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everythingne · 1 day ago

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out of the woods — LS2

bahrain goes far better than dhanishka could have ever hoped, but she celebrates a bit too hard. landing herself in troubled waters.

logan sargeant x ferrari!ex!oc / fc: iffat marash/maitreyi ramakrishnan (adult) / hamda al qubaisi (young)

warnings/notes: mentions of past car accidents, drunkeness, a makeout scene,[] used to denote other languages being spoken, the oc is indian/desi, however the author is NOT, pls pls pls correct me on any inaccuracies ♥️

original plot masterlist / rewrite masterlist / b chapter two

Bahrain hasn't even started, Dhanishka's home race hasn't even started, and she already fely like she was about to snap. Dhanishka knew coming into this race there was a lot of pressure on her to do well, not to mention how basically everyone she knew and their fucking mother was here, but from Ferrari alone. This was the season they planned to solidify Charles and Ferrari next to Red Bull. They'd been secretive about their car, their plans, and whatever, just to hopefully psyche out the other teams.

Personally, Dhanishka just wanted to win for herself, but that's a whole other story.

When Dhanishka walk in the race, cameras are on her faster than she can say her name, thousands of eyes watching the only rookie this season as she makes her way into the paddock. Inside the paddock is no better, and the garage can't even be a safe haven as reporters walking the pit lane try to get video of Dhanishka and Charles greeting each other.

He's like a bright red beacon of safety amidst the chaos of this morning. He hands her a coffee, says it's supposed to be some sort of weird chai thing. It tastes... like slightly more bitter and heavily espresso filled chai. But Dhanishka drinks it anyway because lord knows she'll need the energy.

"You look stressed, is it the race?" Charles asks after the first debriefing, when Dhanishka is working on reaction times. She keeps working at whacking the buttons, eyes trained on the center as she also works on periphery.

"I think so." Dhanishka says, uninterested, and Charles purposefully messes up the game so she looks at him with a loud exclamation. He grins, and now understands why Arthur had punched Charles in the arm as a greeting once.

He looks like a cat that knows it's done something wrong, but smugly doesn't care. Like Dhanishka's aunt's big brown cat named Porsche.

They'd bought her a 'Porsche' for her birthday that year. Haha.

"What's it actually?" Charles asks when she catches her breath a little, taking a big gulp of water and then sipping on the coffee-chai-thing.

"I talked to Logan after we left the restaurant and I can't stop thinking about it." Dhanishka set down the cup and go to return to the game before Charles grabs her wrist and pulls her back.

"You talked to him?" Charles pauses, "Dhanishka, you talked--"

"Yes. I talked to him, it didn't go very well. We ended up in a screaming mach in front of the restaurant." And the flush on her face makes Charles hesitate before softly asking,

"Do you wanna talk about it before the race? Maybe get it out of your system so it doesn't affect you while driving?"

"You're talking like you speak from experience."

"Maybe I do." He hums and Dhanishka huffs through her nose, before grabbing both of her drinks when Charles nods his head back to his drivers room. Probably the only place here the two of them could get privacy. He pops Dhanishka down on his couch, shuts the door, and sits next to her, motioning for the girl to talk.

Dhanishka stammers a bit before sighing, “Logan still thinks it’s my fault. He still thinks I had something to do with the accident. And I’m a fucking idiot because I still love him.”

Charles’ eyes widen as Dhanishka leans forward and huffs, rubbing her forehead as she keeps talking, “I still love him after three years. And he doesn’t love me back and that hurts but I can’t do anything about it.”

"You still love him?" Charles asks in a shocked whisper and Dhanishka nods, and then hitches forward with a sharp gasp like she's in pain.

Well, there is a migraine forming behind her eyes. But she pushes it away for now.

Saying the words out loud have thrown every possible emotion in her face. Anger at Logan for breaking up, regret for not chasing him, a deep sorrow for the things Dhanishka had lost. He had been her first love, something so innocent. She didn't know how she was supposed to live without him, not then, not now.

"I do," She whispers through the lump in her throat, "I love him, but I can't even look at him without feeling sick."

For once with all the issues Dhanishka;s come to tell Charles about--past and present, this is one that stumps him. But he wraps an arm around her regardless, pulling the rookie to his side as he rubs his hand along her back. It's a motion she's seen him do to Arthur--especially after he was dropped by the Ferrari Academy, and it makes her want to sob.

But, for favor of a migraine, she bites down the tears. After maybe ten minutes, she's calmed down fully. Or, enough for now.

"No matter what happens, I've got you." Charles says softly when Dhanishka detaches from his side, "just like at dinner, I've got you."

She nod and he hands her a tissue to fix up my makeup. And she stands to wander over to a mirror, Charles watching her body language like a hawk, until Alex knocks and steps in when told to.

"Dani!" She chirps, stepping over to wrap her arms around the rookie, "Ugh, why are you crying?"

"It's just, stupid boy stuff." Dhanishka waves a hand, overing Alexandra a soft smile, "Don't worry about it."

"Well," Alexandra takes Dhanishka' napkin and wipes at her face, "let me know if I need to yell at him."

Charles chuckles, standing, making his way over to press a kiss to her cheek--making Alex yip and complain about him smudging her blush--but the grin on her face shows no anger.

And its the softness of them, in private and public, that makes Dhanishka's mind wander a little bit into the past before she shakes it off at the sound of Joris calling for Charles.

The sun is long set when they start the race, the warm up lap making Dhanishka's nerves spark as my fingers twitch on the steering wheel. She knew Bahrain's track like the backs of her hands, she knew exactly what to expect and what to do and where to go. There had been countless times she'd raced here, but now the stakes were all much much higher. Starting p8 wasn't terrible, anyone would've preferred to be higher but Dhanishka knew to just take what she can get and work with it. She had the ability to do so. In front of her is Yuki, Carlos, Daniel, Charles, Oscar, Lando, and Max. With Logan directly behind her and Alex behind him.

Not super worried about Alex, Dhanishka adjusts her gloves, recounting the driving styles of her contenders. Logan had a pretty similar driving style to her so she should probably worry about him coming up and overtaking. There's a confidence in knowing she can overtake (probably) Yuki, Carlos, and Daniel if she gives herself time and risks going wide when it comes to Carlos. But Lando, Oscar and Max will be her biggest competition. Though she's not sure about Charles, it depends on what team orders are told on the radio.

Within the first five laps, a lucky near miss with Yuki and Carlos allows Dhanishka to cut through them both without a problem, but Daniel's giving her a run for her money. Charles even tries helping, but it's no use, and she takes her place behind Daniel for the foreseeable future as Charles leers ahead.

Holding P6 at the beginning isn't the worst scenario. But there's a tension in waiting until people starting going in to box, hopefully something will allow her to use that to get around.

Eventually, Daniel understeers and it gives her a perfect opportunity to whip around him and she fights a bit before being able to solidify herself in P5. Oscar's ahead of her, Lando ahead of him, Charles in P2 and then Max holds P1. Charles is fighting him for it and with it just being the first race, Dhanishka impressed with how we're doing so far.

At some point Logan comes up behind Dhanishka, maybe in the last five laps? The whole race is an adrenaline blur Dhanishka can't remember. But she knows Logan comes up too hard, forcing him to nearly push her to the edge of the track. On a whim, Dhanishka speeds up, purposefully oversteering the turn to knock Logan off her back.

But, they both are definitely dangerously close to track limits, even if they end up unscathed from the near miss.

Logan swings up on the straight, wheel to wheel with Dhanishka. She knows he plans to force her wide, so she guns it into the turn, skipping her back tires just a tad to keep the turn level. Taking the outside line isn't Dhanishka's forte, but something she's trained for on the off occassion it would happen.

She jams up, and curses, Lando clips the side of Charles in a tight turn, sending debris towards her and Logan. To avoid it, Logan jams on his brakes and dips behind Dhanishka, and she uses Lando's pause as a moment. There's a longer straight here, and she jams the enigne as high as it will go to fly past both drivers. Lando becoming a sort of 'Logan barrier.'

And as she crosses the line, she hears, "Last lap! Hold position!"

And shes honestly just fine defending, letting Max and Charles battle it out for first. Lando holds well with basically 2/3rds of a wing, and Dhanishka's not surprised no safety car gets called for the debris. Which, is still there when she passes the second time.

But as the race is called, Dhanishka's mechanics screaming in her headset, she can't even do anything but let out a loud, "Yes! Yes! Oh, wallahi, wow. Wow. We did it!"

Dhanishka can't really feel anything under the thrum of her excitement, pulling up to the boards in a flurry of thanks to the team as she scrambles to get up and out of the car before she starts shaking from adrenaline. She pops her steering wheel back in, and is tearing off her helmet and balaclava when she hears Charles' laugh.

He scoops her up off the ground, barely giving her time to place her items down, and she bursts into a high laugh--shoving the hat on her head to hide her helmet hair.

"Lets go! 'Ishka!" Charles jumps as he sets her down, and Dhanishka turns to properly give him a hug.

"HOw the hell did I just do that?" Dhanishka asks, looking over her shoulder as Max gives her a solid whack.

"Call it beginners luck," He grins, "Congrats, kid."

Max grabs the brim of her hat and yanks it down, making her yelp in surprise as Charles cackles once more, mixing in a melody with Max's soft rumble of laughter. Lifting up the brim, Dhanishka scowls, playfully whacking Max's chest as a organizer begins ushering them off to their teams. Ferrari is beyond estatic, and Charles lets Dhanishka go first to run and dive into her team. He laughs behind, helping her back down as they pass around to give tight hugs.

"Babli!" Dhanishka's head whips around at her fathers call and she grins, running over faster than she thinks her legs can carry her and crashing into his chest. His arms are solid around her and she hides her face in his shoulder.

"We are so proud of you," He says softly in the rumble of the crowd, her mother agreeing as she dusts back her daughters wild statically tangled hair from the race.

"So so proud," Her mother says, and when she steps back, she makes sure to give her mother and sister two tight hugs before she has to go off to the cool down room with Charles, meetin gup with Max on the way.

Time is blurry when Dhanishka stumbles her way onto the stage. The hometown crowd is roaring, the chanting of various things rattling her bones as she shakes hands with someone and is handed her trophy.

She spots her parents in the crowd, Shivani screaming and clapping, her parents silently cheering her on with proud, beaming smiles.

And Dhanishka throws the trophy up, catching it, and a triumphant shout leaves her throat in time with the roar of the country that's held her in their hearts.

Dipping back into the paddock, Dhanishka sees Logan being ushered away from her by Alex. Even though the sight of him makes her throat close and stomach drop, she tries to keep her head up. Trying to not let it affect me, but she knows it does.

Dhanishka has to remind herself that she told Logan the truth. She let him him go because he wanted to go. Nothing Logan did now would change the way her heart ached for him, but it wouldn't change her decisions either. In F2, she learned quickly to shove her emotions down and never let them escape, and when she wasn't in the safety of Charles' company, Dhanishka felt like she had fallen back into that same routine again.

Cold, sharper than a tack, everything rolled right off. She bit her tongue when necessary, fought back only when provoked.

It was nothing like how she had been before Trident. That much was known. But she wasn't about to be used again. Never again.

A few hours later, Dhanishka is in the hall of the hotel room Charles is staying in, him laying face first on his bed while she fixes up her makeup in a mirror for the upteenth time. He chuckles at something on his phone and Dhanishka glances over, watching as he sits up with a sheepish grin she knows all too well.

"Alex, again?" she inquires and the Monegasque grins like a puppy, making Dhanishka laugh.

"She just was congratulating us," He defends, rubbing the back of his neck before leaning forward.

"Tell her I said thank you," Dhanishka adjusts her outfit once more. Fidgeting while waiting for it to be time to leave, she wasn't sure why she felt so antsy. It was another night out to celebrate the season kickoff, Max inviting most of the grid to one of the clubs Dhanishka had frequented for years with her sister and friends.

Charles stands, adjusting his necklace that lays over the black tee and baggy jeans he's wearing. Nothing too crazy for him, but Dhanishka looks a bit different. With a Ferrari jacket wrapped around her, she hides the little black dress shes wearing underneath, and all the jewelry she's amassed over the years.

"Revenge dress?" He muses to Dhanishka with a smirk, coming behind her, and she rolls her eyes and whacks his arm with a loud laugh.

"It wasn't intended to be, but sure." She grins as she leans over to grab her wine glass off the table in front of the mirror and down the rest of the glass. A loose pregame to the night. She turns back to Charles with a smirk, "Glad to see you've gotten a bit of fashion advice, the polo looks good. If Max is wearing anything Red Bull I'll choke him out."

"I'll help you." Charles laughed and hands Dhanishka his wallet. She pops it in her purse without thinking. She knows it's so she won't run off without him, and while Dhanishka pretends to be annoyed--the action is sweet.

"We have a little private room with some of the other drivers," Charles grabs their phones off the chargers and hands Dhanishka hers as he pockets his, fixes his hair in some sort of habit, and then looks back to her as he grabs the handle of the door, "So, you can leave your stuff there until we leave."

"Sounds good to me." Dhanishka follows him out the door, her heels clicking on the tile on the hallway as they move down to where the carpet starts.

"Logan's gonna be there. That's fine with you?" Charles asks softly, glancing back over his shoulder at Dhanishka and watching as she gives a half hearted shrug.

"I probbaly wont even see him, this club is always packed." Dhanishka reasons. Especially with a private room, where she was sure some of the more introverted drivers would hide in whereas Dhanishka would spend most of her night at the bar. Or the dance floor.

"Are you sure?" Charles holds the elevator door open for Dhanishka, letting her step in before he presses the button down to lobby. As the doors shut, Dhanishka takes a step back to lean against the wall of the elevator and run her fingers along the edges of her hair.

"It's fine. I'm over it." Dhanishka's tone comes out more deflecting than she means for it to, as she looks herself up and down in the mirror of the doors in front of them. She's not afraid to admit that she looks good whether that's the alcohol or the confidence form her P3 talking she can't be sure.

"You cried over Logan this morning," Charles hums, thinking back to his intervention this monring, "but now you're saying you're over it?"

"One," Dhanishka counters, "I look hot."

This makes Charles laugh, shaking his head as she rolls his eyes.

"Two, I just got P3 in my first ever Formula 1 race." I am hot, sexy, breaking the Ferrari curse and beating my ex-boyfriend at the same time. Clearly I am winning in life." Dhanishka playfully does a z-snap at Charles as the doors to the elevator slide open and he has no time to rebute her claim as they make their way into the lobby.

Outside, tucked in the parking garage, was a Ferrari. One sent over by the team for Charles and Dhanishka. They'd only driven it from the airport to the hotel, and now to this club, with a driver from Ferrari too. IT felt like... too much luxury. Dhanishka was well off, sure, but her family had worked their assess off to get where they were. Dhanishka could remember the days of low money and her parents fighitng to get raises..

So now, it just feels like a waste, even when she understands safety is a high prioroity for her now.

But as Charles lets her in the back, she can't deny the new lap of luxury she finds herself in is quite nice. So she leans back with a content sigh, watching as Charles does the same and grins,

"Let's not get too fucked up," He chimes, "early flight tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself, bitch." Dhanishka grins, and Charles bursts into laughter.

dhanishkadubey made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, and 254k others...

dhanishkadubey: kicking off the start of a wonderful szn. much love to the tifosi 🏎️ ❤️ (📷: @ charlesleclerc)

charlesleclerc: ❤️

danielricciardo: this bitch drinks fireball like water.

-- dhanishkadubey: ur rlly exposing me like this danny :(?

user1: congrats on p3!!!

oscarpiastri: go dhanishka go !!

user2: tensions rising in the loscar fandom tn

maxverstappen: great start to your rookie year, dhanishka :)

anyadubey: YAAA THATS MY SEXY SISTER!!!

user3: actually in love w her.

When the two Ferrari drivers arrive at the club, the place is already going hard. Early 2000s music pulses from various speakers, the lights flashing to the beat of who Dhanishka thinks is Britney Spears mixed with that one song from Saltburn. It's Daniel who greets the two in the upstairs room, showing them where to leave their bags and jackets while Charles is escorted off to the side by Pierre and Max. Dhanishka spots Esteban and Lance chatting idly with Magnussen and some other racers. It's odd combinations tonight, as the grouping strays from the normal clumps of friends, but it means Dhanishka luckily find myself engrossed in a conversation with Alex and George maybe thirty minutes after getting inside.

The most normal pair of the night, other than Lando and Oscar miserably failing at some game in a corner of the club.

"I seriously thought you were gonna be much meaner!" George shouts over the pulsing music and Dhanishka laughs as he hands her a drink from the bartender. Taking a big sip, Dhanishka thanks the bartender, nodding at the sour taste she's expecting from the cocktail.

Catching George's eye, Dhanishka teases, "Do you want me to be?"

"God no," George waves a hand in her direction with a soft laugh, something playful and almost childlike gleaming in his eyes as he tilts his head, "Carmen's plenty mean to me."

"Oh stop!" Alex scoffs, whacking George's arm, "As if Carmen's little jabs equate to Lily's!"

"Didn't you literally call Lily the doll from Squid Game?" Dhanishka pipes up to ask, then pops her straw in her mouth and take a slow sip. Alex freezes as if he's been caught red handed, and George suppresses a giggle.

"Look..." Alex holds up a hand in defense but George and Dhanishka are laughing too hard to really hear whatever excuse he uses to defend his actions. The night is young and free, but across the bar Dhanishka can't help but catch a set of blue eyes.

Beer dribbles across Logans lips, and as if payback for the resturant, Logan lifts a thumb to slowly trace the remnants off his lip before grinning mischievously and turning back into the crowd with a drunken sway.

Even if he's gone, Dhanishka can feel his hands haunting along her skin--memories that refuse to die--even as she chugs the rest of her drink and orders another to calm her nerves.

"Okay, can I ask you a question, Dhanishka?" Alex asks when George leans on the bar next to him. Instinctually, Alex is leaning forward on the bar as Dhanishka settle in her seat. A now stronger version of her previous drink in hand. With a bit of hesitance, Dhanishka nods and Alex takes a pause to roll the question through his head. He takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and turns to ask, "If you wanna answer, what exactly happened with you and Logan? 'Cause he's been moping since you got announced to be racing with Ferrari and I might lose my mind if he doesn't knock it off."

"Oh god," Dhanishka says into her midori sour, taking the bitter drink into her mouth and swallowing it and setting my hand over the cup as she settles it in her lap. George leans over to look, head slightly tilted like a puppy as Alex quickly speaks up.

"If you don't wanna say anything, it's fine, but--"

"--No, no. It's fine Alex," She's quick to wave a hand, "uhm, Logan and I started dating when we were racing in Renault, but we'd been kinda... I guess flirty since the end of our formative years and into like secondary school. We were... I was fifteen, so he was seventeen or sixteen at the time? It was just like... puppy love, y'know? Pure and innocent, nothing too serious.

"And, we were both in love and it was nice. It really was nice. But, when that crash happened with Trident, I think something snapped in him. I... the breakup... it came from nowhere. I don't know if it was because he was mad, thinking I had something to do with it, or if he just... didn't know what to do and needed control after Trident took that P2 position from him? I don't know. We hadn't spoken since that day until last night."

"You talked to him last night?" Alex asks with slightly wide eyes, George's jaw dropping like a teenager, Dhanishka manages a shaky nod, taking another sip of the drink.

"We argued about it last night while waiting to leave." She sighs, rolling her shoulders as she pops the straw between her lips and takes a long slow sip, then she speaks, "He thought I had something to do with the crash, I told him I didn't, he asked me why I let him leave--which, Alex, feel free to tell him I think that's a dumb fucking question. I wasn't gonna force him to stay if he was unhappy, or if he didn't wanna date anymore. I'm not a monster."

"Wait, wait," George waves a hand to grab her attention and she turns to him with a soft hum, "So is he mad at you?"

"I don't know," Dhanishka finishes off the second drink, noticing both George and Alex are not even halfway down their first drinks. Oops. She can't find it in her to care, "I can't tell with him. I would completely understand if he was furious about everything, but none of it was my fault. I didn't even know Trident planned to crash into him!"

"I'm gonna try talking to him," Alex looks over at someone to the right of Dhanishka, towards where Logan had been earlier, and she doesn't even have to look to know he means Logan's there. Slowly, she shrugs. Alex takes that as his permission to slip off the stool, George hesitating to follow. Luckily, he lingers long enough to ask Dhanishka where she's going-- and escorts her up to the VIP room, to make sure she arrives fine, and then leaves Dhanishka to Daniel. There's a pause as he finishes his shot with Max, who grins at Dhanishka and gives her a side hug as she steps closer.

"You've had something to drink, right?" Daniel asks and Dhanishka nods. Max taking a 'chaser' of his gin and tonic shortly after as Lando and Charles come over form where Carlos has been attempting to teach the two darts.

"Join us for a couple drinks, y'know, for the race winner!" Danny drags Dhanishka away from Max giving her a loose side hug as Max tilts back his drink and finishes it off.

"Ay," Carlos whacks Max's back, nearly making the Dutch man choke on the last few drops of his drink, "She's the winner, not you."

The group laughs, moving through the room, and finding themselves in the back corner of one of the bars in the club. Throughout their time crowded there, drivers come and go. Oscar and Lily sit for an hour before leaving for the night, Alex and George staying for a long while before Alex goes off to find where Logan's playing pool with Lando. Eventually, Checo approaches, ordering every driver in the vicinity the strongest tequila he can find, and having them all take various numbers of shots.

As the night gets woozy, Dhanishka finishes up their tabs by ordering everyone soju shots with water glasses as chasers, standing up as she shouts over the music, "Here's to a good season ahead!"

The group cheers whilst tapping their glasses together, and to the nearest surface, before downing the sweet liquid. As the night in the club pulls to an unceremonious close, groups begins to clump together. Dhanishka ending up with Max, Charles, and Daniela round five when the club starts to close up. So much for her early flight.

"Danny!" She calls to the Australian, who turns in a full circle before realizing where she's standing. He nods, smiling as he loosely stumbles closer to Dhanishka doesn't have to shout.

"The bathrooms right there," She points to a hallway and Daniel nods, "Can you grab my stuff and I'll meet you guys by the door?"

"Yeah, just be quick! Text me if you need anything!" He squeezes Dhanishka's arm and turns to the fleeting call of Max. It doesn't take much effort for Dhanishka to control her swaying enough to make her way down the stairs with solid methodical steps.

She's far too drunk for this.

Her knee buckles on the last step, her hand flying out to catch herself before she plummets, and two hands shoot out to grab her by the ribs and yank her forward--crashing her against the strangers chest. The warm palms that cover her ribs are far too familiar, and Dhanishka steps back to profusely apologize and thank the stranger in the same breath. However, the sight of blue eyes draws the air out of her lungs involuntarily, her chest and cheeks burning red.

Dhanishka, somehow, swallows her pride enough to squeak out a small thank you.

Logan's eye twitches in frustration as his hands drop to his sides now that Dhanishka stands steady. He can't hide the bite in his voice as he says,, "Are you going to tell everyone about our break-up?"

"Alex and George asked, asshole." Dhanishka fires back, "And why does it matter? Everything was blasted online! If I said no, they'd probably just look it up, and I'd rather they got the truth."

"Or the lie that you had no part in it." Logan mutters, going to move past him, and Dhanishka cuts him off.

"Are you going to start a fucking fight everytime I see you?"

The hallway is quiet with tension Dhanishka feels suffocating her. She can't breathe, can't think. She definitely can't when Logan yanks her down the hall, pushing her into a darkened corner and boxing her in as some strangers pass by. They probably assume the two are flirting, giggling behind hands, soft compliments whispered between kisses, drunken smiles. If only they knew the look in Logan's eyes. Something dark. Something Dhanishka hasn't seen on his face before. She wants so badly to decipher it, but she'd lose the guide to Logan's emotions years ago, like the beads of her necklace that had fallen down the drain.

"You..." He scrambles to find the words, fists opening and closing in frustration as his eyes flicker up to Dhanishka, "You are some sort of sickness I can't get rid of--a fucking plague in my thoughts--always fucking there."

He's closer, chest blocking the light from the hall, his hand on her jaw forcing her face up as he grits his teeth, "And you look far too pretty when you're smug like this."

"You're quite cute when you're angry too, Sargeant." Dhanishka says, and his lips dip down--but pause. Ever the gentleman, he waits for a moment for Dhanishka. His hands coming to rest on her ribs like he'd just saved her again.

Her bangles clink when her arm lifts to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him down the rest of the way and into her lips. They fit together like a warm blanket on a cold day. Lips intertwined. As if sewn together, the kiss a perfect remedy to a broken heart. Logan's hands are solid, controlled against her body as he brings her closer until he can slide them down to rest across her lower back. Dhanishka arching into him between two, deep, slow, well timed kisses that send her mind tumbling back to nights hidden under the blankets on the couch--praying no one was awake as they tested the waters of simple teenage love. The kiss brings back Dhanishka's warm heart, sending it pounding in each other limbs, making her dizzy and weightless. She knows Logan feels it too, the unmistakable feeling of being right where you were supposed to be.

His lips tumble down her jaw, smearing lipstick against her neck, and the feeling makes Dhanishka gasp, her eyes flying open, "Logan--why are we doing this to ourselves?"

He steps back then, lips red from hers, a slight puff as he mumbles, "What are you talking about?"

"We shouldnt... this is all going to mean nothing tomorrow, you realize that, right?" Dhanishka swallows, "We're drunk and..."

"We're drunk, and I still love you." He whispers and Dhanishka feels tears pool in her eyes. She prays that, somehow, between the tequila and the soju she won't remember this in the morning.

"Don't say that." She whispers, and Logan nods, his words falling out with a warm breath that feels like a fire against her neck, "Can I show you it instead?"

Dhanishka nods. And it's the best, and worst decision she's ever made. His hands pull her back in, pressing her back against the wall with his chest holding her back. Her hands raise to curl into his hair, each kiss feeling like centuries worth of longing. Like falling in love, over and over again. He nips her bottom lip, using a knee to knock Dhanishka's legs apart to step between them. He leans in, presses just right to have a familiar, years long gone heat curling up Dhanishka's stomach.

"Lo, please." Dhanishka isn't even sure what shes asking. More? Less? She can't tell, but Logan isn't slowing down. The pulse of the club's last songs rumbles through the wall in vibrations that make Dhanishka's already spinning world practically buzz. The feeling, mixed with the way Logan's hands teasingly drift just enough lower as he drags her in once more, making sure she feels everything, has Dhanishka breaking the kiss with a whimper.

A few more kisses scatter across their time, and finally when the light headed feeling gets enough, Logan leans back but only enough to rest their foreheads together. He's stained with lipstick. Dhanishk a is sure she is too. 22R being the only thing linking them together. When she swallows, her mouth no longer tastes like tequila and soju, a lingering hint of whiskey and shitty bottled beer stains her tongue. It's everything she knows to run from, and yet, she finds she needs it more now than ever.

When their eyes met, Logan seems to sober. Sheepishly murmuring, "That was an accident."

The words Dhanishka had wanted him to say earlier, the sobering realization she had been hoping he'd have before crashing her lips into his, suddenly feels like a knife piercing her heart. She feels like he's carving her open, taking her heart into his hands like a toy.

"You started this." She whispers harshly, shoving Logan back. He stumbles, now looking up at her like a kicked puppy as she sneers, "You're the one who can't ignore me! I've spent so long blocking you out, why can't you just go away! You keep doing all these things, and they take me back--"

"Don't act like you didn't want that too!" He counters, "And don't pretend its only you suffering, Dhanishka! I'm suffering too! I miss you as much as I did the day you left."

"I didn't leave, you broke up with me!" Dhanishka wipes a hand futilely across her neck, as if scrubbing away the truth imbedded with teeth marks on her skin. She hates the tears that well in her eyes, "How is that my fucking fault?!"

"You knew!"

"Fuck off with that! I would never!" Dhanishka shoves Logan fully out of her way now. He hits the wall, stunned, before his hand darts out tog rab her wrist in a gentle hold--

"Isa, please." He begs, but whatever rebuttal he has is lost over the ringing in her ears over the nickname that used to make her giddy in his accent. She tears herself away with lightning speed as the lights in the club brighten, she turns to look at herself in the hall mirror and fix herself up.

"You don't get to call me that." She hisses, before rubbing at her neck until it's raw as she runs up the stairs away from her mistakes. Logan calls for her again, but she doesn't care, dipping through the crowd until she finds Danny and Max waiting by the doors. She doesn't say anything, just pushes herself out of the club, stumbling to where she sees Charles standing by the side of the building.

She feels so sick she just stumbles up and crashes into his chest in a shaky sob. Charles is quick to ask a million questions, but Dhanishka brushes each one off--she's tired, she's just not in it tonight, she wants to go home. It's almost like Charles' knows its somethign else, though he never says, he just holds Dhanishka to his chest as they wait for their ride with Max and Danny on the corner.

He doesn't say anything when Logan walks past them, calling goodnight with the floral scent of Dhanishka's perfume and the marks of her lips on his neck, clinging to him as he walks by without even a glance back.

liked by logansargeant, mclarenracing, lancestroll, and others...

f1: Due to track limits, @ dhanishkadubey will receive a unique 'grid penalty' of five 'point places.' This penalty will only affect her points, dropping her to +10pts rather than+25pts. She will keep her title and trophy.

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general tag list (open, tagged in all my fics, inbox to be removed for this series)

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins @armystay89

series specific (open, thank you!)

@awritingtree

#f1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 smau #formula one fic #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #formula one oc #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant x oc #ls2 fic #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fanfiction

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poettheythem · 1 year ago

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They hold power to abuse it

Do you ever get mad at your posotion

You are strong and powerful

You could look gods in the face and not blink

But you still don't have power in the system

You can fight, you can protest, you can scream and shout

But one person holds all the power

And the person is mean

The person holds it to abuse it

You try to fight but if you do you are killed

You want to fight but if you do you will be expelled

You want to protest but if you do you will be punished

You want to push back but if you do the others you care about will be hurt

The only thing you want is peace and joy but they took it

The only way you can fight will get you lost

You have a voice when they want you too but when you use it against them you must be put down

Like a dog

Because thats all you are

A dog

We're all dogs

And the power they hold is just to be abused

They wont punish those who derive it

Those who are racist, anti-semitic, misogynistic,

They will be able to move forward

But the person who care

The person who loves

The person who cares

They will be punished for questioning the princesses crown

And everyone will pay for it

Because She who holds the power only holds it to abuse it

#poetry #poets on tumblr #my favorite teacher just got fired #because she disciplined a student for being rude and cruel to others #but her moms the puppet master of the school #so shes gone #leaving the entire theater department in disarray #She got fired for disciplining another student #and her mother tried to make her apologies for it #because that makes sense #and when she didn't she got her fired #I fucking hate my school #I hate this so much #you want to know how good of a person my teacher is #when me and other students said we would protest at the school(Over our winter break)#she said to not do it #because she doesn't want us to get in trouble or hurt from it

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starry-bi-sky · 5 months ago

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don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danyal al ghul au #dpxdc au #dp x dc au #dpxdc prompt #ive been playing cult of the lamb recently and you can tell #anyways i thought this was funny to think about. its specifically danyal al ghul bc that makes it even funnier #tfw you accidentally become a cult leader. rip to you danny you have a cult following #not at ALL an accurate depiction of a cult but i still think its funny. innaccurate cult depictions. ur in too deep to change it now danno #sam and tucker: hey dude... this is a cult | danny still learning how to People: what. no. these are all my friends and refugees.#his inner circle are all Insane about him they just show it in different ways. Sirius is as equally zealous as the rest they just don't #show it as much. which has mistakenly convinced danyal that they are the more logical one. no danny. they would kill for you #danny: i am being hospitable | sam: you created a cult | danny: i am being hosPITABLE #i dont like ghost king aus but i love danny being in positions of power it just has to feel earned. 'accidental kingdom acquisition' is my #favorite trope it just has to be done correctly. 🫵 build that bitch up with your bare hands and not realize until its too late you fool #'becoming a world power by accident and im in too deep to back out now'#danyal. a raised assassin (has no threshold for normal behavior): *sees utter devotion towards him* yeah this is fine and normal.#danyal: yk i dont see this ending horribly. *goes and collects more followers* yeah this is totally cool. welcome to the constellation #danyal: *saves a few people and houses them in his lair* (everyone liked that [to a worrying degree actually])#his inner circle: my moon! | danny: my stars :]#danny: ive become my grandfather. | danny: ... | danny: idk how to feel about that honestly.#those poor cultists that kidnapped antares were subjected to a 3hr tangent about 'the radiance of the Moon and his resplendent generosity'#before danyal found him and got him home. who were the cultists summoning? who knows! but they got Objectively the Worst out of the #constellation to summon by accident. actually they're all bad there's no picking who. they're all various amounts of Unhinged Danny just #Never Realizes It because he is also Unhinged and thinks some of this shit is normal.#like yeah thats totally normal behavior he has no questions whatsoever. this seems like Typical People Stuff.

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megaderping · 1 month ago

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I feel like when people emphasize Akechi's murders, they often act like his motivation only boils down to "daddy issues" or they really make light of the impacts societal discrimination can have on a person. "But Futaba didn't end up like Akechi," I've seen people say, but the thing is, Akechi is meant to show the worst case scenario. Someone without anyone left to uplift him, to ground him, and to give him a reason to be better. Futaba had Sojiro, though that hardly justifies her mother's death, nor the horrible mistreatment from her relatives or what Shido put her through by framing Wakaba's death as a suicide. Futaba was in a very dark place, and she needed a helping hand. The Phantom Thieves saved her. But Akechi didn't have that helping hand when he needed it most. He lost his mother at a very young age, endured the foster system, never finding a new forever home, and at his absolute lowest point, was granted power he didn't understand with no one to guide him, and wanted to get close to Shido to one day backstab him and give him a taste of his own medicine. The murders came later, when Shido "instructed him." And given the way Shido yells at Akechi about what happens to people who cross him, and given what he did to Futaba (the men in suits), his cleaner, and how many people he had on his side, on top of Sojiro making it very clear how cutthroat Shido was to his enemies... Akechi was screwed no matter what. His face, his name, all of it could be used to ruin him in the real world. Alone, he would not have been enough to go through Shido's Palace, given how much trouble the Phantom Thieves had as a group. Plus, y'know, this:

Something so many people ignore when they talk about Akechi and his murders and ignore everything else the narrative tries to say about him.

What P5 tries to say about Akechi is so important to its core themes. That, if Akechi hadn't been a victim of so much injustice, he might have never gone to such lengths. That doesn't undo the damage he's done, but it's so important to understanding why the game approaches him with sympathy rather than writing him off as pure evil. Because it didn't have to be this way. If he had just met Joker sooner, if he had just had somebody. Akechi represents what can happen to vulnerable children who are failed by systems meant to uphold justice and other ideals, and how those who have nothing, who have only ever been hurt, are far more likely to lash out in turn. Persona 5 places so much importance on the suffering of children and the ways society needs to improve for the sake of children. That, I think, is one of the key reasons Akechi is framed as a victim. He is a warning, a cry to do better.

#goro akechi #p5 meta #persona 5 #akechi goro #p5 akechi #dorkvents

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tealvenetianmask · 2 months ago

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I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

#ghostfuckers #apology tour #blitz #blitzo #blitzo buckzo #millie #rolando #stolitz #verosika #my helluva meta #helluva boss

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lilacrwses · 2 months ago

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▸ their s/o is drunk and doesn't recognize 'em

summary: Partying all night, dancing and definitely drinking made you drunk enough to not recognize your sweet boyfriend.

ft: iwaizumi, bokuto

note: i hope you guys like this, it’s been a while

Iwaizumi

Iwa just came back from a training camp overseas, so he was really tired and just want to cuddle with you.

Might he be forgetting that you were partying out with your friends so he expects that you won't be coming home early?

He did quite everything while waiting for you, cleaning the apartment-which by the way he realized that it was already clean enough on its own.

He took a bath, and would probably get in trouble as he used your favorite bath bomb without permission, but nothing a kiss can't fix.

Well, what he had to do next was just wait for you. The moment his phone lights up and recognizes his ringtone only for your contact- he rushes swiftly and answered it only to be welcomed by your friends voice?

"Iwaizumi-chan, hello! Can you pick up Y/n at XXX-XXX-XXX. She's pretty tipsy at the momeng. Don't rush though! we'll be with her till you're here." He gets his car keys and locks the apartment door before going out. "I'll be there in 5." He quickly presses the red button which ends the call.

Numerous thoughts were clouding his brain right now. Mainly focused on you and how tipsy are you.

In just a couple of minutes, his phone had told him to turn and then he'll arrive at his destination. No doubt that you were right there sitting out at one of the chairs of the club with your friends.

To say that you were cute doing nothing makes him realize how badly he's down for you.

"Iwaizumi-chan! Thank god you're here. She's been telling us how much she misses you, please take care of her from her." Iwa nods and gave a wave to your friends and then focuses his vision on your body.

He walked closer to your figure and helped you stand, but he was just pushed away. Dumbfounded he cooed you and tried again.

"If you lay your hand on me one. more. time, I promise my boyfriend will beat you into a pulp." he smirks and leans in closer to your face.

"Oh yeah? I bet you must love your boyfriend to reject someone like me huh." He plays along with the drunken act. "I love him so much that it hurts." He panics when tears came out of his eyes.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" Iwaizumi cups your cheeks and wiped the stray tears away. You looked into his eyes and you noticed a familiar warm loving gaze that you'd been missing for a while.

"Are you my hajime? B-but he wasn’t supposed to come home till….tonight" You hiccup.

“You’re my haji!”

"Yes, baby. Now, will you let me touch you now?" You nodded and jumped into his arms right now.

"Ooof- Careful right there." He didn't hear anything but your cute little snores, he might be tired right now but having that little talk with you just gave him a bit-- a lot of energy in return.

Bokuto

This big ball of fluff was with his teammates for an after-party game.

You, on the other hand, are with your friends and are bar hopping. Expectantly Bokuto wandered his eyes searching for a familiar person, but none to be found.

He just thought that you are still probably having fun with your friends.

He reassured himself that a little bit over twelve is still early so here he is patiently waiting for you (even though there's a slight chance you'll never come) while still enjoying his time with his very own friends.

From the perspective of his teammates, it was odd to see Bokuto sitting in one place and not moving so much. Is it because of his drink?

The loud music of the bar made communication a tad difficult. However, Bokuto did not fail to hear his phone ring with the help of the ringing vibration, of course.

His face did lit up when he saw your nickname on his screen and almost took no time to answer the phone.

"My pretty baby! I miss you so much, What took you so long to call, I was waiting." Bokuto is now in his baby voice pouting, much to his joy it was actually your friend who called him and told him you guys were sitting from a distance to where he and his teammates were.

"Oh, thanks! I'll be right there in a minute." It might seem that Bokuto was drinking beer the whole time but it was actually just an orange juice. He didn't plan on getting drunk before he could pick you up.

Akaashi had told him it was not a gentlemanly move to be drunk and be taken care of his s/o. But to be completely honest, Akaashi just told him that so he could spare you handling Bokuto's weakness #12.

He finally saw where you were when he noticed one of your friends waved their hands to get Bokuto's attention. "Bokuto-kun, we're really sorry. She got pretty enthusiastic and got carried away." your friend scratched her nape.

"It's ok, I'll take her from here. Thanks for dropping by though."

Your friends bid goodbyes to Bokuto before leaving. Your boyfriend helped you stand up, you were blinking your eyes trying to see the person that's in front of you. The moment Bokuto landed his hands to your waist you pushed him enough to collide with another person.

Bokuto apologized repeatedly before directing his attention to you again. His thoughts start to bother him. Couldn't you recognize him? How many drinks did you take?

But He tried again, "Y/n baby, it's Kou. You're boyfriend." It seemed that his puppy eyes were enough for you to recognize him.

"Kou?" He nodded

"Yes! Yes, baby!"

You immediately jumped your way to Bokuto, and kissed him."You're my Kou!" He laughed catching you in his arms. "Now let's get you home." He kisses your lips before dropping a text to his team's group chat.

Akaashi was right! He should be taking care of you when you're drunk. Only because he gets to see this new side of you.

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pickingupmymercedes · 7 months ago

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She's not here, but she'll be - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

requests: "hello can i request one with lewis where he has been having a baby fever ... fluff and smut of course. and can we have a very slow and sexy one because he wants to take his time with her 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻" - anon 2 ;

"hi, can I request a prequel to She's here and she's ours ... maybe it was hard to conceive and things weren't always all flowers" - anon 1

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: mentions of troubles with infertility, unprotected sexual activities (all sorts)

Also, wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Combined requests again because anon 2 asked for something that gave me the idea for the prequeal (sorry for how long it took anon 1, but hope the wait was worth it)

a/n.2: The tone of this whole series is mixing angst and fluff, this time I added a bit of smut too, hope you guys like it

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The discarded ovulation test lay on the bathroom counter, a white plastic screaming what her ovulation app had already warned to. Y/n stared at it, not really sure she even wanted to know about it that month.

The more you want something, the harder it is. That's what they said anyway, and apparently it wasn't any different when it came to “trying” to get pregnant, a euphemism that felt increasingly hollow with each passing cycle.

Doctors assured her a year was still considered normal, but the constant hum of wanting, the way it colored every conversation, every shared glance, was starting to wear on them both.

Six months. Six months of basal body temperatures, ovulation predictors, and Lewis’ frustrated attempts at scheduling "baby time" around his chaotic schedule.

“Again?” as Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he saw her face, then the test on her hands and his smile faltered.

He sighed, walking over to wrap his arms around Y/n. She leaned into him, but the spark of hope she usually felt was absent.

"It's been too long, Lew" she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. " The schedules, apps, and ovulation calendars. It's driving me insane."

“Maybe we just need to try harder” he suggested, trying to be optimistic. But the forced cheer didn't fool her.

“Harder?” Y/n pulled back slightly, the edge in her voice surprising even herself. “Lewis, it's like we're robots. Everything's always timed, charted…”

Lewis turned to face her. "You think I enjoy this? Every time we fail, it's like there's this... pressure. Like if it doesn't work, it's my fault."

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his. "It's not about fault. It's about us. It feels like we’re losing sight of why we wanted this in the first place."

"It's not supposed to feel calculated, is it?" he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. "We both want this, right?"

"Of course, we do," Y/n insisted, her voice a touch too sharp. "But it's like we're robots following a program instead of… you know, a couple."

He took a step back, his face contorting with hurt. "That's not fair, Y/N. We’re trying our best here. Circumstances might not be the most ideal but it’s what we got"

Tears welled up in her eyes, her frustration boiling over. Lewis's shoulders slumped as he saw the evident fear in her eyes, his anger giving way to hopelessness. "I just... I don't know what else to do."

"Maybe," Y/N's voice held such certainty that surprised even herself, "maybe we should take a break.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise starting to take hold in his eyes. "A break? From trying?"

"Yeah," she took a deep breath before continuing, a growing conviction in her tone. "From the apps, schedules, calendar, the whole... stress. We just focus on us, and why we want this."

He was silent for a moment, considering her words. "What if it takes even longer?"

"Then... we'll deal with that when we get there," she said, her hand gently touching his cheek. "I want this pregnancy, but not like this. Not at the cost of us."

Lewis closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of their struggles hanging heavy in the air. He shook his head with an understanding nod "We've been so caught up in this that we've forgotten about us." he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

"I love you; you know ?!" she whispered, the words catching him by surprise in their suddenness. She hadn't said them in days, maybe weeks, the unspoken worry choking the words back.

Lewis tilted his head, his gaze searching hers. "I love you, always." His voice was laced with tenderness. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "We'll get there " he whispered. "We'll have our family. I believe that with all my heart."

The positive pregnancy test felt surreal. Lewis and Y/n sat on the bed, the silence in the room only broken by the soft hum of the air conditioner. The digital test lay between them, its stark message still blinking: "Pregnant 5-6 weeks."

Y/n turned to Lewis, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and disbelief. "This can’t be real," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’ve been on the pill... we weren’t even trying."

Lewis stared at the test, then at her, his mind struggling to process the information. "We haven't thought about having kids for over a year." he stated, his voice filled with bewilderment

Tears filled Y/n’s eyes, but this time a mix of confusion and hope. "I didn’t even think about missing my period." she confessed. "I thought it was just the stress of the season, the move, the change in routines…"

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "This is real," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We’re really going to be parents."

They sat there for a while, holding each other, the reality of their news slowly sinking in. The past months of not even considering pregnancy, of relying on birth control, seemed to amplify the miracle of this moment. The weight of their previous struggles felt lighter, replaced by the shock and anticipation of the new life they had miraculously created.

"Five to six weeks," Y/n murmured, looking at the test again. "How could this happen?"

Lewis frowned, trying to remember. "What were we doing around then?" he asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

Y/n bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. "I don’t know... maybe I missed a pill or something. But I really thought I was careful."

Lewis looked at her thoughtfully, his fingers tracing soothing circles on her hands “That’s not on you love, we decided on no condoms, remember?! We knew it could happen”.

Then, out of the blue with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Wait a minute," he said, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Silverstone."

Y/n’s eyes widened as she remembered and stated "Silverstone!” Lewis nodded, a grin spreading across his face. Y/n's cheeks flushed as she recalled the night. She looked at Lewis, a smile spreading across her face despite the lingering shock.

Lewis looked at her, his grin widening. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Y/n laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I guess we were celebrating more than just you that night."

"We were celebrating us" Lewis said, his voice filled with warmth and love. "And now, we have even more to celebrate."

He leaned in, kissing her tenderly, resting their foreheads against each other when they pulled back.

"We're going to be parents," she whispered, the reality finally settling in.

"We're going to be parents," Lewis echoed, his heart swelling with joy and excitement. "I love you, Y/n. And I love our little one so much already."

The Silverstone circuit buzzed with the electric energy of a crowd celebrating a hero’s homecoming. Lewis, now a Ferrari driver, had held his own, going from p3 at the starting line to the tallest step of the podium, beaming as the Union Jack waved above him.

After the race, the celebration shifted to a more intimate setting. Lewis’s family, Y/n, and a tight-knit group of friends gathered at a house in the countryside nearby. The energy of the race lingered, laughter and music filling the air. It was a night of toasts.

As the party slowly wound down, the house fell silent. Guests retired to their rooms, and the sun began to hint at its arrival on the horizon, leaving Lewis and Y/n by themselves in the garden, the weight of the day finally sinking in.

“Can you believe it?” Lewis whispered, his voice hoarse from cheering. He was sprawled on the couch, Y/n nestled against him.

“You were amazing,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m so proud of you.”

He kissed her forehead gently, his eyes closing as he felt the exhaustion wash over him. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll celebrate properly tomorrow.”

Y/n nodded, her eyelids heavy and he led them to their bedroom.

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the unknown room. Y/n stirred, her body snug against Lewis’s as he spooned her, one arms securely holding her close and the other serving as her pillow.

As she shifted, she felt a familiar pressure against her back. She turned slightly, her eyes opening to find Lewis still asleep, his breathing was steady, but she could feel his arousal pressing into her. A soft moan escaped his lips as he dreamt, his hips subtly moving against her.

Y/n smiled to herself, a gentle warmth spreading through her at the feeling of him. She shifted again, trying not to wake him, but his eyes fluttered open. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning, champ,” she replied softly, turning her head to look at him.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling despite the lingering fatigue. “I must have been having a really good dream,” he joked, his hand sliding down to rest on her hip.

Y/n chuckled, pressing back against him. “I noticed” she teased rubbing her ass with a bit more vigor against him.

She could feel his arousal growing more insistent as his breaths came out in hisses. She bit her lip, considering their options. “Do you think anyone’s awake?” she whispered, glancing towards the door.

“Probably,” Lewis replied, his hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to caress her skin. “But we can be quiet.”

A shiver ran through her at his touch, and she nodded. “I doubt you’ll let me” her voice dropping to a whisper. He smiled mischievously, his fingers trailing up her side. “I’ll try,” he promised.

Slowly, he rolled her onto her side, spooning her again from behind. He nuzzled into her neck, his hand sliding down to the waistband of her shorts. She held her breath as his fingers slipped inside, brushing against her most sensitive spot.

She gasped softly, biting her lip to stifle the sound. “Lew” she breathed, her hips instinctively pressing back against him.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, teasing and exploring until she was panting with need. Her hands gripped the sheets, trying to stay quiet as he worked her up.

When he finally slid a finger inside her, she had to bite down on the pillow to keep from crying out. He added another finger, stretching her gently, his movements unhurried and tender. She could feel his breath hot against her neck, his own restraint evident in the way he held her.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yeah” she whispered, barely able to speak. “Please.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips as he slowly pushed inside. She moaned softly, the feeling of him filling her almost overwhelming. He paused once he was fully seated, giving her time to adjust, the pause also helping him control his breathing.

When she took a deep breath, relaxing into the sensation of him with a “You can move.” he started with slow, gentle thrusts, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The rhythm was languid, each movement measured and precise. Y/n’s breaths came in short, quiet gasps, her body trembling with each stroke.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, the occasional creak of the bed as they moved together. Every so often, she had to remind him to stay quiet, her whispers blending with his low grunts.

When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, she bit back a cry, his hand reaching to cover her mouth. She licked her fingers, his thrusts becoming more insistent with the scene.

“I can’t… I’m so close,” she panted, her voice muffled against his hand, her body arching against him.

“Just a little longer, love, I’m almost there.” He quickened his pace, each movement somehow reaching deeper.

Lewis’s body tensed, his toes curling as he felt her walls starting to flutter, and with a final, deep thrust, he came shortly after her, their bodies shaking with the intensity of it. She buried her face in the pillow, stifling her cries as Lewis held her tightly and lowly grunted into her neck.

For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, the room filled with the soft glow of morning light. Finally, Lewis pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, just below where he had left his mark, his arms still wrapped around her.

“Best celebration ever,” he whispered, a satisfied smile on his face. Y/n laughed softly, turning her head to kiss him. “Next time though, we’ll wait until I can have my way with you, no muffed moans”

She chuckled, nuzzling into his neck. “Deal.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months ago

Note

ok hear me out angel, what about reader asking sevika about Isha’s family? Like wondering if they shouldn’t find her family or anything.

Maybe Sevika could open up about her own past with her abusive father and confess that she relates to Isha because she was probably either an orphan or running away from a toxic environment?

idk if you share my vision but I loveee when Sevika is vulnerable.

🖤

god :,) i love this

men and minors dni

as a family, you've all been learning sign language to better communicate with isha.

the girl is young and restless, and she gets frustrated easily when her hands can't keep up with her thoughts. she would rather just use jinx's surprisingly good interpretation of her facial expressions to communicate.

so, none of you are experts yet, but isha is able to tell you all a little bit more about herself the more she learns.

she doesn't know how old she is, but in the mines she was grouped with kids aged 4-6. so she's close to there.

she doesn't have any parents, and she doesn't remember ever having parents.

and when she met jinx, she had made an escape from the mine camps she was raised in, being chased by goons wanting to bring her back. tiny hands are useful in mines. and isha was a for-lifer.

isha explains this all to you slowly, over time, mostly with jinx's encouragement. and living in the undercity, stories like isha's aren't as rare as they should be. so you're all a little numb to the true horror of isha's life before jinx.

it hits you all at different times.

jinx is the first person to shed tears for isha. you wake up in the middle of the night to horrified screams coming from the girls' room, and both you and sevika sprint in, fearing the worst.

it's just isha having a nightmare, but it's still heartwrenching to watch as she sobs and shakes and screams out in her sleep. jinx is the only one who could wake her up, her voice seeming to break through the horrors for poor isha. the girl snaps awake with a gasp, launching into jinx's arms with a relieved cry.

"w-what happened, kiddo?" jinx whispers, her voice shaky.

isha quickly, shakily signs something only jinx can see, and she bursts into tears, wrapping isha up in a hug.

"what was it? what'd she say?" sevika asks.

jinx shakes her head. "'canary went quiet.'" she says, shakily. "she dreamt about the mines suffocating her."

you shiver, and sevika sighs heavily. both of you crawl onto the floor, preparing for a long night of soothing the kids to sleep.

the next person who cries about it is you.

you stumble to the kitchen in the middle of the night in search of a glass of water and catch isha in the fridge, stuffing her face with leftovers from dinner.

"you wan' me to warm that up for you, kiddo?" you ask around a yawn.

isha jumps and stumbles to her feet, her eyes wide and fearful, the food splattering to the floor. sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-- she signs over and over.

you blink. "no-- what? don't worry about it baby, 's just some spilled rice--"

isha bursts into tears and starts tugging at her hair, worry consuming her, you gasp, darting forward and pulling her in for a hug. she flinches just a bit before she realizes you aren't going to hurt her, and your heart shatters.

"isha, baby, you can eat as much food as you want, whenever you want." you whisper into her blue hair. isha moans against you. "that's a rule here. you'll never be in trouble for taking food. even if it's jinx's 'secret' cookies." isha giggles a little at this, and you start to cry, burying your face against her scruffy head of freshly dyed blue hair.

you both cry until isha's stomach grumbles, and then you burst into giggles.

"c'mon. i'll make you your favorite if you help me." you say, standing from the floor and flicking a light on. isha gasps.

blueberry pancakes? she signs with a grin. when you nod, isha darts forward and hugs your legs. thank you ms. baby. she signs. it makes you start to cry again.

sevika's the last one to crack, but that doesn't surprise you.

what does surprise you is how open she is about it.

isha asks about family one evening over dinner. it's got you all a little emotional, the sweet questions she signs.

is this family? she asks first.

a few forks clatter onto plates, and it's silent. isha's inquisitive gold eyes dart around the table, waiting for one of you to speak. sevika looks at you you look at isha.

jinx speaks. "close enough, yeah." she says.

you grin, and bite your lip. sevika sighs.

is there more? isha asks.

all your smiles immediately fall as the solemn topic of more family, alive and dead, is brought up.

jinx sighs. "you know vi, my sister, the asshole cop." she mutters. isha giggles at the curse. "i... had parents. don't remember much of 'em. mostly, i remember the stories vi would tell me about 'em. felicia and connel. they died when i was young. then i had a few brothers and vander... and they died too..."

isha pouts and darts forward to hug away jinx's far away look.

sevika takes over while jinx starts stroking isha's hair.

"then she had silco. and me, i guess." she says with a shrug. jinx smiles a little.

"do you have any family in zaun, sev?" jinx asks.

you reach out and grab sevika's hand, and she kisses your knuckles before speaking slowly.

"i had a dad. we had a... shaky relationship." she says simply. jinx understands this, and she hums with a nods. isha's blinking at sevika with big eyes, listening intently. "he died hating me, i mean we were always feuding. but then sometimes, we weren't feuding, and..." she shakes her head and huffs. "and after that i kinda thought family was somethin' i just wasn't any good at." a few tears fall down her cheeks, and she looks up at the girls across the table.

but look at you, now, big mama. isha signs with a happy smile.

jinx bursts into laughter at the use of the nickname, and sevika bursts into tears.

you giggle and coo, pulling sevika into your arms to let her cry in your shoulder. "'s okay, big mama." you tease.

"s-shut up!" sevika cries. isha giggles, and sevika lifts her face to smile at the girl, tears streaming down her cheeks. "look at me now, kid. exactly."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone

#the canary went quiet thing is bc they'd take canaries into coal mines b/c the birds would die if there was too much co2 #and if they stopped singing-- basically they've died u gotta get the hell outta there #also i made myself cry writing this :( ;asldkjf;al #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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tacticaldiary · 1 year ago

Text

A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

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luveline · 2 years ago

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel can’t control himself when you get hurt in the field —a ficlet featuring an irritated (lovesick) miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested he re, fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. fighting, injury, blood

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel watches the screen in front of him unhappily.

"Spider-Girl," he says. Two people answer him. He sighs. "Y/N," he amends, "you're being reckless."

The little droid camera that follows you around circles your head as you swing from one place to another. "I'm being good," you deny.

Miguel would never tell you this, but he loves how you speak. Sure, almost every word you say annoys him, but the cadence of your voice is melodic and addictive at once. And Miguel knows you're nice to everyone, but it's him alone that has you speaking so softly.

You do it to torture him, he's sure.

"You're doing well, but you'd be better if you didn't free fall for so long. Mechanical failure can happen at any minute," Miguel says.

"Then one of the others will catch me."

"And if there's no team member close by? I'm supposed to come and scrape you off of the sidewalk?"

"Miguel," you say gently. He can tell what mood you're in today. "They have people for that."

"Could you just do as I asked you to?"

"Ah, but you haven't asked me anything."

"Please," he says, "focus on the task at hand, and use your webs cautiously."

You make a chirping sound that feels more laughter than affirmation, but you do as he requests, reducing the length of time between each web shot. You're in New York, Earth-1844, attempting to send home an unhappy Doc Ock variant whose mechanical arms are immensely technologically advanced, even when compared to Nueva York's futurism.

Miguel had sent you along with a rather large team, one. because a big team was necessary for the task, two. because you'd asked and he has trouble saying no to you, and three. because if you'd spent another hour in his office today he actually might have given into temptation, which wouldn't be good for anybody.

Miguel is used to doing what needs to be done rather than what he'd like, these days. So while he wants to indulge you and your fanciful suggestions —I'm not heavy, handsome, please, you won't even notice I'm in your lap, your thighs are so wide— he can't. He has things to do. Things that cannot endure distraction.

"Woo!" you cheer through laughter, letting your shoes skim the floor in an especially dangerous manoeuvre. The adrenaline turns you giddy. "Holy crap."

Oh, right, that's why he resists temptation —he hates you. (He doesn't hate you.) He hates you and your disregard for your own safety, he hates your rejection of his authority, and he hates the stupid sweet sound you make when you're excited.

"Do you listen to me and then forget what I've said, or do you not understand the English language?" he asks.

You land on a rooftop overlooking the centre of Future Doc Ock's destruction. "Well, I've been learning Spanish. We could always try that," you suggest.

"Why have you been learning Spanish?" he asks.

"Coquetear contigo," you say, your pronunciation all over the place. To flirt with you.

"Qué maravilla," he mutters.

"I don't know that one, handsome, so I'm going to assume it was a love confession or something similar." You sound so overly fond he has to tense his jaw. "Gwen, where are you?"

"I'm over here?"

Gwen is wrapped up tightly in a metal tentacle. It shakes her around fanatically. Miguel swears and zooms in on her location, watching in apprehension as she attempts to free herself while the arm creaks, tightening, tightening.

"Woah," you say, taking a running jump off of the rooftop. "Can you believe it? I'm not the first one who needs rescuing."

Hobie Brown reaches Gwen before you can, and he makes an impressive rescue. You divert your path, shooting a web at the glass dome covering Future Doc Ock's head. Miguel crosses his arms across his chest. Wannabe Mysterio loser, he thinks, and then, when you've smashed a hole into the dome with a generously momentous kick, Nice.

He doesn't suppose Doc Ock was expecting a kick to the jaw today.

You hiss as you propel yourself away from him, another web shot at a nearby lamppost. It does something funny to his chest when he hears you whine in pain, but he's too distracted to ask what's wrong —he scours your droid's view for an answer, finds it red and saturating the fabric of your suit.

"Why are you bleeding, Spider-Girl?" he asks, gaze drawn to the main screen where Dock Ock shouts belligerent threats at an approaching Spider-Man.

"No biggie," you say, hissing again, "I think I cut my leg on the glass. I need a better suit."

"Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," you say with a sniffle. From the amount of blood, the cut is deep. "Is it me, or is it dusty in here?"

It definitely hurts if it's making you cry, though maybe you're unprepared. This was a bad idea, you aren't as seasoned as the others, and he knows you don't know what you're doing yet. You need more time, more practice. You've hurt yourself in the field on your very first mission, and you don't have the pain threshold or the super-healing necessary to cope.

It's his fault for letting you go.

"Prepare for extraction," he says.

"No! No way, are you kidding? I'm fine, I– I can do this."

"Y/N," he warns.

You fling yourself from the lamppost with impressive grace considering your injury and join the fight once again. Miguel can't keep an eye on you like he wants to, as the alarm that indicates an anomaly begins to sound. He's forced to rush together a second team while the elite strike force are preoccupied, yanking members of Spider-Society from their goings abouts, Lyla in his ear recommending effective combinations and fighting styles. From that point on, he has to supervise two different missions, his head pounding with effort.

His hands itch. He should be out there. Miguel is the cream of the crop and he isn't shy to admit that. He's a good fighter, but he can't be everywhere at once, and most of the anomalies they face require multiple sets of hands to fix. So he forces himself to stay put and guide the teams through each fight, sick to his stomach with every bloody footprint you leave behind.

He's following Hobie Brown and offering rejected instruction when he sees you go down. He toggles your voice channel and catches the end of a high-pitched, "Oof," the air-knocked from your lungs forcibly as you hit the ground. The tentacle that propelled you veers up for a finishing blow, and three different webs catch it and pull it backward.

It's a blur. One minute Miguel's in the control room at Spider-Society headquarters, the next he's breathing in the smoggy air of New York, Earth-1844, concrete and asphalt torn up under his hands. Lyla speaks in his ear and he's deaf to her, his focus pointed with only one thing in mind.

The restraint it takes not to wipe Doc Ock from the face of the dimension is incalculable. Miguel can't quite believe his own moderation as he orchestrates the return of the anomaly, your body on the ground in the corner of his eye.

The second the situation is under control, he runs to you. His gloves hit the ground with a thud by your hip, as do his knees. Spider-Man, a Peter Parker from Earth-751263, has already set nanobots over your prone figure, tiny spider-like creatures that leave webbing bandages in their wake, closing the sluggish wound on your calf. But nanotech won't fix a broken spine, not in the field. Miguel needs a stretcher. He needs to get you home.

"Miguel," you say, drawing his gaze from your slow-rising chest, "I can't breathe.

He slides his thumb as gently as he can into the seam of your mask and eases it off. "You're winded."

You cough. The sound is disturbingly wet, but your lips remain unsullied. Miguel can't look at you in this much pain, and he won't: he stands, and he takes control.

—

You're not in nearly as much pain as you should be, because Doctor Spider-Man gave you the good stuff. "Your healing isn't nearly as expedited as most of us," he'd said.

"Is this medical discrimination?" you'd asked, faking a serious concern. "Do I need to talk to Spider-Lawyer?"

You found it funny. He maybe didn't, but he gave you an extra dose and told you to rest up before leaving. Resting at the Society medbay isn't easy because Spider People are constantly filtering in and out of the ward for check-ups, medication, and corrections.

It's also not easy because most Spider People are incredibly lonely in their home dimensions, and incredibly friendly here. When Miguel finally comes to visit you, you have a Spider-Girl from a few dimensions over who has the same biological mother as you but a different father sitting to your left —she's trippy and adorable, if you do say so yourself— two Peter Parkers to your right, and a melting pot of currency lost in the white linen sheets over your legs.

They get one good look at Miguel and put down their playing cards.

The Peter Parkers slink off together promising to come and see you again sometime, and your variant stops just shy of Miguel's position to look him up and down affectionately.

"Go away," he says.

She beams at him. "Okay."

"You can't help it, can you?" he asks after she's gone, picking a rogue playing card up from the end of your bed. He twiddles it between his index and middle finger, the card shushing with each turn.

You sit up in bed and try to straighten out the sheets, hoping to entice him. You don't bother answering his question. It barely sounded like one.

"I'm hurt, you know?" you ask.

"I know. I told you to retreat."

"No, I'm hurt it took you so long to visit me," you say. You're putting on airs. Truthfully, you genuinely are a little hurt, but your voice is soft and dreamy as always. "I thought we were friends."

"Ah, because you need more of those."

You sink down into your pillows, your knees hiked. "I really can't help it if people like me. And you'd know."

Miguel surprises you by sitting down. He faces away from you, his thigh just shy of your feet below the sheets, and it's only then you realise he's tense. He's in civvies for a change, a t-shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and chest and regular black sweatpants. He's wearing converse.

You look at him through a squint. "Did you hit your head, too?"

"I'm off-duty."

"I just never pictured you in sneakers."

"How do you picture me?" he asks, neck craned to look at you, his chin touching his shoulder. He has dark circles under his eyes and his brows are ruffled on one side.

You let your knees fall to one side and pull your legs to your chest, hoping to entice him closer. "You're not sleeping well?"

Miguel doesn't answer your inquiry. In fact, he falls silent. His eyes are on your hands where they're bunched at your chest, his dark flush of lashes twitching as his gaze tracks along the column of your throat, your jaw, and finally, your face.

"If you were anyone else," he says eventually, "you'd be benched."

"I'm not benched?" you ask.

"You disobeyed a direct order," he says, "and your actions affected the people around you. Someone else could've been hurt protecting you. You have to listen to what I'm telling you to do, or this is never going to work."

You look at the hospital bed railing rather than face his disappointment.

"But it's my fault."

"What?" you ask, startled.

"It's my fault you got hurt. I knew you couldn't handle it, and I let you go anyway. I'm… I'm weak."

"What are you talking about?" you ask. "Weak? You're the strongest person here, with or without Rapture."

He flinches at the drug's name.

You lay there, paralysed by your own mistake, your big mouth ruining everything for the thousandth time. If there's one thing you know about Miguel, it's that you never mention his weaknesses. His drug. His last attempt at a full life. You might be light-hearted, a free spirit, but you're far from stupid usually. Your emotional intelligence must've got lost somewhere on Earth-1844.

"Sorry," you murmur, looking at him from under your lashes. "I didn't mean…"

Slowly, so slowly, he puts his hand on your leg. It doesn't hurt, you've been medicated and stitched and his touch is far from cruel, but you're so startled that your breath gets caught in your throat. Miguel doesn't touch you unless he's giving you a vague reprimand, moving your hand from a button you shouldn't touch or a door you're not allowed to open.

"I let you go on that mission, knowing you weren't ready, because you asked me to let you. I put selfish motivations over your safety. It won't happen again."

You're not as brave as you think you are. You try to hold his hand but it looks so big, and you've never had him this close to you of his own accord. You're a moment away from nervous goosebumps.

He looks up at your touch, your pinky finger wrapped over his, smaller and shorter but with the same pattern of calluses, skin abraded by tight gloves and rough surfaces.

"Selfish motivations," you repeat in a murmur.

"I don't– like saying no. To you." He couldn't sound more unhappy to admit it.

"You say no to me all the time," you say. You don't mean to, but suddenly you're folding your fingers over his, forcing him to hold your hand. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't let go. "Like, ten times a day."

"It's difficult." Your complaint is a blessing for him —the atmosphere around you shifts to something less vulnerable, and his permanently chagrined personality rears its head once again. He raises his eyebrows. "You make my life extremely difficult," he says flatly.

"You make my life difficult, too," you say.

You can't help but give him your fondest smile, your lashes kissing in the corners of your eyes.

He visibly softens. His thumb rubs the back of your hand, just once.

"Fantastic," he says, looking firmly away from you. "Great."

"Isn't it?" you ask happily.

He squeezes your fingers gently. It's almost imperceptible. "Yeah, it is," he says.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! also, im sorry if you already speak spanish i realised after that that detail was subjective to the reader, sorry!

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chlorinecake · 3 months ago

Text

HURTS, DOESN'T IT? ✦ — 𝐉.𝐒𝐂 👾

▹ PAIRING: Boyfriend Sungchan x F. Reader

▹ SYNOPSIS: While at an arcade party to celebrate Halloween alongside your boyfriend and his friends, one random activity leads to another before you two find yourselves completely wasted and horny as fuck…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, halloween themes, impact play, spanking kink, face slapping, giggly (but also very emotionally unstable) protected sex, exhibionism (public bathroom), ft. other kpop idols, mentions & consumption of alcohol, jealousy, that's about it

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.7k — DAY 9

T WAS SOMETIME during the second week in October when your boyfriend Sungchan got a text from his old college buddy about wanting to get in touch at some party.

The occasion was a fashionably early Halloween celebration at a local arcade where there’d be tons of food, good conversation, and entertainment.

Needless to say, the location choice was odd at best, but throwing a house party would’ve been much more expensive anyway.

And of course, knowing that the party could be an unfriendly zone for anyone in a relationship, Sungchan decided to take you with him as a date, both to stay out of trouble and because he didn’t want to leave you home alone that night.

“Babe, look at this,” Sungchan offered as you sat on the couch together, scrolling through a few pins from his Halloween costume Pinterest board. “Which one catches your eye?”

“Hmmm, that one,” you chirped with a smile, pointing to the photo that seemed easiest to recreate...

So, Sungchan ended up dressed as a basketball player and you as his cheerleader girlfriend, and everyone at the party absolutely adored your costumes.

It came to a point where you recall somewhere around 8 people asking to take a photo of you two by the time y’all actually got there, but I digress...

Considering this was a grown-ups-only party, there wasn't any candy or tricks involved, but there was a lot of booze and raunchy shenanigans.

Additionally, the arcade was a space strictly for adults, so you didn't have to worry about any little kids wandering the place or making a disturbing fuss, either.

“Ohhh, look what the cat dragged in,” your boyfriend’s clearly drunk friend remarked upon seeing you, who was ironically dressed as a tipsy-looking Jack Sparrow.

“This is my lovely girlfriend, _____.” Sungchan smiled awkwardly now, “____, Seonghwa... It’s time you two finally meet each other.”

“Nice to meet you, Seonghwa,” you offered as confidently as you could, shaking his hand while saying, “Thanks for having me, by the way.”

“Ahh, don’t mention it... You two lovebugs have fun now though,” Seonghwa slurred, all before stumbling away into the distance.

That’s when you felt Sungchan’s hand slip around your waist, pulling you close to him before whispering, “Is it just me, or are we currently too sober to enjoy this party?”

“No, it’s both of us,” you agreed with a painfully honest nod, making your boyfriend chuckle a bit as you both promptly made your way over to the drinks bar.

But since you step foot in the arcade, you feel like there is a second pair of eyes watching you aside from Sungchan’s, and you could bet on your grave that it is the barista running the bar.

“Hey guys! What can I get for the sexy player and his ditsy fangirl today?” She started sarcastically while annoyingly chewing on a wad of gum with her dark red lips, might I add?

“We’re actually a couple,” Sungchan answered before you could even get a word out, and fortunately so because you certainly didn’t have anything good to say to her.

“We’ll take whatever specials you guys are having tonight,” you began to say while glancing at the drink menu, but she had already helped herself to chatting things up with your boyfriend.

Right.

In.

Front of you…

Just from glancing at her name tag, you knew the skank went by “Samantha G” to most people, which only irritated even more once Sungchan nicknamed her “Sam.”

“You have such a bright smile,” she said, reaching a hand out to touch his arm. “God, and you’re strong,” she chuckled slightly before humming as if someone had just stuck a vibrator in her ass.

“Miss G, don’t forget that you’re hired to serve, not to swoon,” an employee from the back called out to her, and it was easy to hold back the laugh in your throat once Sam replied with:

“Oh, give me a break, Eunseok... Besides, with the outfit I’m wearing, I could easily get away with doing both.”

Gag me with a fucking spoon, you thought to yourself, feeling relieved to see Sungchan peeling that vipers grip away from his arm by her wrist.

“Serving and swooning?” Eunseok repeated with a look of cringe on his face, “You must be mistaking this job with Hooters.”

But nonetheless, Samantha lifted her chin proudly, ignoring his words as if her behavior right now was something to be proud of.

Eventually though, Eunseok got started on making your drinks while Samantha pretended to look busy.

Not wanting to cause any further confusion, you simply ignored her frequent glances towards you two, letting Sungchan pay the bill before walking off to enjoy yourselves.

And as the night continued, you and Sungchan helped yourselves to some pizza next, shooting hoops for a few rounds at the basketball game before eventually delighting yourselves to a Pac-Man tournament.

You obviously lost more than half of the rounds y’all played together, but only because you really needed to stop by the bathroom after all those drinks.

Sungchan cut the game off, returning it back to its default home screen before taking your hand and walking you to the ladies bathroom.

“I’ll be out in a bit,” you told him as you lazily kissed the apple of his cheek before waltzing inside, and he rested his back on the outside of the door, planning to wait until you were finished.

Though, you were starting to take a lot longer than promised, causing Sungchan to grow a bit suspicious...

So, being the rule-breaker that he often was whenever he drank too much, he walked inside the women’s bathroom, knocking on the stall door to see if you were okay.

And surprisingly, you weren’t in there throwing up your entire digestive system, so that concluded you fine for the most part...

The only issue was that your pussy wouldn't stop throbbing and leaking arousal all into your underwear, and even after trying to calm yourself down a few times, nothing was working—

“Baby, just let me in before some chick sees me standing here and assumes I’m harassing you,” Sungchan pleaded despite the calmness of his voice, impatient hands finding the pockets on his track pants.

“Fine, but I’m only letting you in if you promise to help me,” you pouted as if he could see you, and he let himself giggle at the whiny tone of your voice right now.

“Help you with what? Wiping yourself?” Sungchan teased, but all of that stopped once you opened the door to pull him inside.

“No, asshole… I seriously need you right now,” you whined again, and he kissed you, cupping your face in one hand and supporting the small of your back with another.

“I only did that to shut you up, by the way,” Sungchan muttered upon breaking from the kiss, turning back to open the door and leave. “Now let’s go back...”

“Channie, please…” You tugged on his arm.

“I’m not staying here in a women’s bathroom stall with you, ____,” he whisper-scolded.

“But I want you to be in here,” you went on, clinging to his arm like a koala in distress...

Sungchan sighed, finally closing the door back so you could stop whining. “Okay, baby, what’s all this really about... hm?”

You stayed quiet, only reaching inside the cup of your bra to pull out a condom packed in shiny blue foil.

“Baby,” Sungchan breathed out with a soft smile, finally realizing the true motive for your sudden change in behavior: “Why’re you letting that barista girl get to you?”

“I dunno, why’re you bringing her up?” You retorted, closing your hand around the condom you held, but Sungchan found your hand anyway, opening it back up and taking the condom himself.

“Because you’re obviously still bothered about how she was acting with me,” he returned, undoing his track pants while keeping eye contact with you, “and that’s okay... Even I get jealous sometimes.”

“I wasn’t jealous of that skank,” you correct him.

“Then what were you, baby?… Tell me…”

“I was... upset,” you admitted through a gulp once he freed his cock from his pants, and he was surprisingly somewhat hard already just from talking to you, “There’s a difference, y’know?”

“Sure... but what upset you?”

“That... that you just let her touch you and... and talk to you as if I wasn’t standing right fucking there,” you said with a frustrated tone, feeling your skin shiver at the sudden sound of him tearing the foil packaging before sliding the rubber over his tip and down his shaft.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way, then." Sungchan apologized, and either being too drunk to notice or even care that he was being sarcastic, you closed the space between you two, looking him straight in the eye with your own lust-filled ones.

And before you knew it, he had your back against the wall, fucking his thickness into your sopping cunt as you clung to his shoulders, eyes shut with overwhelming pleasure.

Given the crammed space in the stall, it wasn't very easy to move around in there, let alone with two fully grown people. Though, at least one benefit was that the arcade restrooms weren’t like the cheesy ones with zero privacy...

The stalls were fully sealed all around, almost like a closet with a toilet in it, and judging from the thick wooden walls, they were pretty soundproof too for the most part.

His hands gripped at your ass as pretty little grunts fell from his lips, and all you could hear in the back of your mind was Samantha’s irritating voice.

“K-kiss me,” you breathed out suddenly, and Sungchan did just that, finding your lips in his own as you kissed him passionately, trembling at the sensation of his hands spreading your cheeks as he held you tighter.

That’s when you took his lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck,” he swore as quietly as he could, and you released his lip, only because you wanted to see the pained look on his face as he kept fucking you.

“Why the hell did you bite me so hard, ____?”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” You returned with a whisper, and he only hung his head, snickering to himself before looking back up to meet your eyes.

“You’re fucking crazy, y’know tha—ahhh...” His voice trailed off, but only because your walls kept clenching around him, your slick coating his entire pelvis now given how wet you were... though, your physical arousal didn't match your visible pleasure...

“Why're you holding your sounds in, huh?” Your boyfriend huffed, only to chuckle slightly at the docile look of sexual desperation overtaking your face now, “still trying to stay mad at me for no reason?”

“Even if I was, you're literally laughing at everything right now, so it'd be pointless,” you said with a surprisingly stable voice, only to tighten your jaw at how slow he was dragging his cock against your walls now, making you focus on every last inch of his length as he slid in and out of you, slow and steady...

“Stop that,” your voice came out strained, and you turned your face from him to hide how effected you truly were, but when his hands fiercely gripped at the sensitive flesh of your hips, you couldn't stop yourself from wincing.

“So bossy today,” he replied with a smirk, biting his own lip at the sight of your tough girl act crumbling before him.

“Go faster already, Sungchan,” you sighed with desperation, hating how he was delaying your release by going so slowly

“I'm sure Samantha wouldn't mind me fucking her at this speed,” he snickered, ghosting his hot breath right below your ear.

“The closest that bitch is ever getting to you again is in... in a dream,” you stammered out incoherently, but only because he was sucking on your neck now, surely leaving a mark as his hips finally picked up the pace.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” Sungchan mumbles through grunts in between kissing your flesh, making your eyes go in and out of focus the faster he pistoled his cock into you. “She’s probably waiting for me in the stall beside us... touching herself while she listens to us fuck... wishing it was her—”

Smack!

You slapped him clean across the face, cutting off his words with your bitter force, and you’re not sure if that’s what makes his eyes appear watery at first...

Though, maybe, it was the feeling of your snug walls sucking him back in that made him tear up a bit, and it didn’t help how you subconsciously rolled your hips against his, desperate for more friction.

“Feel better after doing that, angel?” Sungchan asked in a wobbly voice now, and you could tell he was getting close just from how pronounced his veins looked now, coupled with the additional saliva pooling in his mouth.

Before you could even answer, he was back to kissing you, and his skilled tongue, despite all the drama it had caused thus far, was making you feel so good right now...

The contact was so sloppy, and primal even, with his powerful hips pushing through their own stuttering as he chased his high, spanking the swell of your ass to get your attention.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I, baby?” He offered through his adorably labored breaths, still trying to get that reply out of you before y’all left the stall.

Smack.

His large hand hit your ass again, making you jump against the wall as the painful sting traveled throughout your entire body, part of it turning you on somewhat.

“Sungchan,” you panted, tracing the swollen part of his lower lip that you had bit earlier, and now you were starting to feel your eyes tear up, too, “I’m sorry, I... I don’t know what made me do that.”

“It’s okay, angel, we’re both drunk out of our minds right now,” his voice began with a weak giggle, just as his arms were starting to feel numb for holding you for so long.

Fusing your back with the wall, you were shocked to feel that Sungchan could possibly reach even deeper inside you, and it was only with a few more thrusts while coupled with the pleasured whimpers you finally let out for him that your boyfriend reached his climax.

“Fuck, baby... ahh... nghh... fuckkk,” a string of curse words spilled from your lips, but Sungchan covered your mouth almost instantly once he heard someone open the bathroom entry door.

“Mmm,” you hummed again, but he shushed you with a finger, hearing a stall open and close just a few feet away from you before their footsteps stopped.

And you couldn’t be more lucky that there was faint music playing from the speakers, provoking you and Sungchan to get back dressed as fast as y’all could while you still had a chance at doing so undetected.

Your feet hit the ground with a gentle thud once he released you from his grasp, and you both smiled at how ridiculous you both felt in this moment.

Slipping off his soiled condom, he discarded it down the toilet, pinning you against the wall to find your lips in yet another harsh kiss as he hummed softly, “We’re never going to a party like this again, right?”

“Agreed,” you said back, readjusting your cheer skirt and panties as your boyfriend slid his pants up, ruffling his hair a few times before finally opening the stall door to leave...

Both of your emotions were always like a rollercoaster whenever you got drunk. One second you were both a bunch of moody lug nuts, and then the next, you two were practically inseparable...

With your arm hooked in Sungchan’s, you rested your head on his stature as he led you out of the bathroom stall, and you weren’t all that surprised to spot Samantha there, wide-eyed and confused as you and him casually walked out together.

“Did you guys... Why were you both?... Wait…" Samantha’s voice trailed off as she tried her hardest to get a coherent sentence out but failed nonetheless once Sungchan and you started giggling to each other before walking out the restroom.

And you’re certain the stall you two had just left reeked of body warmth and sex, but being too drunk to spare a care, you both waved everyone off before heading home, only to flat out crash on your shared mattress and sleep the night away while still wearing your costumes...

⋆♱✮ Thanks to everyone who made it to the end of DAY 9's fic entry for my Kinktober Event !! This is a bit shitty tbh, but nonetheless, if you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links :3

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

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klausysworld · 5 months ago

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Very closed off reader who kinda clings to Klaus because they relate to him in the fact that he has family troubles :( she sees that he clearley does the things he does because of trauma or whatever and so does everything in her power to show him that he's got someone to fall back on.

Every time he shouts at her or retaleates because he's upset and dosent understand how soemone could be so nice to him she simply gives him a hug or a gift or just sits some distance away to show he isn't alone.

She deals with all his meanness quite well because she's used to it from her family and has learned to block it out :( one day he really has enough of her and after something goes wrong with Elena or Salvatore he really doesn't want reader around him. She tells him quite confidently that he needs soemone to help him and she would never leave him alone at which point he smirks and says something snarky before proving that he doesn't need her. He reaches into her chest and grips her heart and kinda realises he is in the wrong when she looks kinda shocked and sad so he gently takes his hand out and feeds her his blood to help with the damage he left behind. Afterwards reader is less affectionate with him and only sits with him when he is in a state, now afraid to touch him incase he lashes out but still wanting to support him cuz she cares about him :(

Thanks for reading, love your stories!

The Betrayed Becomes The Betrayer.

Growing up on an aggressive household desensitised me to a lot of things; yelling and smashing objects especially. My parents were a mess, I'm not sure if they didn't know how to love or just didn't want to.

Eventually I realised that they were the same thing and that I wasn't wanted at home, so I left and found Hayley.

Which was how I wound up finding Klaus.

He was a broken man, I could tell. Elijah confirmed that their parents had been cruel and abusive almost as soon as we met him which I assumed they also must've become desensitised over it after a thousand years.

However when I actually met Klaus, it was obvious that he was still deeply affected by it. I could understand him, his feelings and his thoughts. I got why he wanted to be so strategic, to have the control that was taken form him. I knew why he wanted to make people hurt the way he hurt and why he was as aggressive as the the people that raised him.

I wasn't violent, or an angry person. I had learnt to be quiet and keep things to myself so that I didn't get in the way but I would think about it. How it would feel to hurt someone, to make them feel worthless and then leave them. Could it really feel good enough to do over and over?

In my head I assumed it must do but I could never bring myself to actually torment someone the way I had been.

But I could tell that Klaus was still haunted by the past and it affected his every move. I couldn't blame him, or fault him for acting upon the images that swirled in my own mind.

Often he got frustrated, angry and inevitably lash out against someone. Something would be thrown, smashed. Someone would be yelling, screaming.

But I never wanted to be mad at him, to me he didn't deserve to be ranted at for what he'd done. They were riling him up further and it was obvious, it was like they wanted him to explode and hurt someone.

So instead of pushing him off that edge, I tried to help him back up.

To begin with I would just be the only one in the room not glaring at him with hatred. I just wanted him to know that there was someone on his side. He didn't notice for a little while but after a couple arguments I think he started to feel my presence. Sometimes he would get snappy, ask what I was looking at but when I'd just tell him that I understood why he did what he did, Klaus would get less defensive.

I wasn't a touchy person, ever, but the time his mother had been back and she hurt him so bad that he cried in his room, I didn't know what else to do but hug him.

After that it seemed like I was hugging him all the time. He calmed so much easier with some touch.

Sometimes he accepted it without complaint but sometimes he didn't want anyone near him so I would go away and come back later. He knew I was there when he needed me and I learnt to be a patient person.

I also learnt not to react so when he screamed in my face I didn't yell back. He had been so stressed lately and a lot of people had died yesterday the day before. I left him alone for the night before coming back in the morning to try and be there, he didn't want to talk so I went away and came back in the afternoon. To begin with he was fine but he got angry so fast, I barely said anything before he was yelling.

I tried not to react, not to talk back or get defensive but then he pushed me. Both hands on my shoulders, shoving me backward toward the wall and I tensed and something stirred in me.

I told him he was being ridiculous, pathetic and he didn't know what he needed.

"What? You think I need you? You think I like your desperate little cuddles. I'm not the one craving touch and love. I've been fine for centuries and I don't need a clingy little thing following me around." He snapped at me and I felt my frown deepen and the hurt biting at me.

"I'm not being clingy...I'm just trying to be helpful." I whispered and he scoffed.

Klaus got close, too close and it frightened me a little. I took a few steps back and he chuckled, trapping me to the wall.

"What is it, love? No more snuggles? You don't want to tell me it's okay? You gonna tell me I should paint a picture?" He mocked, his breath hot on my face. "You think I'm pathetic sweetheart? Think I need you? All I need is for you to disappear." His voice was low but clear, eyes cold and I felt the adrenaline hit and screaming for me to run but I froze just like I used to when I was little.

The smallest sound left me when I felt something agonising within my chest. My mouth opened but no noise would come out and I struggled to breath at all. I looked down, watching my own blood seep through my clothes and drip down his wrist. My eyes were stinging and I could feel my heart close to exploding as his grip tightened. I wasn't sure if I was stood there for hours or seconds before my body reacted and my arms shot up, both my hands latching onto his wrist so he couldn't pull the organ out.

My eyes shot up to look into his, seeing them soften after a second before his hand let go around my heart. A loud cry left me when he tore his fist out of my chest, leaving a gaping hole. I panted and a strong metallic taste filled my mouth as blood dripped past my lips.

His voice sounded blurry when he tried to tell me something, nothing felt real as my legs went weak and his hands touched my sides. The touch made me cry again and I felt him hesitate before something gross was pressed to my mouth and I couldn't tell if I was choking on my blood or his.

After a moment I could feel my body healing from the inside out, physically I felt better but now my mind was spinning. I looked up at him again, I could feel the fear pulsing through my veins when he reached his hand toward me.

This time I didn't freeze.

I was up and out of the room as fast as my legs could move.

I avoided him for a few days, part of me knew he wasn't going to do anything again and that he felt bad about it but the other part of me couldn't help but worry.

It was only when he was attacked again that I willingly sat in the same room as him.

"You okay?" I asked and he looked over to me, he was splattered with blood but at least it wasn’t mine.

"Yeah...I'm okay." He whispered, nodding.

I shifted in my place and he shuffled over on the couch so I could sit on the other end to him. The silence was awkward for a while, actually the entire time.

It was for quite a lot of the times I was near him. I wanted to be there for him, show him I understood but I was still scared and I didn't want to be close enough that he could kill me or hurt me just incase he did.

It was when he was carried in my Elijah, Papa Tunde’s blade in his chest causing him to be immobile and in agonising pain, when I got close again.

Elijah dropped him to the bed with a soft thud and was moving fast. He turned, looking right at me before talking.

“I need you to feed him your blood. It’s laced with vervain, he’ll heal slow. You need to keep him here or he is going to kill Rebekah. I don’t want to burden you, Y/N, but I’m afraid you’re the only who’s even a possibility.” He directed quickly, whilst dragging the blade from his brother’s chest.

“A possibility for what?” I asked, confused and afraid. I didn’t want to give him my blood. It was like asking him to kill me.

“You’re the only person he might listen to.” He explained as he headed for the door. “He won’t hurt you.” He told me and it sounded like a promise before he left.

Klaus let out a groan and I turned, hesitantly walking over to the edge of his bed. I silently dammed myself for being concerned enough to follow Elijah when he carried him in here.

I looked down at him, wincing at the cut that hadn’t healed down the length of his bare chest.

“What…what happened?” I whispered, wanting to reach out to touch but willing myself not to.

“Elijah-“ Klaus grunted, his teeth grinding as he forced words out. “He stabbed me for her.” It was clear that rage was all he felt in that moment as he tried to push himself up, only to let out a cry of pain.

“Rebekah?” I wondered and he seethed.

“She betrayed me. Called Mikael. She wanted me dead!” He yelled, his aggression growing as I felt my hairs stand on edge.

I was quiet, watching him struggle desperately.

I understand why he was so mad, betrayal was a huge thing for him. Abandonment, paranoia. It made him this way and Rebekah used it and ruined all of their lives but I had no doubt she had her reasons…not that I’d tell him that.

“She doesn’t now” I whispered and his had snapped to me. “She loved you now, she’s here now-“

“Only months ago did she stand beside Marcellus and watch as his vampires tried to kill me. She has always wanted me gone. She’s so desperate for Marcel that she’d kill her own brother-“ he snapped and I flinched.

His voice died off when I stepped back and he grunted softly. He was taking fast but deep breaths, trying to gather some stability and I could feel Elijah’s words echoing through me. That I had to let Klaus feed from me.

Reluctantly I shifted closer again, he was quiet as I sat down on the edge of his bed. His body was laid so close to me and his chest moved with each pain-filled breath.

My entire arm shook as I held it out, right infront of his face and it made his skin dance with veins. “Love…” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he inhaled through his nose. “I’m not going to hurt you” he uttered, I could feel his eyes on my but I couldn’t look back at his. “Not again. Just…there’s blood bags downstairs”

“Elijah said I have to use mine, the vervain makes it slower or something? I don’t know…I can’t do it wrong” I pushed my wrist closer, glancing at the fangs that were pushing past his gums.

“He won’t be mad.”

“He’s trusting me.” I whispered, finally looking up to klaus’s eyes and he sighed before slowly nodding.

I almost tugged my arm back when I felt his teeth pierce the skin, the sting making me move but his hand lifted to keep me in place. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he fed, it was such a strange sensation; much less painful than a needle.

As I felt myself weaken, I noticed the wound across his body fixing itself. My eyes started to go and for a second I faltered, my head beginning to drop but his other hand caught my chin and held me up. His fangs retreated back up and something warm and wet slid across my wrist before I was leaned up against him.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He whispered into my ear. “I have to finish what they’ve started.” He told me and I knew he wanted to murder Rebekah and I wanted to talk to him but he’d taken so much blood. His eyes stared straight into mine, reaching into my mind. “You’re going to fall asleep, you’ll wake tomorrow morning and you will feel no pain from this bite. I will heal you when I return. I promise I didn’t take enough to kill you, just to empty you of vervain.”

I wanted to argue, yell or anything but my mind shut down and my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I sunk into myself completely and lay, somehow conscious and unconscious as I tried to wake myself up.

I woke the next morning like he instructed my body to do, I glanced at my wrist to find it wrapped in bandages. My head lifted to see a glass of water, tinted pink by what I assumed was blood beside a small teddybear.

Hesitantly I sipped the drink, feeling instantly better before picking up the toy.

“I thought you’d like it” a voice sounded from the doorway, I glanced to see Klaus. Both his hands were behind his back and a guilty look painted his face.

I pushed myself up, it felt strange being in someone else’s bed; especially Klaus’s.

I didn’t answer him as I got up and pushed past him, shoving the teddy into his chest and going straight to my own room.

For a man who hated betrayal, he sure knew how to commit it.

He knew I was already afraid of him, that I didn’t want to be that close again and he took advantage of the ounce of trust I still had.

I understood him, but I couldn’t do this again. I’d been in this situation too many times.

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merrysithmas · 4 months ago

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Charles' line "There's so much more to you than you know" has always struck me because it's SO easy for Charles to come off unlikeable-

"There's so much more to you than you know" (But I do)

"What do you know about me? - Everything." (Whether you like it or not)

"I know what this means to you but you have to let go!" (Stop this nonsense)

"There's a mutant here already! [Exposing Hank]"

"I don't want your pain. They sent back the wrong man [To Logan]"

"I've seen what Shaw did to you"

"I feel your agony [After Nina died]"

"[Jean expresses no one knows how it feels to be tormented telepathically] Oh but I do."

Like on a base level what he communicates is such an invasion of privacy and instantly gets the hackles up because it's not natural. He can sound, at first glance, self-important and even dismissive (Erik at one point calls him 'arrogant'). Charles' telepathy gift is so alienating. He knows people's most personal thoughts, feelings, dreams, and nightmares. Seeing into someone's soul is as simple as breathing and second nature to him -- and he knows how repulsive this must be (see: how profusely he apologized for outting Hank. This speaks to a past/youth where he clearly unintentionally shared the secrets of others or caused trouble with his abilities and disturbed the people around him or endangered himself/others).

But Charles can't help his powers in the same way that Rogue can't - actually, Charles' abilities could easily been seen in some regards as the psychic equivalent to Rogue's physical gift. She can't touch ANYONE without hurting them in some manner, she is dangerous in some regard. And it's the same thing with Charles -- wherever his mind goes he exposes and hurts people. It's a side effect of his powers.

But unlike Rogue, Charles can't wear gloves. He can try to keep up psychic shields (which hurt HIM), or he can promise Raven he'll never read her mind, but he can't ever lessen his gift. He can't be perfect but he has to try. He can't or he'll be hated, despised, and feared. Rogue and he share a similar distress. Rogue suffers from touch-starvation but has to deal or she'll be seen as a monster. Charles suffers from the same kind of thing is a psychic way - he has to block his abilities or be seen as arrogant, invasive, and holier-than-thou. He has to starve his mind and powers.

So that's why it's sooooo touching that he tries SO hard to do good with it despite all that. Especially as he grows as a person and sees how powerful he can be with appendages like Cerebro. He ALWAYS makes an effort to clarify his knowledge of someone's mind with encouragement, love, understanding, and hope.

He can't help reading someone's mind but he CAN help how they react to it or how they feel about what's been exposed and the constant effort he exerts to express empathy, kindness, and aid is a testament to how hard he works to do good with his mutation. He frankly just doesn't have to do that. He could be like Emma Frost or Jean Grey or Psylocke. They know your thoughts, they use telepathy, and it's as simple as that.

Charles feels people's pain so ardently, sees their struggles so clearly, that it literally torments him not to help. How can he see that and just walk away? Innermost pain and secrets are revealed to him by nature -- he could ignore it, exploit it, or use it maliciously. Instead he takes the information and tries to help (surely in part to make up for how sensitive the invasion is).

"There's so much more to you than you know" (But one day you'll be more powerful than me. Don't get lost, keep going, you have so much more to remember and you aren't just made up of this pain that is so so heavy for you. This is not all that you are, I've seen what you forgot, I promise it's still there. You're still a person. Hold on).

"What do you know about me? - Everything" (I have seen your whole mind - the good and the bad - and still I came out here to ask you to stay. Because nothing in there scares me and in fact it gives me hope. I need you. We could do something great together.)

"I know what this means to you but you have to let go!" (They'll succeed in killing you if you let them. You deserve better)

"There's a mutant already here!" (Thank god! And you're incredible!)

"I don't want your pain. They sent back the wrong man." (Proceeds to cry at Logan's life and is amazed at his strength, you poor poor man. Is inspired to keep going from Logan's strength).

"I've seen what Shaw did to you." (Shaw did it to you. It's not a shameful secret and you aren't Frankenstein's Monster. It won't stop me from seeing who you really are. You're free).

"I feel your agony." (Come back to us. I can help you. You're not alone. You never had to leave. You still have a family. Grieve with us.)

"Oh but I do" (I survived. So will you. I didn't have help and I also had parents who didn't love me. I won't let that happen to you or leave you alone. I promise. You can sleep. You're safe. I'll protect you.)

#charles xavier #cherik #he def grows as a person and telepth too as time goes on he learns how to better communicate his empathy

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fluff-lover · 1 month ago

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Healing Touch | Chapter 2: Broken Hearts

Logan Howlet x fem!Reader

Story summary: You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. You’re not a fighter at all, but you’re useful at the battle field when it comes to saving injured mutants.

The one thing you can’t heal? It’s a broken heart. Sadly, that’s exactly what Logan needs: in love with a woman who doesn't love him back, and only having pieces of a broken past, Logan needs all the help he can get. He’s too stubborn to ask, but you make it your mission to be there for him.

Masterlist

Being in love with someone who is in love with someone else is hard enough, but living in the same house? That's straight up masochism.

Jean made it clear, she would never leave Scott, and Logan knew better than to try and get between them. He loved her too much to cause her trouble anyway. He wanted her to be happy. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch them carry on a happy, healthy relationship. To wake up every morning to an empty bed, knowing the woman he loved was just a few doors away, in the arms of another man… it was too much sometimes, his only comfort being at the end of a bottle.

He knew that if he wanted to move on from Jean, he needed to leave the mansion. There was no way he would stop loving her if he kept seeing her everyday. But on the other hand he couldn’t leave, not now that he finally felt like home, not when he felt he owed his life to Charles and his cause. There were other people in his life he cared about. His Rouge, Hank, Ororo… you…

Leaving wasn’t an option.

You knew exactly what he was going through, because you felt the same way about him.

Falling in love with Logan was easy. He was handsome, strong, brave, he was kind to you and protective of the students. He kept training you to fight and was always ready to lend a hand whenever you needed something.

Some nights when he couldn’t fall asleep you would stay with him and you would watch tv or walk around the garden, maybe even go out for a drink. Most of the time you would sit on a bench in the garden and just enjoy the evening sky.

At the beginning he was very quiet and getting him to open up to you took time, but eventually you reached a point where you could stay up all night talking about anything and everything, as long as it wasn’t too personal. Soon you two formed a beautiful friendship. You wanted more, but Ororo warned you about his infatuation with Jean.

You didn’t know what hurt the most: watching him in love with someone else, or watching him get his heart broken.

If he gave you a chance you would love him unconditionally. That is if he even let himself be loved. He was so firmly convinced he didn’t deserve love, you doubted he would fully open up to someone. Even if Jean were to leave Scott for him, would Logan stay? Would he accept her love? Jean said it herself: the good guy sticks around.

Logan didn’t know how to love, or how to BE loved. Simple things like wrapping your arm around his as you walked together, or giving him a little gift felt like defusing a bomb. He didn’t know what to do with himself, he didn’t know how to act when he received any form of affection. It put him on edge.

One time he mentioned he lost his lighter, so you went out and got him a new one. It was such a silly little thing, yet it threw him off completely. He stared at the lighter that rested on his big palm as if it was a foreigner object. All while you watched him awkwardly.

“You don’t like it?” You asked nervously.

“I do.” He mumbled before clearing his throat. “Thanks.” Then he put it in his pocket and walked away, leaving you standing there confused.

Logan didn’t talk to you for three days after that. Not because he was mad at you, he just couldn’t remember the last time someone gifted him something and he didn’t know what to do. You were convinced he hated it, but you were far from right: you had no idea how much he actually appreciated it, loved it even. Every night when Logan stepped outside to a balcony to smoke a cigar, he would run his thumb across the engraving and think of you. The hopeful look in your eyes etched in his memory. You were such a sweet thing, he didn’t know why you bother spending time with him, let alone buy him a present.

You let him have his space, and by the fourth day he came by your room to ask you if you wanted a ride for your next trip to the hospital. The way your face lit up made Logan promise himself he would do better for you, that he would be a better friend because you deserved it.

And then shit hit the fan.

It was a Saturday night and most teachers were hanging out in the common area, talking and sharing snacks. You and Logan were sitting next to each other having a couple of beers and sharing a bowl of nachos, when Jean and Scott walked in, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“How was date night?” Ororo asked with a cheeky smile. Jean smiled widely and showed her hand, a beautiful ring resting on her finger.

“We’re engaged!” She announced while Scott smiled proudly. The room erupted in cheers.

“Congratulations!” “About time!” “You finally popped the question, Summers!” “You guys are so cute together!” There was no doubt Jean and Scott were the “IT” couple in the mansion. Everyone took turns to congratulate and hug the couple, yourself included. You were happy for them, you knew they loved each other very much and wished them a long, happy life together. But you also dreaded how this announcement would affect Logan.

Just as you predicted, he was hurt by it, and while everyone celebrated the couple, you saw him get up and leave the room in a hurry.

You shared a concerned look with Hank and Ororo. You knew what they were thinking: if anyone could comfort him, it was you.

When you walked out the room Logan was nowhere to be seen. The first place you checked was his room, but he either wasn’t there, or he was refusing to open the door. After pondering for a moment, you decided to check outside.

Logan sat on a bench. Your bench. The one you two would sit together whenever he had a nightmare, when he wanted a smoke, or simply be with you.

When you found him, he had his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, and your heart broke for him. You approached him quietly, but his voice made you stop.

“Go away.” He grumbled.

You sighed and stood there for a moment, debating whether you should leave or push your luck a little bit more.

“It’s a free country.” You finally said before sitting down next to him. Logan groaned and straightened on the bench. He knew he wasn’t getting rid of you: you were an annoyingly good friend.

Neither of you said anything for a moment. What could you possibly say? Instead you threw a leg over the bench, so you were fully facing him, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Pulling him gently towards you, you pressed his side against your chest. Logan instantly leaned on you and rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Logan.” You whispered, your cheek pressed against the back of his head. “I know what it feels like to be in love with someone who loves someone else.” You said, leaving out the part where he was the one causing you this pain.

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this. For the first time ever he didn’t fight it. His strong front cracked and he let himself melt against you, too tired and weary to keep fighting his feelings.

“Tell me what I can do to help.” You whispered and felt Logan shake his head against your shoulder.

“This. Just this.” He replied in a low, gravelly voice.

You sat there like this for a while in complete silence, forgotten to the rest of the world, the moon being your only witness. Your hand rubbed soothing circles on Logan’s back, and if it wasn’t because you were so worried about him you would’ve tried to soak in the feeling of him in your arms.

“You know… The one thing I wish I could heal the most is the one thing my powers can’t heal.” You pulled back and Logan straightened again, this time looking back at you.

“What’s that?” He asked.

You placed your hand on his cheek lovingly and smiled sadly.

“A broken heart.” You whispered.

Logan closed his eyes and sighed. He knew that if there was any way you could take his pain away, you would do it. You were so selfless, always wanting to help people around you.

“You really are an angel, aren’t you? Is there any time of the day you’re not ridiculously kind?” He joked.

“I see you still have your sense of humor, that’s good.” You joked back. “You gonna be okay?”

Logan nodded his head.

“I’ll live.” He answered. “Could use a drink, tho.”

“Alright, let’s go!” You said before getting up from the bench and offering him your hand.

“Where are we going?” He asked, confused.

“To get you a drink and get me some ice cream.” You replied with a wide smile.

Logan chuckled and shook his head.

“Let’s go get you that ice cream then, Angel.” He said as he took your hand and stood up.

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