going straight to him. straight to rafe, to tell him everything.
your mom is still standing in the kitchen, smiling to herself as she wipes down the counter. your friend emerges from the bathroom, stretching dramatically.
“ugh, i have the biggest food baby right now,” she groans, rubbing her stomach with an exaggerated pout. “like, seriously, i think i might be in my third trimester.”
she stops mid-step, suddenly noticing that you're nowhere to be seen. her gaze flickers around the room, confusion settling on her face. “where’s y/n?”
your mom just smiles, glancing up from the counter with a knowing look.
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the rain pounds against your windshield and your fingers grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white, as the tires cut through puddles, water splashing up on either side of the road.
it’s dark outside, the kind of dark that makes the world feel like it’s closing in, and yet you drive, the rain blurring everything except for the weight of what you’re about to do.
you can hardly believe you're doing this—driving to rafe’s house, of all places, on a night like this. it’s pouring. but the rain, the storm, the darkness—they almost feel fitting. like the weather outside mirrors the chaos that’s been brewing inside you for months.
you think about him. about rafe. about the time you’ve spent together—the laughs, the touches, the kisses, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.
you think about the nights he’s held you close, his breath warm against your neck, and the mornings where he pulls away just a little too soon, leaving you wondering if you imagined it all. it’s like being on a tightrope, balancing between something beautiful and something terrifying.
this thing with him, it’s not really a relationship, is it? it’s more like a maze with no exit, a constant loop of confusion and longing, of wanting more but being afraid to ask for it.
you’ve told yourself a thousand times that you’re okay with it—that whatever this is, it’s enough. but it’s not. and deep down, you’ve always known it’s not.
you’ve spent so long trying to figure it out. is this love? do you love him? or is it just the idea of him? the way he makes the world feel quieter when everything else is so loud, so overwhelming. you’ve wondered if maybe you just needed someone, anyone, to make you feel like you weren’t going through life alone. you’ve questioned if it’s love or if it’s desperation.
but then you remember the way his eyes soften when he looks at you—like he’s seeing past every wall you’ve ever put up. you remember the way his touch feels like it’s grounding you, like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. and it hits you, harder than you’ve ever allowed it to before. you do love him.
you’ve probably never loved anyone as much as you love rafe cameron. and it’s terrifying.
because how do you tell him that? how do you tell someone you love them when you’ve spent months pretending you’re fine without a real answer, pretending that this . . . undefined space you’ve both been living in is enough?
your mind is racing, your heart too, as the road blurs in front of you. the rain is relentless, but you barely notice. all you can think about is him. about how you’ve spent so long holding back, holding yourself in this limbo, waiting for something—anything—to change. but nothing will change unless you make it change.
you’ve waited for him to make the first move, to say something, to define what’s between you, but you’re done waiting. you love him, and whether or not he feels the same, you need him to know. you need to say it out loud. maybe for yourself, more than for him. you can’t keep living in this. you deserve more than that.
the rain is pouring harder now, like the sky is trying to drown the world, but it doesn’t matter. nothing matters except for the fact that you’re almost there. almost at his house. almost at the point of no return.
your heart is in your throat when you pull into his driveway. you sit there for a moment, the engine still running, the rain beating down on your car, and you just breathe.
but then you remember his smile. his laugh. the way he makes you feel like you’re floating and falling all at once. and you know you have to do this. you can’t keep living in the in-between.
you throw your jacket over your head as you step out into the rain, the cold water soaking through your shoes, your pants, everything. it’s freezing, but you barely feel it. you walk up to his front door, your steps heavy, heart even heavier. you knock, once, twice, and then wait.
your heart feels like it’s about to explode. everything you’ve wanted to say, everything you’ve felt—it’s all bubbling up inside you, ready to spill out the second the door opens. you’re nervous, terrified, but ready. so, so ready.
the door creaks open, and there he is. rafe.
he looks at you, rain-soaked and trembling, and it’s like something clicks in his eyes. like he knows exactly why you’re here. like he’s been waiting for this moment, too.
you smile, a soft, trembling smile, your heart in your throat. “hey.”
he stands there, staring at you with that familiar look, the one that’s always made you feel like maybe—just maybe—he’s been feeling the same way all along. and then he smiles back, a small, understanding smile that makes your heart skip a beat.
“hey.”
923 notes · View notes
riddleriddles · 10 months ago
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ෆ delicate
ෆ matthew riddle x hufflepuff! shy! reader
ෆ summary: the one in which Matthew can’t leave such a beautiful girl crying alone in a dress like that.
ෆ warnings: English translated from google (please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes), alteration of the history of mattheo and tom (tom is not voldemort but an potions teacher like snape).
ෆ notes: i just love shy!reader so much, im sorry if all my one shots are all with shy or hufflepuff reader, IM JUST A GIRL
𖦹
Parties have never really been your favorite way to spend time, loud music and dancing until your feet hurt in the middle of many strangers, not really your tipe of thing.
But a prom was so different, the music was slow, and the dresses, the delicate makeup, even more the winter ball, with the decorations in light shades of blue and white, was a dream.
Especially when you had someone to spend the night, a date, but maybe for lack of popularity, you hadn’t gotten a pair for tonight, your circle of friends was extremely limited, but if you did not have a pair it was not for lack of desire.
Since the prom was announced, you dreamed of being invited by none other than Cedric Digory.
He was tall, kind, sweet, confident, and extremely outgoing, always surrounded by his friends, but you weren’t special for having the attention picked up by Digory, half the girls of your year also dreamed the same thing as you, on being asked to be his date on the romantic night of the winter dance, unfortunately, you and Cedric, although you’ve interacted a few times - just a few little conversations he pulled during class, or little smiles as you passed each other in the hallway - you were very different, he was extremely confident and liked the attention, you did not.
In the little conversations you shared with him, you believed that those glances and those smiles had a greater meaning, maybe you forgot that he was just polite, or you knew but liked to pretend not, because the feeling was good, of being seen, of someone enjoying holding a conversation, and as much as you didn’t talk so much, he liked your words spoken in a low tone of quiet, or you thought he liked it.
the weeks passed and nothing came, not an owl or a letter, not even a flower, so your hopes were lost, as much as you had heard through the corridors that Cedric Digory had no pair and was considering going alone to the winter ball.
With only a few minutes left until the beginning of the prom, you were lying on the bed, wet hair tied in a towel with a robe around your body, looking at the ceiling with your hands resting one on top of the other in the region of your chest.
the room smelled like shampoo and the fragrance of the strawberry liquid soap you shared in the bathroom with your roommates.
"Come on, you need to go!" Lizzie, your closest friend, and roommate says excited, you and she used to make plans for a long time about this dance together. "We've been talking about it for so long, just for you to give up because of Cedric?"
She talks to you while tiing her hair delicately in a built-in braid, her yellow dress contrasting with her brown eyes and blonde hair.
"Oh Liz, you don't understand..." you whine "I don't have a pair, you at least go with someone nice."
"If that's the problem, you know I can leave Oliver dancing alone while we dance together." she rolls her eyes playfully and says excitedly, she looks at you through the mirror, you turn your face so that yours looks to meet, you smile softly at her.
"Don't do that." you say and giggles lightly.
You turn your head up again and sigh.
"All right, I’ll go..." You give yourself defeated and hear a lively scream from Liz, sit on the bed with your legs crossed.
She finishes the braid in her hair and finally turns to you looking for approval.
"do i look good?" She asks making an exaggerated pose with her hands on her waist and a smile from ear to ear.
She had a long yellow dress with several details of embroidered white flowers, and her blonde hair was in a single built-in braid with some messy strands giving her a stripped air, a yellow heel on her feet.
You smile at her and answer with a giggle "You look beautiful Liz, I'm sure Oliver will fall in love with you once again!"
Her smile changes to a shy smile and she looks at herself in the mirror again.
"I'm going to ask one of the girls to do my makeup, I hope that when I get back you'll be very ready for us to go!" She says excited and takes her makeup case, it is white with kittens and pink tulips and fits in the palm of her hand.
You suppress a smile with your lips and nod your head agreeing.
As soon as she leaves the dorm you get out of bed and go to the shared vanity, you sit on the wooden chair looking at your reflection in the mirror.
So you did your best to feel beautiful enough to go to the ball, dried your hair, and made a small braid on each side, a white bow holding them together, a light makeup on your face with a little glitter marking your eyes, and some golden accessories.
You get up from the vanity and walk to the full-length mirror that was on the door of the big wardrobe you shared with Lizzie.
The dress was hanging right next to the mirror, she went to her heels it was a shade of pearly white and made all of silk, it was beautiful, and you have been dreaming of it for so long.
You take it by the hanger and gently dress it with you back to the mirror, after fixing your hair and accessories, you turn to the mirror again and the view enchants you, feeling so beautiful, the dress had fallen so well on your body and your makeup, along with the simple hairstyle that made you so delicate.
Soon you hear the door open and turn quickly.
Lizzie gasped with an admired smile on her face and approached you quickly.
"You look won-der-ful!" She holds your hand and makes you do a little spin, a slight blush of shyness arrives on your cheeks while you give a soft giggle.
She releases from your hand and goes to the chair where two purses are hanging, one in a yellow and white tone and the other all white with small details in golden, she takes your lip gloss on top of the vanity and puts it inside the white purse, along with a mascara and a pink lip moisturizer that she puts in the yellow one, Going to you, she extends the white and you take it and put it on your shoulder.
"Let's go... the girls told me that Oliver is already waiting for me downstairs!" She says excited, ready to leave the dorm.
The great hall was splendid, in a whole shade of dark blue, the false sky with small and bright stars, the music was lively but still calm, couples were dancing in the center and some other people and groups of friends on the decorated tables.
You entered right behind Oliver and Lizzie, enjoying the place.
You sat at a table together where you shared a small talk to pass the time, as far as you could no longer ignore the passionate looks that Olive sent to her best friend and decided to leave them alone for a few minutes.
"I'm going to get something to drink, I'll be right back..." you asked excuse me getting up from the table with a gentle smile on her lips, Liz reciprocated shyly before giving all her attention to the brunette next to her.
Following up to a large table that was full of appetizers and different types of drinks, you took a red plastic cup and filled it with strawberry punch, from afar you could see Lizzie and olive sharing laughter, so you decided it was better to stay there for a while.
you got distracted looking down at your fingers while playing with the golden rings there, so distracted that you didn’t hear or notice when a tall brown boy came up to your side.
"Hey! you here!" Cedric said excitedly coming to your side with a little tap on your shoulder.
your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden presence of the boy, you turned to him with a small glance at his hand on your shoulder, visibly shy.
your heart began to beat faster in your chest and suddenly your throat was dry and your head could not find words to answer the boy with such beautiful eyes.
"Cedric... hi" you were louder than usual on account of the music playing, a small smile on your lips.
"You look good." he says in a charming tone approaching you, he passes by your side as he approaches the table behind you.
your cheeks are flushed with the comment and you don't know how to answer so you just chuckle shyly and admire him as he looks at the table.
"Thank you." you wanted to say that he looked good too but the words don’t seem to want to leave your mouth.
He serves himself in a red plastic cup just like yours, you watch him as he takes a gray canteen out of his suit pocket and baptizes the drink in the cup, you look at him and he seems not to notice, you look away at the couples dancing in the center of the Great hall.
He leans against your side, an arm leaning on the table behind your back without touching you, you suppress your lips, nervous with his proximity, playing with your rings again you swear you can feel your heart almost jumping from your chest.
He lifts the canteen as if offering you some of the whiskey he kept in his suit.
"Do you drink?" he asks with a gentle smile as if asking a casual question.
you look around nervous to see if any teacher is looking at you, which fortunately is not.
"No, but thank you." you gently refuse with a shy smile, he nods and hides the canteen on his suit again.
Now it’s his turn to watch the couples dancing in the center of the prom, a huge jealousy hitting his chest as he sees Cho Chang dancing in the arms of another boy.
You don’t follow his gaze, still playing your rings, the silence starts to bother you when he suddenly catches your hand, you look at him surprised, kinda bothered by the sudden touch.
"Do you want to dance?" he asks with an almost nervous smile.
suddenly you were speechless again, he wanted to dance? with you?
you nodded looking a little bit more lively, a big smile popping up on your lips.
was playing a song you didn’t know as Cedric took you to the center of the Great Hall, his hand resting on your waist.
you danced in a funny sync, but for you, everything seemed perfect. At least until you realize that Cedric wasn’t even paying attention to you.
you exclaimed softly in pain as he stepped on a finger as you danced, stopping for a few seconds.
He suddenly takes his eyes off something he was staring at behind you and looks at you surprised, then gives a little look at your foot, realizing his mistake.
"Oh, sorry, really sorry, I swear I’m not that bad normally" he apologizes with a nervous expression.
You can only nod your head and agree with a fake smile realizing that he doesn’t even care to look at you while apologizing, you follow his gaze and find none other than Cho Chang dancing and laughing with some other Corvinal boy.
You look away before he notices, and look down at your feet, gathering the courage to give an excuse to leave, he seems to notice.
"hey... you all right?" he asks with a gentle little smile and pretending to be worried.
So you look up at him, and you realize that he wasn’t trying to hurt you, of course, it was a little rude to treat you as a second choice, but it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t have feelings for you.
You sigh quietly “im sorry, cedric, i gotta go”
You don’t wait for an answer and get rid of his arms without looking at him because you know if he asks looking in your eyes you would stay.
Passing the couples dancing together you run a firm step out of the Great Hall, hoping to be alone for a while.
The thought of coming to the prom alone was beginning to look pathetic in your head, you should have stayed in your dorm.
you pass through the corridor of the stairs and follow to the courtyard, a bubble of anguish forming in your throat, along with the burning in the tip of your nose, indicating the will to cry.
You always used to cry for silly things, as simple as they were, like the end of a romantic book, or a sad movie, sometimes happiness, sometimes anger.
Now you felt pathetic, for not having a pair and having been made second choice, a mixture of sadness and upset formed the tears in the corner of your eyes.
You leaned on the stone wall, your hands covering your eyes to prevent more tears from falling.
the sound of you back on the stone wall catches Matthew attention, he looks back and would not have noticed that you were crying if not for the hand in your eyes, you sobbed silently.
He lets the cigarette smoke out of his mouth still holding it between his lips if he mentally asks if he should ask you what was happening or should sneak out while you hadn’t noticed his presence.
He analyzes your whole body, from the white Maryjane on your feet to the jewelry you wore on your neck, before sighing softly and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, his night was so boring that he needed a distraction.
Matthew also did not have a prom date, but not for lack of choice, nor would he come to this dance considered ridiculous in his vision, refused one or two dates saying that he would not attend, unfortunately, Lorenzo, one of his best friends, convinced him to stay at least a few minutes before disappearing with his escort, Matthew tired of being alone decided to go out to smoke without being caught by some of the teachers, he planned to finish and climb back to his dorm.
His plans were ruined.
You feel the smell of cigarettes and the presence next to you and take your hand out of your eyes to look at Matthew next to you, your cheeks red by crying, and now the shame of being caught crying, matching with the tip of your nose also reddish and your eyes glowing with tears.
He looks at you and then realizes why your dress is white, was to match your angelic appearance, he notes mentally to thank Lorenzo later for forcing him to come.
"hi." he whispers with a neutral expression, not so serious but also not smiling.
"Hi?" you whisper, yet come out as a question.
You wipe the corner of your eyes, looking elsewhere than him, still ashamed of being caught crying over something so silly.
"Why aren’t you at the prom?" he asks as if you’re not crying, without asking your name as if you already know each other.
Uncertain of what to say, because you did not want to open up to a stranger, especially when the unknown was the son of the frightening professor of potions, Tom Riddle.
"I... found it boring." you whisper shyly, your hands playing with the heart pendant of your necklace.
"so boring that it made you want to cry? what a coincidence, me too, I just wiped my tears." he says with a serious tone but visibly joking.
You let out a giggle realizing that he took your lie, forgetting what had just happened.
"All right, it’s just a silly motive."
"Will you tell me you don’t have someone to dance with?" he asks with a giggle as if he’s joking.
"I haven’t." Your smile falls and you look at your own feet.
He tilts his head to look at your face, not believing that someone so beautiful and dressed so well is crying for not having someone to dance with.
"you’re lying."
"I’m not." you whisper uncertainly and he giggles out of disbelief.
After a few seconds in silence, he puts the cigarette in his mouth again, and from a puff, you watch as he releases the smoke between his lips and takes the cigarette out of his mouth again.
The cold began to bother you, your hands rose and your arms crossed above your chest in search of heat, he notices and comes a little closer, not so much not to scare you.
"Was it someone who made you cry?" he asks quietly, alternating between looking at you and the cigarette on his fingers.
"yes."
"your boyfriend?"
"No." you reply, feeling foolish again, for crying over a boy who isn’t even your boyfriend. "It’s silly."
He stares at you as he leans his head against a stone wall, your eyes still sparkling from tears as you look at your shoe, he notes that the tears lightly blurred your mascara.
He lifts his fingers to the tip of your eyes and passes his thumb over the stain carefully, you look at him uncertain with the proximity, your cheeks turning pink again, and he smiles noticing you blushing with the touch.
"was stained" he clarifies
"with mascara?" he nods agreeing, the cold starting to bother him too.
"Don’t you want to come in? It’s getting cold in here, and you’re out of coat." He whispers, putting his cigarette out on the wall behind him, before throwing it on the floor, wet from the rain earlier.
"I think I’ll go back to my dorm." you whisper letting your hands slip to the side of your body.
"Oh no you can’t leave," he says quickly, thinking of some reason to make you stay, not knowing that you didn’t need much because you hadn’t yet learned to say no, as much as it was someone unknown.
"I can’t?" you ask confused
"No... because... I wanted you to dance with me." he says at once without thinking, dancing? he didn’t dance, what had gone through his head?
His voice comes out neutral but he curses himself mentally, he did not want you to leave but he also did not want to dance.
"Do you want to dance with me?" you blush and suppress a smirk, he sighs without knowing how to answer.
"Yes." No, he doesn’t.
you smile with the words that come out of his lips.
Ok, maybe he wants, just a little.
"Okay." you smile shyly, looking at him slightly flushed, he looks between your glossy lips and your eyes shining.
He accompanies you to the Great hall again, making silly comments to keep you distracted, you thank him mentally.
"I don’t have a pair either, nor is it that bad right?" he says as you arrive.
"not much" you respond softly
a song ends when you arrive, and one of your favorite songs starts playing.
You take a deep breath and your smile increases, you start to think that the universe was trying to make you sad just to make you happy again.
Matthew has his hand on your waist while guiding you to the center of the Great Hall, which did not have as many couples as before, Fade Into You played in the background while the lights changed to a dark blue tone.
Your chests were glued and you were smaller than him, he can smell the floral smell of your shampoo, and then he takes a deep breath discreetly to feel it better.
You look up at him shyly, not knowing what to say to end the silence.
I wanna hold the hand Inside you
you whisper something quietly to him
I wanna take the breath thats true
"Sorry, I didn’t catch that" he whispers so just you can hear and bends down a little to hear you better, your bodies still dancing in sync truly perfect.
I look to you and i see nothing
you stand on tiptoe, your hand on his shoulder as you say in his ear "Thank you" It is still low but he could hear why you said it in his ear this time.
i look to you to see the truth
He had no idea what you were thanking him for, and neither did you.
You live your life, you go in shadows
"oh no, I should thank you." He whispers back to you, he talks louder, and he doesn’t have to say it in your ear, but he does it anyway.
You’ll come apart and you'll go blind
you shiver with his hoarse voice in your ear as he smiles at your reaction, realizing that maybe he likes to see you blush, even if the blue light is in the way.
Some kind of night into your darkness
he leaves a kiss on your neck next to your ear before he looks up again, his action making your heart race, you had never received this much attention from some boy.
Colors your eyes with what is not there
you smile shyly and he reciprocates before looking up around, you lower your head, and lean on his shoulder, while your bodies dance slowly, his hand that was previously intertwined with yours loose and goes down to your waist, his hand that was once intertwined with yours loose and descends to your waist, his arms hold you there, on his chest, your own hands follow his movements and climb to his neck, the silence began to get comfortable.
Fade into you
Stranger, you never knew
Fade into you
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infictionalwonderland · 1 year ago
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Hey, I hope you’re having a good day! I had an idea, Marvel cast flirting with y/n for x minutes?
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. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!
Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.
So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.
‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.
Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.
Surely this was an exaggeration.
The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.
The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.
“How do you feel about your costume?”
Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.
“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”
The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.
With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.
The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.
He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.
“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”
“SEBA—“
“Cut!”
The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.
“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.
“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”
“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.
You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.
“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”
“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.
“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.
The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)
Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”
Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”
“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.
Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.
Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”
“But—“
“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.
Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)
“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.
The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.
“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.
“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.
“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”
Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.
The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.
“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.
“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.
“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”
“I—“
“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.
The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.
“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.
“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.
The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.
“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”
McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.
“This is getting juicy!”
“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“
“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.
Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”
“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.
The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.
He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.
“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”
By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.
“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.
“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.
In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.
The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.
“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”
Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”
Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.
The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.
“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”
“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.
“CHRI—“
In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.
“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.
“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.
“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.
“I concur.” You grinned back.
The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.
“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”
“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.
You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.
The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.
Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.
The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.
“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.
“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.
The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.
“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”
“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.
“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.
“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.
“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.
“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.
There were still many minutes left of the video left and that alone astounded you; overcome with cackles, you forwarded the video the your Marvel groupchat—so yall bitches like obsessed with me or sum 🥰🥰🥰
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dixons-sunshine · 4 months ago
Text
Sweetest | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
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Summary: Wounded and benched from runs for the week, Daryl was asked to watch the kids in the prison while you and some of the others worked on repairing a breach in one of the fences. One of the kids asked Daryl how he met you, his wife, and it made for a rather sweet tale.
Genre: Fluff.
Era: Prison, pre season 4.
Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.
Warnings: None.
Word count: 1.6k.
A/n: This turned out worse than I hoped, better than I expected. I don't really know how to explain it, but I hope you like this! (Thank you @ddamm and @dixondystopia for giving me your favourite moments from the entire series to add to this! They were pretty much the same, so great minds truly do think alike, as they say.)
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“Mr Dixon?”
At the sound of his name being called, Daryl looked up from his baby girl and locked eyes with a little girl—Mika, he believed her name was—who was staring at him with a big smile. “Yeah?” he replied, slightly bouncing his knee when Hazel began fussing a little.
Mika giggled slightly, sharing a look with her sister, Lizzie, before turning back to the archer. “Mrs Dixon is your wife, right?” she inquired, bouncing slightly on her feet.
Daryl's lips involuntarily twitched up at the mere mention of you. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah? Why do ya ask?”
“Well, my dad likes to talk about how he met my mom. Mr Greene has told us how he met his last wife a million times. We wanna know how you met Mrs Dixon!”
Almost as if for added emphasis, the other children all perked up and voiced their interest in knowing the tale of how Daryl met you, his beautiful wife. The archer, both amused by the children's nosiness and embarrassed by the metaphorical spotlight he was placed under, let out a small scoff and adjusted Hazel in his arms, allowing the small girl to happily toy with his fingers. “It ain't some big love story or nothin'. It'll only bore ya.”
“No, it won't,” Carl added from his position atop one of the tables. The teenager had been sulking because Rick had forbade him from helping fix the breach in the fence—where several walkers had managed to crawl through—but the chance of getting to know some insight to one of the most talked about couples in the prison brightened his mood somewhat. You and Daryl were the only couple that dated back before the outbreak, and everyone was eager to know how the two of you got together, and how you managed to keep that spark alive. “We wanna know. Come on, Daryl. Please.”
Daryl let out a small groan and rolled his eyes at the young Grimes' insistence. “Why dun' y'all go pester Glenn or somebody? M'sure he'd be more than happy to tell y'all 'bout how he met Maggie.”
“But he's told us that story a zillion times already,” one of the kids groaned. “We wanna hear your story. Please, Mr Dixon.”
Daryl let out a deep sigh. From somewhere behind him, he could hear Carol chuckle, closely followed by the chuckles of a few of the adults that were taking a break from their chores around the prison. Daryl shook his head and pursed his lips. “Y'all really wanna hear?” Almost instantly, all of the kids perked up and simultaneously voiced their clear interest, trying to talk over the other. Daryl raised his eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Woah, calm down. I ain't sayin' nothin' 'til y'all quiet down.” And just like that, it got so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. “Y/n and I go back many years, long 'fore all'a y'all kids were born. We're closin' in on three decades'a knowin' one another.”
“Thirty years?” Carl voiced in a disbelieving tone. “That's basically forever!”
Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Guess ya can say tha', yeah.” Daryl shushed Hazel when she began fussing a bit, lightly tickling her stomach to coax a laugh from her. “We met when we were twelve, 'side this river in the woods outside the trailer park we lived in. I admit, I didn't know wha' to think'a her at first. Refused to talk to her fer a whole month, but she never gave up. She kept pesterin' me 'til one day, somethin' happened and I broke my quiet facade. Tha's when we started becomin' friends.” Daryl stopped and tried to hide the smile that spread across his face, but to no avail. “She, uh... She quickly became my best friend after tha'.”
“When did you start love-liking her?” one of the kids asked with a giggle, closely followed by the mischievous laughter of the other kids.
Daryl hummed and shrugged. “After she did somethin' fer my sixteenth birthday. I liked her fer a while 'fore tha', but tha' occasion was my wake-up call. My feelin's fer her slapped me righ' in the face tha' day.” He stopped and let out a small sigh before continuing. “I didn't have the balls to confess to her fer 'nother year after tha'. And when I did confess, it was righ' after we went and bought pa—” Daryl cut himself off, painfully aware of the immature teenage boys that would freak out over the mere mention of pads. Because of that, he altered the truth a little. “...Pasta fer dinner tha' nigh'. Things escalated and we kissed, and then her mom walked in.”
“No,” Beth gasped, slightly tightening her grip on Judith as she thought of the embarrassing scenario.
Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “It was embarrassin' as shi—crap, tha's fer sure, but we lived. Her mom was nice 'bout it all. Definitely didn't mean we could escape her teasin', though.” He pursed his lips as he thought of that moment, the embarrassment still fresh in his mind, even all those years later. “Her teasin' got even worse when Y/n and I eloped. She was kinda upset 'bout it, but she soon went straight back to teasin' us fer not bein' able to wait to have a proper weddin'.”
By that point, unbeknownst to the archer, the group that had been working on fixing the fence—a group that included you—had silently stepped into the part of the prison everyone was in to alert the kids to the fact that they could go play. However, once they heard what the crossbow-wielding man was talking about, they stopped and remained quiet, eager to hear about it all. And you stayed quiet as well, quite shocked that your husband was willingly telling stories about his past with you. He preferred to keep that part of his life private, but there he was, happily talking away. It made your heart swell with love and affection for the man.
“The two of you stayed together for all those years?” Zach—Beth's boyfriend—asked, leaning against the wall. When Daryl nodded, he continued. “How?”
Daryl shrugged and adjusted his daughter in his arms again, feeling her head begin to droop as she was beginning to fall asleep. “I love 'er. And fer some reason I still don't understand 'til this day, she loves me. Ain't tha' hard to stay committed to the person ya love the most. Relationships ain't always all sunshines and rainbows, but when yer with the person ya love, s'all worth it. Y/n taught me tha'. She's the sweetest person ever. I dun' know wha' I did to deserve her, but I thank my lucky stars every day tha' I get to call her mine.”
It went silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the fences. That is, until Rick spoke up from behind the huntsman, startling him and alerting him to the fact that essentially everyone had heard him practically rave about you.
“Well said, brother. Well said,” Rick complimented him, a faint, teasing smile on his face. He turned towards the younger ones in the group and gestured towards the door. “Y'all can go play now. Just stay away from the fences.” And just like that, all the kids—except Carl—had forgotten their need to hear about Daryl's love story with you. They all excitedly darted out the door, their laughter fading as they disappeared out the doors.
Michonne smirked, playfully hitting you on the back. “Y/n, you never told me you found such a keeper. And you found him early on, too. You're so lucky.”
“Yeah, she is,” Carol chipped in, a teasing smile on her face as well. “Did I ever tell you about this one guy in our old camp that insulted her and Daryl instantly put him on his ass? He did accidentally reveal her pregnancy while doing so, but that's besides the point.”
“Was it Shane?” Rick asked, sighing when Carol nodded. “Yeah, of course it was,” he mumbled while he shook his head.
“Not to mention how he nearly killed Jenner because he wouldn't let us out—well, wouldn't let them out. He didn't care much for us back then. We all know he only wanted the doors open so that Y/n was safe,” Glenn piped in.
“Aw,” Michonne cooed teasingly. “That is so sweet, Daryl. You're just a big teddy bear.”
Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment as the others joined in on the teasing as well. He could feel his cheeks flush, and he would've gotten up and bolted from the embarrassing situation, had it not been for the fact that Hazel had just fallen asleep, and he didn't want to wake her.
The feeling of your hand being rested on his shoulder almost instantly made him calm down, your familiar touch bringing a sense of comfort to him. The rest of the group were to busy relaying their favourite moments they had seen between the two of you to notice this interaction, and the archer was glad about that. He was also glad that they couldn't hear what you whispered in his ear, because although Daryl Dixon wasn't a selfish man, the others didn't have to hear these words you clearly meant just for him:
“I'm proud of you. You climbed out of your shell today and did something I know you don't always enjoy doing. You're amazing, Daryl Dixon, and I love you so much.” You placed a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. “You really are the sweetest person ever.”
©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.
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breezeflows · 3 months ago
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The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)
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Chapter 3
WOOP WOOP CHAPTER 3 IS HERE AND BOY IS IT JUICY🫣 On a serious note though, we are finally getting into some of the exciting bits of the story!! I’m hoping by the next chapter we will finally be back in the present. No more sad flashbacks!! Also y’all writing Lizzy is genuinely my favorite. If this fic wasn’t about Ford I’d be wifing her up instead😔 Anyways- here’s chapter 3 you lovely souls!
Themes: Consumption of alcohol (reader lowkey gets wasted), major hangover, bill himself is a warning, suggestiveness kind of?? idk, heartache, lizzy is overall an amazing friend, alllll the angst and feelings, injuries, etc okay enjoy!
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The drive to Lizzy’s place is quiet, the steady hum of the car engine and the sound of raindrops against the windshield the only background noise. You sit in the passenger seat, watching the trees pass by through the window as you fiddle with the wedding band around your finger. Lizzy glances at you occasionally, a small frown on her face as she senses your mood. She remains silent for most of the ride, giving you space to process your emotions if need be.
It's not long before the car rolls to a stop in front of her apartment building. You reach around to gather your belongings from the backseat and step out into the rainy afternoon. Lizzy follows suit, bright pink umbrella in hand as she leads you towards the entrance.
Once inside the building, she unlocks the door to her apartment building and the two of you usher inside. The soft yellow light of the living room envelopes you, creating a cozy atmosphere in stark contrast to the gloominess outside.
Lizzy begins to kick off her shoes, hanging her keys as she silently studies your face. She can see the turmoil in your eyes, and the uncertainty you’re trying to hide.
“So,” she says gently, breaking the silence. “You okay?”
Your eyes snap out of the daze they were in as you look over at Lizzy, giving her a weak smile.
“Oh, yeah I guess. Things went a lot better than I thought they would.”
Her expression relaxes at your response, a hint of relief showing on her face.
“That’s good,” she says as she walks over to the couch and plops down on it, gesturing for you to do the same. “I was half-expecting a tearful scene or something, honestly.”
You manage a light chuckle at her remark, plopping down on the couch next to her. You pull your knees to your chest as you grab a blanket draped across the back of it, wrapping it around you.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “Ford took it pretty well, actually. Better than I expected.”
Lizzy raises a brow as she leans against the back cushions, her arms crossing. “Girl, he better take it well after what he said to you. If it had been me, I would’ve dropped his ass on the spot.”
You can’t help but let out a small snort of laughter at her words, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips for the first time in a while. It’s a relief to have Lizzy’s no-nonsense attitude around, her bluntness serving as a much-needed dose of honesty.
“Yeah, yeah Liz, I know.” you admit, the smile still lingering on your face. “I was a little tempted.”
Lizzy grins, satisfied with your response as she reaches over and pats your knee supportively.
“As you should,” she says with a nod. “You don’t deserve treatment like that of any kind, no matter how important his research is to him.”
You frown slightly at her words, opting to pick at the blanket below as a distraction.
“Yeah..”
Lizzy watches your expression carefully, sensing your discomfort. She tilts her head slightly, her gaze searching your face.
“But you don’t quite agree, do you?” she probes gently.
You let out a sigh, unsure how to articulate your feelings as you continue to fiddle with the fabric of the blanket.
“It’s just… complicated Liz,” you say, your voice tinged with guilt and frustration. “Yes, I’m hurt and angry with him, but I also understand where he’s coming from. We’ve been together almost our whole lives, and this is all he has ever worked towards. His research is important to him, and he’s under a lot of pressure.”
Lizzy nods slowly as she listens to your words, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. She reaches over and places a hand on top of yours, stopping your nervous fidgeting.
“I get that Y/N, I do,” she says quietly. “And I’m not saying he’s completely in the wrong. But you shouldn’t have to feel like an afterthought in his life either. That’s not fair to you.”
Your eyes brim with tears at her response, your hand twisting and taking hers tightly.
“I know,” you say, your voice threatening to break. “I just wish we could fix things..”
Lizzy squeezes your hand as your tear-filled eyes meet hers.
“And you will, Y/N. It’ll just take some time.”
A small, wobbly smile forms on your lips at her reassurance, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. The hope that you might be able to fix things with Ford, to find a way to bridge the gap that’s widened between you both, is a small but significant comfort.
“Thank you, Liz,” you murmur, your voice still shaky. “I really hope you’re right.”
Lizzy stands with a smile, her hand pulling away from yours and resting on your shoulder.
“I know I’m right chick, because you two love each other. I’ve seen it.”
Your heart warms at her confidence, a soft smile forming on your lips as you nod.
“Now, how about some pizza?”
The few weeks you spend with Lizzy fly by, days passing in a blur of movies, late-night conversations, and plenty of chocolate induced comfort eating. As the final night of your stay approaches, Lizzy turns to you with a sly grin on her face.
“Y/N, I know you’ve been pretty reclusive the past couple of weeks, but it’s your last night here and I refuse to let you spend it watching crappy movies in my living room.”
She places her hands on her hips and gives you a stern look.
“We’re going out for drinks and that’s final.”
You mope as you walk into her view from the bathroom, your voice annoyed and pleading as you speak.
“Liz, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m a married woman, and this dress feels less than... modest.”
Lizzy rolls her eyes, her expression clearly unconvinced.
“Girl, you’re not here to pick up someone, you’re here to have fun. And as for the dress I picked out for you, it looks fantastic. Stop overthinking it.”
She gives you a onceover, inspecting your outfit.
“Besides, I’d like to see anyone who tries hitting on you tonight.”
You pout as you watch her, pulling down your dress so it covers your knees.
“I don’t know how Ford would feel about this..”
Lizzy scoffs, shaking her head.
“Ford’s not here, and we both know he should be the last person you’re trying to impress right now. You’re still young, and attractive Y/N, you deserve to enjoy yourself for one night without him on your mind. Not to mention you’ve got to live your life without kids while you can. I know the two of you have talked about it. ”
She grabs the hem of your dress and tugs it back up, flashing you a defiant look.
“And if he has a problem with you having fun, he can talk to me.”
You sigh as you give in, knowing Lizzy wouldn’t be changing her mind about your all’s plans for the night.
“Fine, fine. But we’re not staying out too late, okay?”
Lizzy grins, victorious.
“That’s more like it! And don’t worry, I promise we won’t be out until dawn,” she assures you. “Just a few drinks, maybe a little dancing, and then we’ll come back here. You trust me, right?”
“More than anything Liz.”
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And that’s how you find yourself at the bar now, one too many drinks in and slumped against Lizzy’s shoulder.
She laughs at your state, her own cheeks flushed from drinking. She slings an arm around your shoulders, keeping you upright and steady in the booth the two of you occupied.
“Goodness chick, are you already trashed? We’ve barely been here an hour!” she teases, her voice lighthearted and amused.
You grumble something in response, your head spinning from the alcohol in your system. You take another sip from your glass, your tongue loose and inhibitions lowered.
“I blame you,” you slur, pointing an accusatory finger at Lizzy. “You’re a bad influence.”
Lizzy laughs loudly at your accusation, her eyes sparkling. “No one forced you to down those shots, Y/N,” she says, sliding out of the booth with ease. “I’m going to get you some water, alright? You stay right here in your seat.”
You nod lazily at her words, the idea of staying where you are very appealing. You watch groggily as she strides away, her bell bottoms and flare top in tow. She weaves through the crowd to make her way to the counter, your eyes becoming heavy.
Just as you’re starting to doze off from the alcohol, a presence suddenly sits down in the booth across from you. You blink in surprise, your vision clearing slightly as you focus on the newcomer.
Your eyes widen as you recognize your husband’s face, his features strangely serious and intense as he stares back at you. But there’s something off about him… Something otherworldly in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.
“Well, well,” he says, his voice cool and calculated. “If it isn’t dear Y/N. You look a little worse for wear.”
Your vision blurs as you grip the side of the table, your words slurred as you speak.
“F.. Ford?”
Ford smiles widely, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. The expression is slightly unfamiliar, different from the familiar warmth you’re used to. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“In the flesh, honey,” he drawls, his voice smooth and flirtatious.
“But I see you’ve had quite a few drinks already. Feeling a little dazed? I wonder how Sixer would feel about me seeing you in this state and not him. Hilarious!”
Your arm trembles weakly as you hold yourself up, vision blurring in and out as you sway slightly in your seat.
“Wha.. What? Why are you.. here..?”
His lips curl into a smug smirk as he eyes your disheveled form, eyes lingering on your exposed skin, clearly enjoying your confusion and intoxication.
“Oh, I had a little chat with Fordsy earlier. He agreed to let me take the reins for a few hours…”
He gives a careless shrug. “You know how he is. All work and no play. Figured I’d take advantage of the situation, hell, I even got him a new tattoo!”
You sit there, dumbfounded and wavering in and out of consciousness as your mind tried to process what Ford was talking about.
Ford’s – or rather, Bill’s – eyes rake over you again, giving an exaggerated sigh before his lips turned into a sly grin.
“You really are a sight for sore eyes, I can see why Sixer married you.”
Your thoughts are still spinning from the alcohol, making it hard to focus on the conversation. You struggle to keep yourself upright, your body feeling heavy and numb.
Bill notices your dazed state, chuckling as he gives a mockingly sympathetic tone.
“You look a little out of it, darling. You really shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Especially considering how easy it’d be to trick you into a deal right now.”
Your mind races with confusion as you stand up weakly, your gut telling you something wasn’t right as you sway back and forth, (Or maybe it was the alcohol) your vision blurring as you scan the place in search of Lizzy.
“Going somewhere? Those human legs of yours don’t look very stable!”
You wobble forward, ignoring his protests as you keep moving.
“You really should listen to me if you want to avoid that nasty bruise tomorrow!”
He calls out, and before you know it you trip, and everything goes black.
Hours later… aka early morning.
You slowly open your eyes, your head pounding and your memories fuzzy. You realize you’re lying on a couch in Lizzy’s apartment, a cool cloth pressed over what you assume to be a large tender bruise on your forehead.
Lizzy is sitting perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. She notices your eyes flutter open and lets out a relieved sigh.
“Oh thank god,” she mutters. “You had me worried for a second there. I stayed up with you all night waiting for you to wake up.”
“Liz?” you mumble, head pounding. “What the hell happened? My head is killing me..”
Her expression softens at your groggy murmur, her hand reaching out instinctively to brush the hair away from your face.
“Hey, take it easy,” she says, voice low and soothing. “You took a pretty nasty fall back at the bar. Hit your head on a table on the way down.”
Your eyes widen as your memory jogs itself.
“What..? Wait, Ford.. Ford was there?”
Lizzy freezes, her expression guarded at the mention of Ford. She averts her gaze, focusing her attention on the cloth that she’s holding against your forehead.
“Uh, yeah,” she says, her voice hesitant. “He showed up towards the end of the night when I went to grab you a water… You don’t remember?”
You think to yourself for a moment, your memory patchy and vague.
“I mean, I kind of do. But it was weird? Did something happen?”
Lizzy is silent, her gaze still firmly averted from yours. She adjusts the cloth, pressing it against your head with a little more pressure than necessary.
“Nothing happened,” she finally says, her voice tight. “You just had a little too much to drink and tripped, that’s all.”
Her words are curt and dismissive, clearly trying to downplay the situation. But there’s something in her expression, a flicker of unease that betrays her true emotions.
She glances at you briefly, her eyes meeting yours for a split second before moving back to your injury.
“Lizzy..?” you say, silently pleading with her to tell you the full truth.
She exhales slowly, her shoulders slumping in resignation. She knows you’re not going to let this go, and she owes you the truth.
“Alright, fine,” she mutters avoiding your gaze. “When I got back to the booth, it was exactly when you had fell..”
You listen closely, sitting yourself up slightly.
“I had noticed Ford when I got there, sure, but when I went to go help you..”
Lizzy pauses, a frown forming on her face as she continues.
“Ford laughed,” she says as her eyes meet yours, full of concern and.. fear? “And not in a lighthearted way, in a cruel mocking way Y/N..”
Lizzy lowers the cloth from your head, placing it in her lap as you sit there, dumbfounded.
“He was just… enjoying the view, I guess,” She mutters bitterly. “Like you were some kind of joke, I don’t know Y/N. It was fucking weird, really fucking weird. I didn’t like it. He laughed as if he was the one who had done it.”
Lizzy trails off, brows furrowed as she clenches her fists. While you, on the other hand, are utterly speechless.
Your mind reels with this new information, struggling to reconcile the image of Ford – laughing coldly and mockingly at your predicament - with the caring, affectionate husband you’ve known him to be your whole life.
“I… I don’t understand,” you stutter, your voice small and confused.
“He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that. Not Ford.”
But as you say those words, you can’t help but recall the other strange things that had happened earlier that night. Ford’s detached demeanor, his unfamiliar choice of words, the way he seemed so cold and calculating. Your heart clenches in your chest at the thought, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Had something happened over the few weeks you’ve been gone? Did Ford get too deep in his research? Something wasn’t right.
As you try to make sense of the situation, Lizzy watches you with a mix of compassion and concern. She knows this is incredibly tough for you to hear, but she also seems to have her own worries about the situation.
“I don’t know Y/N,” she says quietly, her hands twisting in her lap. “It was just… so not him. I don’t know what the hell happened. But I’ve never seen him act like that before. It’s like he was a different person.”
Her voice trails off, leaving the two of you in silence as you’re both lost in thought.
Eventually, Lizzy breaks the silence, her voice sympathetic as she places a hand on top of yours.
“How about this, you rest up today, and when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the cabin to get some answers from Ford? Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside of you.
“Alright,” you murmur. “I’m still feeling pretty rough, but I’d like to see him… tonight, if possible.”
Despite your confusion and worry, you know that facing your husband and talking with him is the only way to get answers. The answers that you crave so desperately in hopes that it’ll mend your breaking heart - and marriage.
Lizzy gives you a reassuring nod.
“Of course,” she says gently. “You rest up, and I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.”
She stands up, gently readjusting the cloth on your head.
“Try to get some sleep, okay?”
You nod, laying yourself back down.
You’re going to need it to cross the bridge that awaits you tonight.
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READER AND BILL INTERACTION WOOP WOOP!! Also I’m not gonna lie, I feel like I messed up the timeline a little bit but I’m just gonna go for it. Thank you for reading! :)
Tag List: @artistic-gato @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum @violetvsworld @inquiit @catr4dora
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hearts4golbach · 7 months ago
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Hey can I request y/n surprising Billie at the Grammys? Thanks
Double-Winner.
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Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader.
a/n: sorry this is so short, i had no clue how to fulfill this tbh but i tried my best! hope you like it x
"bil, for the last time," I sighed heavily, "im not going to be able to make it. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
billie whined on the other end of the phone, "it's not the same, ma."
I continued packing my suitcase. "I know, babe, but you know I have a huge meeting that I can not miss."
she grumbled, "I know." I heard water running and movement. "Wish me luck." she muttered as she began to brush her teeth.
"i'll be manifesting for you," i joke, walking to the bathroom to prepare my toiletries. "You're going to win the grammy." i reassure her.
i could hear her take a deep breath and sigh. "Yeah, hopefully. i think i should go to bed, big day tomorrow." she cheesed.
"Alright," i say dramatically. "If you have to."
she made a kiss noise, "i love ya."
"i love you too. Text me when you're up." i kissed her back before she hung up.
i checked the time on my phone, silently thanking billie for hanging up at the perfect time. i zipped up my suitcase and threw on my slides before walking out of the house. i double-checked to make sure the door was walked before i drove off towards the airport.
the cool winter breeze caught me off guard as i stepped out of my warm car. i dreaded all of the airport security traffic. it took me forever to get through everything, but i had finally made it on the flight that would take me to surprise billie.
i found out 3 hours before she called me that the meeting was canceled, and i decided i was going to surprise her. i booked the fastest flight and sound one that was perfect. i was surprised it was still available.
i sat peacefully on the plane, drinking Sprite and eating the iconic honey roasted peanuts. of course, i spent the whole time worrying over billies' reactions. would she be mad that i lied to her? i pondered back and forth, defending each argument for yes and no over in my mind.
the loud, robotic sounding woman over the speakers awoke me from my sleep. i rushed to get off the plane as i only had 2 hours to make it in time to see billie. i went to the nearest airport restroom and changed into my stunning dress that i had been saving for a really special occasion. it was a long, ruby red silk slip dress. it had a slit in the right legs and was long enough to trail behind me. i had straightened my hair before i left, and it had managed to stay intact. i did quick but elegant makeup and called my Uber.
the wait for the Uber was spent getting cat called by older men while waiting for billie to text me back.
me: How's your morning going, babe? i miss you
billie ❤️: it's going good, just doing hair and make up
billie ❤️: you?
billie ❤️: i miss you sm mama
me: just been thinking about you
billie: i gotta go get dressed, text you after ❤️
me: sounds goood
the Uber arrived and took me to my hotel room, which i had to rush to get ready since i was running late.
i basically threw on the dress that complimented hers, so i had enough time for makeup. luckly, i didn't like to do heavy makeup.
whenever i was finally done, billie texted me.
billie ❤️: god everything reminds me of how much i wish you could be here.
billie ❤️: theres an extra seat at the table for some reason
me: hm thats weird, dont worry, though i have the live video pulled up right now
i lied as i climbed into the Uber. i told the man my destination, and he began driving. butterflies were building up, and i couldn't wait to see her reaction.
i made it right in time, making it in time for the music related awards. i chatted with Lizzie Grant, one of my favorite music artists, as i waited for billie to leave the table so i could sneak in.
whenever they finally announced the first award for "what was i made for?" she got up and walked onto the stage.
i slid into my seat quietly, waving to finneas and claudia, who were in on the surprise.
i admired billie on stage. i was so proud of her. I couldn't contain it. a stupid smile spread on my face as i saw her bright smile on stage.
"Thank you so much. i really couldn't have done it without y/n and finneas. i love you too, and im so sorry you couldn't be here, baby." she blew a kiss to the camera, which i knew there'd be edits of later on.
she walked back, thanking all the people who congratulated her as she walked by.
she was only a few feet away whenever she made eye contact with me. her face lit up, and her smile grew. she ran towards me, pulling me out of my chair and capturing me in a tight hug. she peppered my face in kisses before finally meeting my lips. she held her lips on mine, and i didn't want her to pull away.
"You actually made it!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around my waist.
"How could i miss it?! my meeting got rescheduled, but i was planning on surprising you anyway. so everything worked out in the end." i explained.
"When did you get here?" she asked, her smile never fading.
"literally 2 and a half hours ago." i laughed, my arms snaking around her neck. "im so proud of you, bil."
"Thank you, mama." she pecked my lips once more, "i love you."
"i love you more." i smiled, "youre amazing. you deserve this so much."
billie went on to win another grammy. needless to say, we celebrated a lot that night.
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tatertato · 9 months ago
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hoping this reaches the right target audience lol- i was watching the return of the king (extended edition ofc) yesterday and was consumed by the violent urge to make scene redraws of a life series lord of the rings au!
it started when i realized how pippin coded jimmy solidarity is, and snowballed into joel as merry, grian as frodo, and mumbo as sam.
also etho is aragorn and cleo is the king (queen) of the dead
i made lizzie eowyn for the "my lady" line and the "my lady" line only and im not sorry lmao
bonus characters not pictured here:
scar as gandalf (he would be so incompetent it would be so funny)
scott as legolas (he's an elf, what else do i have to say)
martyn as gimli (mean gills mean gills mean gills - also martyn and gimli are both very funny)
pearl as galadriel (in place of a dark lord you would have a queen! not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! treacherous as the sea! stronger than the foundations of the earth! all shall love me and despair!)
bdubs as theoden (horse lord, i mean, come on)
skizz and impulse as boromir and faramir (they're brothers your honorrrr)
ren as treebeard (i have literally no explanation for this. just. treebeard. ren is treebeard. that's it.)
i feel like gem should share eowyn with lizzie bc a) shes an ethogirl and b) i need "i am no man" from geminislay
feel free to draw any of these as i will not be. as fun as these were for color theory studies + forcing me to kind of make backgrounds, i am finished lol
bonus bonus: (fwhip can be eomer as a treat)
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ellastone-olsen · 9 months ago
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can you write a smut story where reader had to wait the entire ceremony (Golden globes) before she could take the gorgeous dress off of Lizzie. And Lizzie’s been just teasing her so when they get home reader rips the dress and takes Lizzie please 🙏🏻 I love your writing <3
Wicked game | Elizabeth Olsen
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★Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x fem!reader
Summary: your girlfriend has gone too far with her teasing. that's what it says in the request
★Warnings: SMUT 18+, teasing, dirty talk, overstimulation, sex toys, strap on usage, praise, aftercare, fluff
★Word count: 1.8k
★AN: I have some kind of creative block, but I'm alive. I spent 5 days on this little thing instead of the usual 1.
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The car slowly cut through the road, drifting between streams of the same iron boxes on wheels. The interior of the black SUV was spacious, but you and Elizabeth still sat shoulder to shoulder as the pad of your thumb stroked her knee through the fabric of snow-white dress. "Am I look good?" such a simple question with an obvious answer, but she still needed your confirmation. You cupped her cheek with your hand and turned her head towards you. “You are always beautiful my love” You give her a quick kiss on the lips and then look into her big green eyes. An idea just came into her sweet head, otherwise you can’t explain the sudden change in mood. She takes your hand and places it on her chest. “Then can you show me how much?”
A shiver runs down your spine and you nervously look at the driver's seat, noticing how the man is looking at you through the rearview mirror. As soon as your gazes intersect, he immediately turns his eyes back to the road. “Oh don’t worry dear, he will have to pay dearly if he spills the beans about what he saw.” Elizabeth whispers in your ear, you hope that by pay she means money. She moves your hand further, under her dress so that you touch her bare breasts and moans softly in your ear, making your core begin to pulsate. "Babe." You're warning her not to start something she can't finish. Her teeth bite your earlobe and you want to pull her away by hair, but you remember about styling. "Elizabeth." Your stern tone and the full form of her name still have an effect and she moves away. You don’t respond to her sweet smile, the car is just stopping.
The Golden Globes look spectacular, but boring. You are absolutely not interested in the speeches all these people make when they receive an award. People you don't know say words of gratitude to people you don't know again. The waiters obligingly drift back and forth, serving glasses of champagne and appetizers that are inedible to your taste. You just stand on the side and look around while your girlfriend talks to other celebrities or gives interviews. When you finally sit down in your seats, you cross your legs and lean back, unable to sit up straight. Elizabeth sits in such a way that the Queen of England would envy her if she were alive.
Time passes and you drink your second glass of champagne when it seems to you that something is touching your leg under the table. You don't pay attention to it until the action is repeated. The head turns to your girlfriend, but it looks like Robert Downey Jr.'s award ceremony is the most interesting thing she's ever seen. However, where her hands are says otherwise. Elizabeth's right hand triples on your thigh, red nails lightly scratching through the thin fabric of your pants, sending shivers down your spine. You stare at her, but the older woman doesn’t even think of turning her head. "Stop it." Your irritated, harsh whisper flies past her. As a sign from above, the bell rings, signaling a break, and without wasting any time, you grab Elizabeth’s hand and drag her away towards the toilets.
She sighs when she suddenly finds herself pressed against the wall, of course you can be rude, but first cover the back of her head with your hand so that she doesn’t get hurt from the blow. “What games are you playing today?” A hot whisper near her ear makes the woman hold her breath for a couple of seconds. Her answer doesn't keep you waiting. “But you like it, don’t you?” Elizabeth puts her hands on your waist, touching you through your thin shirt and tilting her head to leave small, light bites on your neck. “If you continue, I’ll push you into the toilet, lock the common door, bend you over the counter and...” You lose your breath from the stronger bite. “And what, dear?” The bell rings again, signaling everyone to return to their seats. You stand pressed against her for a few seconds, then push yourself off the wall with your hands and rub your neck where Elizabeth’s lips were, erasing non-existent traces of lipstick. The two of you go to your seats and no one seems to notice your disheveled state.
The ride home is quick and quiet, for two reasons. The older woman realized that you would ruin her for all her antics as soon as she set foot on the threshold of the house. She was in anticipation and silently looked out the window, imagining all the options for the development of events. The second reason is what you said to the poor driver when you got into the car. “You have 10 minutes to take us back, Elizabeth is terribly tired.” The black car brought you home in exactly 10 minutes. You gave the driver a tip for being in a hurry, even though it was not customary. When the front door closed behind you, what the older woman expected and desired happened. You grabbed her hand and quickly led her to your bedroom. When the door to the room closed, in one motion you threw Elizabeth onto her stomach on the plush blanket of your large bed.
Your hands pushed her hair back, exposing her slender neck so you could kiss and bite it. The woman's hips shot up, but you blocked the movement by straddling her. “If you think that you will get what you want quickly, don’t hope.” The zipper of the white dress was pulled down, almost breaking the zipper. Her dress and panties disappeared from her in record time, and you somehow managed not to tear them.
When you took a few steps back admiring the picture in front of you, your gaze caught on her wet shiny folds. She had definitely been looking forward to this all day. Elizabeth turned her head to the lack of action on your part to check the situation and saw you taking out from the nightstand the black compact vibrator that she loved so much. There were two scenarios in her head: either now she would get the best orgasm of her life, or she would die from overstimulation, but she really hoped for the first.
You returned to your girlfriend and moved her hips closer to the edge of the bed so that she rested her knees on the plush pile of the carpet and exposed her ass to your view. Your hands stroked her soft thighs, you couldn’t resist and leaned towards her dripping center to run your tongue along the entire length, tasting her. A shaky sigh escaped the woman's mouth above you and you repeated the action, gripping her hips even harder (there might be bruises there later). A mixture of pleasure and slight pain made her unconsciously lean back for closer contact. In what seemed like such a simple and innocent action, your palm landed on her ass with a loud slap. "No, no, don't you dare move." There was the first warning, which caused a groan of pain to escape from the older woman.
After you were satisfied with her taste, two fingers slipped inside her so easily, stretching the velvet walls. The second hand pressed the toy’s power button and you set the speed to medium, bringing it to her pulsating clit. "Hold it." Elizabeth reached underneath her and grabbed the silicone object, holding it in place. “If you disobey me, an even worse punishment will follow. You understood?" The older woman's mind was clouded with pleasure, but she hummed in agreement anyway. Her thoughts were confused by the way you moved inside her, pressing on a sensitive spot. Another slap to her ass. "Use your words." Her back arched and she was ready to swear that she would cum from such rough treatment. “Yes, I understand...please Y/N.” With every thrust, you felt her walls squeezing tighter around you. Elizabeth could no longer find words and shouted curses into the emptiness of your house. “Fuck...I'm going to cum...please can I?...” You cut her off. "No. Take it away."
She obediently removed the toy from her throbbing clit, stopping any stimulation. You were still moving inside her, but it wasn't enough to make her fall over the edge. “Oh fuck...fuck...so good...please can I continue?” You were silent for a minute before you gave her permission, making sure she didn't cum instantly. The woman's hips jumped as the stimulation began again. You pounded into her at a fast pace and after a couple of minutes you felt your orgasm approaching again. "Elizabeth stop." Oh how she didn’t like it when you called her by her full name, it never meant anything good. She put the toy away again and you pulled out.
The woman heard the chest of drawers open again behind her, the sounds of the harness, and then the cold tip of the faux cock pressed into her dripping entrance. You spread her natural lub along entire length and pushed the thick toy into her in one motion. Your girlfriend’s mouth opened in a silent scream, her hands grabbed the sheets as if they would tear them. "OH FUCK ." You returned her hand with the vibrator to the right place and pounding at her at a fast pace. “Do you like my cock baby? Mmm? Is this what you wanted all this time? So that I could fuck you like the whore?” Your dirty words turned her on even more. "Yes! Yes! Y/N can...can I cum?” She was ready to cry from overstimulation and you took pity on her. You leaned down to leave a kiss behind her ear and whispered. “Cum for me baby.”
Almost immediately, the woman fell over the edge, screaming your name mixed with curses into the softness of the mattress. You continued to fuck her through her orgasm until a small whine was heard from her. You pulled out and took off the strap, throwing it somewhere deep in the room, thinking that you would take care of it later.
Your arms grabbed Elizabeth and you helped her climb onto the bed, lying on her back. Her knees were red from standing on them for a long time and you gently rubbed the skin in the hope of relieving the pain. "My good girl, Lizzie." The lips began to pass everywhere you could reach, starting from the neck and ending with her cute tummy that you loved so much. When you looked up at her again, you noticed that the woman had begun to fall asleep.
“Baby, don’t sleep, you need to take off your makeup.” A hand covered her cheek and the pad of her thumb gently rubbed her cheekbone. “Mmmmm but I’m so tired, it can wait a couple of hours.” She mumbled sleepily. You gave in and covered her naked body with a plush blanket, setting the alarm for 3 hours. When the light in the room went out, Elizabeth had already fallen asleep and hugged you, breathing steadily into your neck.
Your fingers played with her blonde hair until you fell into the realm of Morpheus after her.
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moonstruckme · 8 months ago
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no cause I was thinking…. reckless driving by lizzy is so james coded!!! so I wanted to ask if you could write something inspired by it with reader being a bit insecure about loving him loudly and he’s just like a walking „I love my gf“ sign
ily I hope you are having a great day/night🫶🫶
Thanks for requesting, love you!
modern au
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
It’s beginning to frighten you how often you think of James. One of your friends will make a joke and you’ll catch yourself trying to remember it for him, or you’ll see a cute dog and want to send him a picture, or you’ll overhear a conversation in public and wish he were with you to press in close to your ear and ask Did you hear that? 
It’s sort of pathetic, really, considering you’ve only been dating a few weeks. The last time you’d met up you talked about how much you both loved the thin oreos, and when you saw a pack in the store yesterday you’d almost bought it for him. Only the realization of how much your life has started to revolve around him stopped you. 
You can’t be acting like James’ girlfriend. You’re only dating. It’s not like you love him—though you could, definitely, in time. But if you start doing girlfriend things, he’s going to think you are his girlfriend, and things will spiral out too fast for you to stop them. You have to dole out your affection in measured doses. Careful, controlled. 
You feel James enter before you see him. He holds the door to the coffee shop open wide, letting another woman exit before he steps inside, and the cool air that comes in with him has you turning your head. 
James is smiling as soon as he sees you. It’s a seemingly perpetual thing for him, this expression. You’re tempted to look out the window to the sidewalk and see if he’s left a trail of sunshine in his wake. 
“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from you. “You look really lovely.” 
You look exceedingly normal, but you thank him for the compliment anyway. “So do you.” 
“Thanks,” James says easily, like he gets this all the time (he probably does) but appreciates it nonetheless. He starts to dig in the tote he’s hung on the back of his chair. “I’ve brought you something.” 
You start to protest, but he anticipates you. 
“It’s tiny, don’t worry. Here.” 
He slides something crinkly across the table. It’s a pack of thin oreos. 
“Oh, no way! I almost…” You look up, meeting James’ eyes as your brain catches up to your mouth. Too late, you’ve blurted. You can hardly roll it back now. “I almost got a pack for you the other day, too.” 
He doesn’t seem to take your insensitivity to heart. In fact, his eyes light up. “Really! That’s so funny.” His hand remains still on the table but his fingers stretch towards yours, the barest of touches. “It was nice of you to think of me.” 
Your heart slumps. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them for you, though,” you say. “We should share these ones.” 
“Nope.” James leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Those are all you, love. Say, have you had a look at the menu?” 
You wince. “I’ve already ordered, actually.” 
“That’s alright,” he says breezily. “Back in a sec.” 
He stands and gets in line, leaving you to contend with the semi-awkward silence of being in the same place yet not speaking. Right as he finishes ordering, the barista calls your name. James looks like he might grab your drink for you, but you meet him at the counter, thanking the barista as you take it. 
“No problem,” she says with a smile. “Love your outfit, by the way.” 
You fluster a bit at the compliment, a break from the typical coffee shop dialogue you were prepared for, but James wraps a friendly arm around your waist and beams right back at her. 
“She’s got great taste, doesn’t she?” he asks, and you manage to cast a quick thanks over your shoulder as he steers you back to the table. “See, it’s not just me that thinks you look especially pretty today.” 
“Oh, hush,” you say, taking your seat and looking down to stir your drink bashfully. “What’d you order?” 
“Irish cream latte. Limited edition, apparently.” 
“So, the sweetest thing on the menu.” 
The smile spreads on James’ face. It ebbs and flows like the tide, you think, never really leaving. “You know me so well.” 
The warmth in his voice makes your chest feel hollow and achy. James goes to such lengths to do nice things for you, to show you that he pays attention and thinks about you and cares, and yet when it comes to you he’s left settling for whatever scraps of affection he can get. 
“James…” Your tone reveals your shift in mood instantly, and James’ head straightens the way a dog’s ears perk when it hears something alarming. “You know I want to take things slow, right?” 
He nods, and when he speaks his voice is considerately softer. “Yeah, you’ve said. Do you think we’re—I’m moving things too fast right now?” 
“No, just,” you wet your lips, having some trouble looking at his face, “I don’t know, I feel like I’m not being as good as you deserve. You’re such a sweet person, and I think…sometimes I feel like maybe you’d be happier dating someone who could be more all-in. You know?” 
For a second, the silence is torture. Then: “Someone you’re trying to set me up with, sweetheart?” 
You look up in surprise, but James is smiling again. Softer, now. Almost tentative. You find yourself mirroring him reflexively. 
His knee bumps yours under the table. “I don’t mind moving slowly with you,” he says. 
“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because you seem like you’re ready for more.” And I don’t know if I can manage that yet. 
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He takes your hand in his, and his eyes are soft, sweet caramel. He looks almost like he could love you. “If I’m coming on too strong, you can tell me, but I care about you. It’s hard for me not to be all-in, but that doesn’t mean I’m expecting the same thing from you. You seem like a sane, well-adjusted person.” James nods seriously. “Something I could use, I’ve been told.” He tries to keep the poker face when you grin, but fails in half a second. 
“Okay.” You give his hand a little squeeze. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”
“I won’t,” he says certainly. “I always go for the sweetest thing on the menu, remember?” 
You take your hand back to cover your face, and James’ laughter echoes off the walls. 
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jaidenk-nox · 4 months ago
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Elizabeth midford
Shitty 2AM rant on the Misogyny that Lizzy has faced since the very start but it's the perspective of someone who has witnessed the horrors of Misogyny in Spanish speaking fandom
I should mention that English is not my first language and I'm not very good with it either, so most of this was done with Google Translate and I tried to correct what I could, I hope it's at least readable
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I've never seen enough people point out the fact that Elizabeth midford character also defies the "Girlboss" archetype, she is definitely physically strong and can protect herself, but she is A 15 YEAR OLD GIRL, who manages her emotions like someone her age would and also exhibits many neurodivergent traits. I have always been bothered by the way physical strength is misunderstood as a "girlboss" trait, the simplest example I can think of is Ran Mao, she possesses brutal and superhuman strength. but it doesn't make her a girlboss, in case anyone forgets Ran is a girl who barely reaches 18 years old and is exploited by an opium trader who also seems to be involved in human trafficking (implied in the manga). Is she really a girlboss? girlboss when her physical strength is more of a requirement to SURVIVE while working as an assassin and sometimes seductress (which u can tell she doesn't enjoy much)? Obviously Ranmao's social reality is very different as she is a woman of color from the underworld, unlike Elizabeth, who is a white woman from the nobility. However, her physical strength has always been a double-edged sword for herself. Lizzy longs to get married, like any other girl her age, she longs to be protected but says goodbye to it the moment Ociel returns.
I may seem a bit exaggerated, but the way your sociocultural background affects the way you perceive and treat a character has me slightly traumatized, I wish I could give proof of the horrible and degrading treatment that Lizzy has received from the Spanish-speaking fandom.
I am a trans boy of color who grew up watching my female relatives being encouraged to rip their hearts out of their chest from the moment they turned 8yo for the simple goal of caring for and protecting my cis male relatives. household chores, cooking for them, washing their clothes, taking accountability for their actions. Their freedom and childhood as little girls were taken away from them. but none of that was ever valued, I never saw anyone recognize it as sacrifice.
Elizabeth is not a woman of color, nor does she have those demands as a woman of nobility, but she SACRIFICED stuff to try to protect Ciel on her own way, I have seen many people underestimate her backstory in book of Atlantic because "High heeled shoes aren't reason to cry." Everything Lizzy has done for Ciel is devalued, all her suffering has been minimized. losing so many family members in such a short time, losing the boy you were raised to marry your entire life. People truly forget that lizzy is still just a child, that she has the right to mourn everything she lost that day. She had to mourn publicly as a noble girl,she probably heard that she would never be able to get married or would never achieve happiness, I've never seen any adult to stop and think about how heartbreaking and soul shattering that must have been as a 11yo
I have seen how EVERY thing Lizzy does is judged. how her behavior, personality and temperament are criticized. but other characters like Soma just get a pass while doing the same stuff, but this does not just stop at gender, but also at age. people HATE girls and afabs who act like children when they are literally CHILDREN.
How is it possible that Lizzy has faced such harsh judgment from the fandom when there are other characters like Maam red, Lau, Grell, Undertaker who are universally ADORED or atleast respected in the fandom.
I love u Elizabeth midford but ur character makes me violently ill omfg
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raticalshoez · 4 months ago
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Solace for the Lonely
This was an AU idea I had just aptly named "Life Series Therapy Session" where it stemmed from a stupid headcanon that after a while, Grian started to feel bad for how the games were taking a toll on his friends so instead of being an eldritch horror he uses Watcher like abilities to like.....make therapy for his friends???
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Joel was his guinea pig.
Basically the premise for Joel's session was he had to find closure in his past as one of the lonelier members by helping other members who were cursed with loneliness in other life series' and help them come to terms with things.
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With LL!Scar, Joel is a bit awkward because it's the first person he's conversing with so there's this sorta of whiplash and this season was the one where him going red left them both alone.
Scar is also shocked at the sight of a Joel who isn't mental, and given Scar's track record in later seasons of unfaithful soulmates and forced villainy, Joel finds him the hardest to comfort.
He opts for telling him that one day he'll meet people he can call family, hinting towards the Clockers, but never outright saying it. He thinks back on his time with the Bad Boys, and his unwavering loyalty to them. He thinks the season might've been a step towards a less solitary life for them both.
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When he sees DL!Pearl is his next "client," he's much more confident. He's teamed with Pearl at this point, and he knows that she will not have to suffer her Double Life fate again.
He has to tiptoe around specifically mentioning the Mounders and the fact that they are a group that forms because he doesn't want the Butterfly Effect to take place. Being as vague as possible, he assures Pearl that one day she will find people to be devoted to again (even if he does leave out the part about them all dying before her...for her own wellbeing).
Pearl is naturally skeptical. She's been isolated on this server that's meant to be about love and in this world where DL!Joel is purposefully antagonistic, here he is uncharacteristically telling her everything will turn out okay in the vaguest nature possible. And she's just expected to believe that?
Even so, as he walks away, she can't help but feel a little more hopeful.
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The last person Joel encounters is SL!Lizzie, and this one stings a bit more. Joel knows Lizzie's fate in this world, and it's not pretty for her. Lizzie didn't particularly have a happy story in Last Life either, so something about this is extra unfortunate.
Joel just goes straight in and tells her that he will always be there for her because that is the full truth and he knows Lizzie needs to hear it. Maybe not at this point; maybe at this point SL!Lizzie is completely content and nothing particularly bad has happened to her, and she's wondering why her husband is at her doorstep looking so sympathetic.
But when Joel remembers a certain party, and the way he was still attacked even after being her sole supporter, he feels he has to comfort her, and tell her that he loves her, and somehow make it so her cold and lonely death in the end doesn't feel so bitter after this is all done.
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verysanebsdfan · 5 months ago
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HIIII!!
So I'm not sure if you still write for killua or ciel or tokito😭 but if you do could you do some headcanoes of how they would be with a reader fem If possible that basically acts like a doll looks like a doll and basically is a doll but where also kinda creepy like we talk about disturbing things all with a smile on our face
Another one with all 3 is that reader is very VERY clingy like she loves to hug, cling,and talk to the 3 she's always around them and usually talks to them and is always seen with them !!
(sorry if it's to many)
HII!!
It is no problem whatsoever>_< TY SM FOR REQUESTING AS WELL! i hope it will be to your liking :3
Also i still do write for them but i dont think i will do for too long :(( im getting old...(for them)
tw: u say disturbing things, gore mentioned (sorta i think?), Muichiro one is angsty because i felt evil, spoilers for demon slayer manga ahead!!
our!Ciel Phantomhive, Tokito Muichiro, Killua Zoldyck (separate) x doll-like!reader
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Ciel Phantomhive:
One thing would be the engagement with Lizzy, so for the sake of this, lets say it was canceled for....reasons
Neither of you really remember how you exactly met and got close, or what got Ciel so captivated. It may be the way you dress, always in a pretty dress, which contrasts with your beautiful skin, or maybe the way you walk, talk...he is just down bad.
After you got closer, Ciel let you be more clingy, but when he needs space, you need to respect that, or he will have Sebastian take you away (carefully to not hurt you)
After some time, Ciel actually confesses, and you get engaged cuz....it is still 19th century so...
Now, you basically live there and the servants LOVE you. When Finny is doing his work in the garden, and you sit there and have a tea with Ciel, you look like a pretty painting >_< Thats what he says at least (everyone agrees tho)
When you got to know the...darker side of Ciels business, and all the stuff he does as the queens watchdog, well...you revealed your darker side too i guess
Whenever he tells you about all he did, you always say really disturbing things, and not only him, but also Sebastian loves that >_<
"Hmm *head tilt* I think you should have slowly removed his finger nails, toe nails, and then move onto the fingers...keep them alive tho....then peel off their skin and rub salt into it- ah but thats just an idea!! (*✧×✧*)"
(˘ŏ_ŏ) "what did you just say (name)?"
well!!
Once Lizzy came over for whatever reason she had, and dressed you up, telling you that you look like a doll, no! even better!
Now imagine Ciel coming from wherever he was, and seeing you, his beautiful finacé getting dressed up as a doll, while staring into the space.
However you quickly notice him and attempt to kill him- urm hug him and start talking about your day
Overally really good, has his moments but Sebastian always helps him get better so he doesnt hurt you, emotionally i mean. After all, with him by your side, nothing can happen...
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Tokito Muichiro:
Being a demon slayer is never easy, but when having someone you love by your side, it seems much easier!
When he met you on one of his missions, he thought you were a demon! There was no way a human can be this pretty, and creepy at the same time.
The way you look...empty, without soul, is really weird. The way you move, almost doll like. Thats it! You're a doll!...No that isnt right...no matter
You slay the demon, and then go eat together, because food is superior.
And then again. and again. again.
Until he developed feelings for you.
He didnt really tell you, but there were signs, you unfortunately never noticed them.
When you hug him, he blushes, and when you talk and yap about your day, he makes sure to keep every detail in mind, so he can write it up later.
He has a WHOLE NOTEBOOK dedicated to facts about you, so he doesnt forget.
His favourite part of his notebook are your quotes.
"Hey...Mui...after we kill Muzan, lets live a quiet life, together, okay?"
*to a demon* "if i didnt need to cut your head quickly, i would torture you, slowly, painfully...and then, id leave you exposed to the sun...so you can have a taste of what normal humans see. And then we will go to eat, right Mui?"
"Muii! This dango matches your eyes! LOOK LOOK!"
Down bad.
(i dont rlly remember this 100% cuz i read it some time ago, srry about that) When the last mission came, and you were fighting in the Infinity Castle, you didnt see himget hurt so bad, however, on command, you were directed to the chamber. You saw a horrific scene, what most concerned you however, was bleeding Muichiro. On the floor. Hurt.
You run up to him and take him in your arms, then start crying, and succesfully breaking your doll look.
"(Name)...please...I- i love you"
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Killua Zoldyck:
Okay sooo, you two met at the Hunter Exam, in the first phase lets say
Somehow, you caught his interest, not only you are absolutely gorgeous, but youre also drinking Tonpas juice?! No ordinary girl.
He would observe you during the first phase, seeing the elegant way you run, barely tired...and then, Gon would befriend you, and then Killua! so you would be friends >_< (thank you Gon ily)
You would stick by the main group as in any average killua x reader fanfictions >_<
In the third phase, when it was your turn to fight, it took a real turn.
First, Killua wanted to go fight the big, dangerous looking guy instead of you, but when you refused, he hoped you have some tricks up your sleeve.
"Oh That must be a joke, they sent a little girl against me!" the man would say "how about a death match then?"
uh oh-
"hm...i would love that, but if i were to kill you, i dont think i could stop myself from torturing you, but that would take time, and we've been here for some time...hmmm whatever....I accept!" Ready, set, go! *and he is dead*
Kill is down bad now. What was that?! there was no blood at al, no scream, nothing. Just a loud thud. were you also an assassin?
Who knows.
After that, he knows not to mess with you, and not worry...and also, have you seen how you looked?! Great heavens...
So after a lot of bonding (over choco-robots) you were close...and he liked you, especially after you said his mom is probably a robot becuse WHAT.
You talk shit about his family.
Idk probably confesses before you go to the castle wher Meruem was yk? And brushes it off, i mean, there are worse things happening...
After all the blood shed and pain, and suffering, you meet him and Alluka (my babyyy)
Alluka would 100% love you!! So everything is good...sort of...right? RIGHT? Wrong, his mom doesnt like you but who cares about herrr...
Gon is your biggest shipper :3
( ⓛ ω ⓛ *) - u have choco robots :3?
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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 7 months ago
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Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰
Thomas Shelby as a Father
Tommy x Fem!Reader
Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.
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What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.
We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.
Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.
When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.
Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.
That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.
He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.
Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.
His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.
The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.
All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...
Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.
They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.
Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.
Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.
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acewritesfics · 10 months ago
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Hopelessly In Love | Tommy Shelby
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⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Request: No
Fic Type: Imagine
Warnings: Sarcasm, teasing, two idiots in love.
Word Count: 1,821
TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST
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“I need you," Y/N hears from behind her and turns around to see her best friend standing there, looking exasperated. 
“Good afternoon, Y/N. I sincerely hope your day is going well,” she begins sarcastically as she finishes hanging her mother's latest shipment of dresses on the racks.
Y/N works in her mother's boutique. A boutique in Small Heath sounded ridiculous considering the surroundings but her mother had opened the store, claiming that women needed a nice place to shop among the smoke and grime. “Well Thomas, it’s going so well that I’m sure nothing will bother me for the rest of the day, even when my best friend storms in like some neanderthal claiming he needs me like it’s a matter of life or death.” 
Tommy stood there, his hands in his pocket, looking at her unimpressed, his brows creased into a frown. A smug smirk stretches across her face. 
“What can I do you for, Tommy?” She asks, moving back behind the counter. 
“I need you to go to the races with me,” he tells her removing his hands from his pockets and stepping closer to the counter.  
“What? Has Hell frozen over or is it finally the day women have stopped throwing themselves at Thomas Shelby’s feet?” She teases her childhood friend. “Oh, Tommy, it must be hard,” she says pouting, giving her him a look of false sympathy.  
“Shut it, you,” he glares at her, elbows resting on the counter as he leans forward. “I’m being serious.” 
“Why do you want to take me to the races?” She questions him. They hadn’t been to the races together since before the war. It was sort of their tradition, one that was so easily forgotten when the war was over, and Tommy had thrown himself into making a better name for the Shelby’s. Instead of making the name better, he also made it fearful. “Why don’t you take that pretty barmaid you seem so smitten with. Or Lizzy, who’s more than eager to have a proper date with you.” 
“Why should I take them when I can take you, eh?” he asks, watching her as she busies herself with the clutter on the counter. She looks unsure but Tommy can tell that she’s thinking hard about it. “What are you afraid of?” 
“That you’ll forget all about the barmaid and fall hopelessly in love with me again,” she quips with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just like when we were kids. You could never resist my charm and we don't want to break the barmaid's poor treacherous heart.” 
Y/N couldn't deny that she did like Grace, the barmaid Harry had hired, at first. She seemed lovely and got along quite well with her until she realized Grace was asking her a lot of questions about Tommy. At first, she thought the blonde woman fancied her best friend and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Grace wasn't the first woman to end up with a crush on the blue-eyed devil. Tommy wasn't hard to fall in love with. But when she started asking her about the Shelby family business and the Peaky Blinders, she became suspicious that Grace's interest in Tommy wasn't as genuine as she made it out to be. And then there was the time she caught Grace eavesdropping and snooping around. She began to put two and two together. 
An Irish inspector and a pretty Irish woman, step foot in Small Heath at the same time. The barmaid, who's never actually worked in a pub before now, conveniently gets herself a job at the Garrison, the pub the Shelby Brothers frequent often and just so happens to set her eyes on the leader of the Peaky Blinders.  
She'd tried to talk to Tommy about it, but the stubborn man wouldn't hear any of it so she went to Polly who had also done the math. For a man who claimed to be smart, he became the stupidest idiot she's ever met when it comes to a pretty face. 
“I knew that love tea would have consequences,” he smiles thinking of the times they sat with his mother while she did what she called magic. He purposefully ignores her comment about Grace. He didn't want to talk or think about her right now. His sole focus is on convincing Y/N to go to the races with him, like old times and how he'd promised her all those years ago. “Maybe it’s why I never stopped being hopelessly in love with you.” 
"Don't tell Grace that," she says looking back at him before moving on to inspect the next dress, a pretty deep forest green with black beading and a black lace hem. 
"Fuck Grace," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "This is about us." 
"There is no us, Tommy," she sighs and moves on to the red dress that's not as pretty as the green.  
"Just come to the races with me," he begins. "I haven't taken you in a while. Let me take you again." 
"Do I have a choice?"  
He shakes his head, "No." 
She looks at him, her brows creased into a frown showing her frustration.  
"Wear the green one," he adds, dropping £7 onto the counter.  
"It's only worth £5," she informs him, knowing there is no point in arguing with him. Once Tommy was set on something, there was no stopping him. 
"Buy something to go with it," he suggests. "Maybe some new shoes," he adds as he takes the dress off the mannequin and hands it to her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before he starts making his way out of the store. "I'll pick you up at 8:30 tomorrow morning." 
"I despise you, Thomas Shelby," she calls after him. 
"And I love you, Y/N L/N" he says when he reaches the door and turns to look at her once more. "Hopelessly love you." 
Her smile goes from ear to ear this time as she watches him leave, with a slight shake of her head. She turns to go back to the counter to wrap the dress up and startles when she sees her mother standing there, a knowing smirk on her lips.  
"It's about time that boy made his move," her mother says, taking the dress from her and folds it neatly on the paper they use to wrap the clothing in. "Better late than never, I guess." 
"It's not like that, Mum," she says picking up the £7 Tommy left and placing it inside the till.  
"Of course, it is," her mum argues, walking towards where the shoes are and picks out a pair of black t-strap heels, to match the beading on the dress and brings them over to the counter. "Thomas Shelby has been in love with you since you were both five years old and you've been in love with him for just as long," she adds placing the shoebox on the counter next to the dress. "Don't waste any more time, Darling." 
"I do love him," she admits. "Some days I wonder why." 
"And you'll have plenty more of those days," her mum chuckles. "Now get out of here and go rest up for tomorrow."  
"I love you, mum," she says hugging the woman who gave her life.  
"I love you too, sweetheart." 
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"I must admit, I did miss this," Y/N says, sitting across the table from Tommy as they sat in the VIP area of the racecourse, in the forest green with black beading dress he paid for and heels her mother picked out. 
After a successful day at the races, they made their way up to the VIP lounge where they got a drink, a meal and did some dancing. Tommy was unable to keep his eyes off her from the moment he saw her standing on the curb waiting for him to pick her up. It made driving a little difficult since he tried his hardest to concentrate on the road and not the beautiful woman sitting next him. And then when they got to the races, he glared down, silently threatening the men who dared to let their eyes linger on her.  
"Do you remember the first time we snuck in here?" he asks her, a soft smile on his lips. Leaning back, he watches her as she thinks back to it.  
They were 16 at the time and she had come along with him, his brothers and his father. He'd been to the races plenty of times before, but she'd never been until that day. They both got dressed in their finest clothes back then, which were nowhere near the standard of clothing they were in today. Tommy had tried to talk his way into the VIP section, using that silver tongue of his that he had been born with. Unfortunately, it didn't work, and they had found a space in the back that they could use to sneak into the elegant area reserved for the wealthy.  
They'd spent 10 minutes in the area before they were escorted out and off the grounds of the racecourse and were made to wait there until his dad returned from being inside. That night Tommy had made her a promise. 
"I promise that one day, I will buy you the prettiest dress and we'll go back there, and they'll let us in. When they do, we'll spend the night dancing and when I take you home afterwards, I'll kiss you goodnight." 
She feels her heart skip a beat as she remembers word for word what he had promised her. As she got older, she had always played it off as a silly childish promise that held no real meaning.  
Tommy stood up from his chair and moved round the table, standing beside her as he held his hand out towards her. "Let's go home, Love." 
Y/N takes his hand and stands up, grabbing her clutch off the table and lets him lead her back to his vehicle.  
Once they arrive at the passenger's side, Tommy decides he can't wait until he drops her off home. Stopping her from getting into the car, he pulls her close, a hand on her waist and the other caresses her cheek. 
"Tommy," her voice comes out as a whisper as her heart jumps into her throat at the little space left between them.  
"I can't wait," he breathes, his voice soft as he plants his lips to hers in a soft and sweet kiss. Both their eyes flutter closed as a rush of warmth envelopes them as they pull each other as close as they can, deepening the kiss. 
Tommy is the one to end it when they start to become breathless. "I am hopelessly in love with you." 
"I know," she says, unable to hide her grin as she kisses him again. "I am hopelessly in love with you too, Thomas Shelby." 
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