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orphicdreamers-wp · 11 months ago

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It’s Not Christmas Without You— Quinn Hughes

Summary: Your seasonal depression gets the best of your relationship leading to an awkward Christmas

Content Warnings: Seasonal depression, panic & anxiety attacks, use of antidepressants, ocd, chemical imbalance, angsty hughes brothers

Pairing; Ex Gf! Reader x Quinn Hughes

September

You had never quite understood why your brain felt so hardwired to the point you couldn’t comprehend anything happening around you. It affected everything you did, but no one could put their finger on why sometimes things got to be much for you it brought you to tears. For the most part, your boyfriend Quinn tried to help you but when the weather in Vancouver shifted just as he’d been named captain. He just couldn’t do it anymore, he tried but it was draining him.

You sat cross legged in the center of Quinn’s living room, reorganizing his CD collection for the third time this week. Quinn sighed as he entered his apartment, coming home from a rough roadie, all he wanted was to take a scorching shower and talk to you while you guys laid in his bed watching a cheesy movie. He didn’t utter a word as he walked past to his room and dropped his stuff off before returning to his living room and letting out a sigh, “The CDS haven’t magically moved since Tuesday dollface.”

You ignored your boyfriend, again. Quinn blew out a breath he’d been holding in for god knows how long, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He expected you to protest against him trying to break up with him, but you didn’t. Which somehow made Quinn more upset at the entire ordeal, “So your fine with just throwing away the last 6 years?” You kept quiet, knowing that if you dared to speak you would say something that you and Quinn couldn’t come back from. So you stayed silent as you stood up and slipped on your shoes and grabbed your coat and walked out of Quinn’s apartment and his life.

You returned to your shared loft with your friend Tess and finally let your composure fall. A wretched sob ripped through your chest as you leaned against the door and slid to sit against the wall. Tess hurried out of her bedroom and was at your side in seconds, “Oh honey. It’s okay.” You felt like someone was wrapping barbed wire around your throat, “I can’t, I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. Something isn’t right Tess.” Your breathing began to quicken as your chest tightened. Tess rubbed your back reassuringly, “I got you.” You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. Once you were calm you turned to Tess, “Quinn and I broke up. I think I need to go home and get help.” And that was exactly what you did.

You went back to Toronto and moved back into your childhood bedroom, went to a neurologist and found out that your brain had an insufficient amount of neurotransmitters which could play part in your moods. The doctor told you that you needed to boost your serotonin and dopamine levels and prescribed you antidepressants and referred you to a women’s mental health clinic. You noticed slowly that your mood became less negative and you were able to focus better. But you also noticed that you began to get thinner and no matter what you did it never seemed like you gained weight.

December

You were reluctant to go to the Hughes Christmas dinner, although Ellen had reassured you that you were more than welcome. You still had your bad days and didn’t know if being around Quinn would make you snap and you didn’t want to snap at him. So you told your mother you’d think about it but that she should go. Which she did. You mother and Ellen were in grossed in a conversation over linens when Luke finally mentioned you, “So I guess she really doesn’t have anything to say to you Quinn. She would never miss out on Dad’s meatballs.” Quinn shot his brother a glare as your mother spoke softly, “She’s just having a hard time right now, her meds are messing with her.” Ellen smiled solemnly, “How is she adjusting to her antidepressants?”

Quinn looked taken aback learning your on antidepressants now, “Is she okay?” Your mom smiled as she lifted her wine glass to her lips, “Her doctor told her she doesn’t have sufficient neurotransmitters and it’s a chemical imbalance in her brain that’s made her feel like this all these years. The doctor said there’s a good chance coupled with the harsh weather and seasonal depression that’s what made her feel so poorly. Nothing you could have done would have helped Quinn.” Jack rolled his eyes subtly, “So because she’s mentally not okay, we’re supposed to be fine with her destroying Quinn?” Ellen glared at her middle child, “Jack! If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say sit.”

You stared at the stack of wrapped gifts you had gotten for each member of the Hughes family. You sighed as you slid off the couch and pulled on a dark red sweater and some jeans and took the gifts to your car and made your way to the Hughes family home. You were unsure of what would happen when you walked in but you were facing your fears today. You rang the doorbell, not expecting Quinn to be on the other side of the door.

His eyes held an unreadable expression that you had grown to miss. You were almost positive that you had lost your voice when he spoke, “Hey.” You smiled, “Hi, you look uh great.” Quinn rubbed his neck as a deep blush rolled over his cheeks, “Thanks. You do too.” He took some of the gifts as you I walked inside the house and placed your gifts with the rest of the gifts under the tree. You slipped your coat off and hung it in the closet with the others. Quinn frowned ever so slightly when he took note of how the jeans that had once hugged your body in all the right places were loose on you and how you looked at him like you might break if you looked at him long enough.

Ellen’s voice rang out from the dining room, “Who was it honey?” You smiled warmly as you entered the dining room behind Quinn, “Hi.” Ellen’s eyes glimmered with excitement as she hopped up and pulled you into a bone crushing hug, “We’re so glad you could make it after all. Right guys?” The Hughes men muttered out agreements. You sat down at the only empty seat which, as the universe was punishing you, was directly across from Jack with Quinn sitting beside you. Conversation flowed between you and everyone besides Jack and Quinn.

Jack spoke up in condescending tone, “So Y/N what have you been up to since you and Quinn broke up?” Jack let out a groan as Quinn swiftly kicked him underneath the table. You felt your smile drop, “I moved back home like 3 days after. I’ve been getting a lot of help. Working on understanding my feelings.” Jack hummed, “Seeing anyone? You sure are slimming down.” You tensed as you drew in a deep breath, “Nope. Wouldn’t be fair to a poor guy. I’m still in love with someone and I’m not sure relationships are for me. But can we just talk about your game against the Red Wings? I mean I was on my seat the entire time.”

Jack’s smirk fell, “You still watch my games?” You shrugged, “I watched Trev kick your ass. I also watched Quinn hand the Sharks the biggest loss. I didn’t stop watching hockey because I got broken up with.” You melted into Quinn’s touch as he placed a hand on your thigh. He mouthed inaudibly, ‘Thank you’ Dinner ended and Ellen insisted on going straight to presents. You smiled warmly as Jack and Luke opened their gifts from you. You You played more into a joke with Jack. It was a shirt that read ‘Straight Outta The Penalty Box.’ Jack’s gift sent his brother’s into laughter while Jack sent you a playful eye roll, “Now I know she actually watches my games still.” Luke’s gift seemed to be more fitting for him, he opened the box and ran his fingers over the soft tie that was adorned with red hockey sticks, “Thank you.” You smiled as Quinn picked up his gift from you, “I didn’t know what to get you so with my luck you’ll probably hate it.”

Quinn opened the box and his eyes softened as he looked at the gift, “You remembered. Why would I hate this?” He pulled out the large cooling weighted blanket. You barely remembered him mentioning wanting one. Apparently your subconscious remembered. Quinn’s eyes softened as you began to tidy up the wrapping paper as everyone continued to open gifts.

Without being noticed Quinn slipped into his childhood bedroom and opened his bag and pulled out a small gift wrapped box. He slipped it into his pocket and returned to the living room. His eyes immediately were on you as you clasped a necklace around his mother’s neck. Soon enough all the gifts were opened and Quinn spoke warmly, “I actually have a gift for you Y/N.” Your eyes widened, “O-okay.” Quinn slipped the small box from his pocket and placed it in your hand. By the size alone you knew it was jewelry of some sort.

You opened the box and your eyes widened and swelled with tears, “You can’t. Not with how horrible I was to you.” Quinn shook his head, “No I can. I have loved you since I have known you. I don’t care if your going through the worst thing possible. I love you and I just wanna be there for you no matter what. For the rest of my life. I want to be your husband. Marry me.” Your eyes welled, “I don’t know if I can give you the life you want Quinn.” Quinn shook his head as he pulled you closer to him, which you didn’t think was humanly possible, “The life I want is waking up to you pressing your ice cold feet to my legs to warm them up, the life I want is holding your purse so you can stop and pet every stray cat you see. The life I want is anytime and everything as long as you are there. You are the one good thing in my life.” You sniffled, “Fine I’ll marry you.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #qh43 #jack Hughes #luke hughes

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imaginaryf1shots · 3 months ago

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Unreplacable | Fernando Alonso

WC: 3.9K

Fernando x exGF!reader

Summery: "I love you." "You'll move on."

Warning: drinking? idk

A part of my 1K Celebrations

Masterlist

Fernando Masterlist

The rain tapped harshly against the windows, the weather matching the atmosphere in the dimly lit living room. The room that held so many memories in it, a part of your home. Or the place that was once your home, after today it’ll be longer your home, evident by the suitcases by the front door. You stood by the window your back to Fernando as you struggled to keep your tears in, you had to keep your composure. The decision you took seems heavier than ever now.

This decision was a long time coming, your relationship with Fernando has been suffering for a while now. Your once bubbly and happy relationship has been filled with nothing but fights and lonely nights lately, and it’s something you can’t take any more. You and Fernando talked about it many times before, and no matter what he said or what you said the both of you wouldn’t change. You both didn’t want to compromise and it was killing your relationship faster than you both could comprehend.

Fernando, whose face is a mix of frustration and heartbreak, paced the room with a restless energy. He came from a race weekend to see your bags ready to go, his house void of all the touches you added over the years, everything that is yours is gone, just like you’re about to be. His footsteps were the only sound besides the rain breaking the silence. Before he finally stopped and turned to face you. Your back is still to him.

“So this is final?” Fernando asks you, you sigh and turn to look at him, he’s standing on the other side of the room, his eyes searching for some sign of the love that had once filled this space, that had once filled you both.

“Yes, it’s for the best.” You say and avert your eyes, telling yourself; yes this is the best choice you both have. If you wait any longer and kind of respect or love you hold for each other will disintegrate and grow as hatred and resentment.

“I love you.” He said, his voice trembling slightly. The words hung in the air, fragile and heavy, like the rain outside. You took a deep breath trying to keep your composure, to keep your voice steady despite the turmoil inside, placing your hand on the window behind you trying to anchor yourself, seeking stability to face the emotional storm that’s in front of you.

“You’ll move on. We both will, love isn’t enough anymore.” You replied, the finality of your words echoing through the room.

Fernando’s gaze fell to the floor, his shoulders sagging with the weight of your decision. He knew deep down that this was the end, and that it’s the right choice but it didn't make it any less hard. The love that had once seemed so unbreakable now felt like a distant memory, slipping through his fingers like the rainwater tracing paths down the window.

In that moment the reality of the separation hits you both, leaving behind an empty, aching silence. The warmth of the past was gone, and the future seemed uncertain and bleak.

5 months later

You never thought you’d get into a relationship with another driver, granted he’s retired now, but an F1 driver nonetheless. He was just at the right place and at the right time with the right information. Jensen asked you out at a moment where you just wanted to move on, and you thought to yourself why the heck not.

And you’re so glad that you did.

You haven’t felt like this in so long, you’re very giddy. The relationship with Jensen felt like a breath of fresh air. After the painful breakup with Fernando, you were drowning in memories, suffocated by the weight of what you lost. Jensen was like a lifeline, someone who offered you a chance to escape the relentless ache that had taken root in your heart.

His smile was a welcome distraction, his attention a balm to your bruised emotions. There was a certain lightness in your interactions, a simplicity that felt like a relief after the intensity of what you had shared with Fernando. With him, there were no complicated histories or lingering doubts, just the easy banter and the comfort of being wanted.

You threw herself into the relationship, hoping that if you just kept moving forward, you wouldn’t have to look back. There was a spark of excitement, the rush of new beginnings, and for a while, it was enough. You convinced yourself that this could work, that this new connection could heal your heartache.

Was there a bit of doubt that crept in in the darkness of your bedroom when you’re alone? Yes. And you couldn’t shake it no matter what. It was like a small voice inside of you kept saying that this wasn’t real, that you were simply running from the pain rather than truly healing from it. You haven’t given yourself time for yourself and for you to not love Fernando anymore. But you ignored it all, burying the unease beneath layers of forced smiles and laughter.

You wanted to believe that this new relationship could fill the void Fernando had left behind. But deep down, even in the beginning, you knew you were fooling yourself. Jensen was kind, attentive, and everything you should want in a partner, but your heart was still tied to someone else. And no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise, the shadow of Fernando lingered, a constant reminder of what you had lost and what you were trying so hard to forget.

The sun broke through the clouds as if determined to erase the gloom of the previous days. You sat across from him, Jensen who had effortlessly swept into your life. His smile was charming, his laughter infectious, and for a while, he was everything you needed to forget.

The restaurant was bright and bustling. Plates of food were served, drinks were poured, and the noise of the surrounding conversations created a comfortable distance from the heavy silence that had settled in your heart. Jensen reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing against yours.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, his voice warm and inviting. You forced a smile, pulling your hand back to lift your glass of wine.

“Just enjoying the moment,” You lied, taking a sip to avoid his searching gaze.

He didn’t press further, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh. “This place is great. I’m glad we came here.”

You nodded, your eyes drifting to the window. Outside, people passed by, oblivious to the turmoil within you. The world was moving on, and you were supposed to as well. But every time you tried to lose yourself in this new relationship, Fernando’s shadow loomed large, casting doubt over every smile, every touch.

A few days later, you and Jensen strolled through a serene park, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the path. The sound of children playing and birds chirping filled the air, but it all felt distant to you.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asked, squeezing your hand as you walked side by side. “It’s been a while since I’ve had time to just relax like this.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “It is nice.” You agreed, though your mind was elsewhere. The last time you had visited a park, it had been with Fernando. You remembered how he had laughed when a dog had run up to him, trying to steal the sandwich from his hand. You had both ended up sitting on the grass, sharing what was left of your lunch, and talking about everything and nothing.

“Hey, are you listening?” Jensen’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something.” You replied, feeling a pang of guilt.

“You’re always so deep in thought.” He chuckled softly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing important.” You lied again, forcing yourself to focus on him. He was here, now, and he deserved your attention. He led you to a bench under a large oak tree, where you both sat down. The air was filled with the scent of freshly cut grass, and the gentle breeze ruffled your hair. He turned to you, his expression softening.

“I really like spending time with you, you know.” Jensen said, his voice sincere. “I feel happy and light whenever we’re together.”

“I like spending time with you too.” You wanted to respond with something equally heartfelt, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you nodded, offering another smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. But as you said it, the words felt hollow, like an echo in an empty room. You looked away, your eyes catching on a couple nearby, sitting close together, lost in their own world. You envied them, envied the ease with which they seemed to connect. It was the same ease you had once shared with Fernando.

That evening, the two of you found yourselves at a trendy rooftop bar, the city skyline glittering in the distance. The atmosphere was lively, with groups of friends laughing and couples huddled together, sharing intimate conversations. Jensen seemed to thrive in this environment, effortlessly engaging with the bartender and the other patrons around you.

“You’ve got to try this cocktail.” He said, handing you a glass filled with a vibrant pink liquid. “It’s their signature drink here.”

You took the glass, your fingers brushing against his as you did. He was trying so hard to make this work, to make you happy, and you couldn’t fault him for that. But as you took a sip, the sweetness of the drink felt cloying, a poor substitute for the bitter truth you were beginning to accept.

“You like it?” He asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.

“It’s good.” You replied, though the flavour barely registered. Your thoughts were miles away, replaying the last time you and Fernando had gone out for drinks. You remembered how he had teased you for ordering the same thing every time, his playful smirk making you blush.

“Are you okay?” Jensen’s voice brought you back once more, concern etched in his features.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... a lot on my mind.” You set the glass down on the bar, taking a deep breath.

He nodded, but the light in his eyes dimmed slightly, as if he knew there was something you weren’t telling him. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

You appreciated his offer, and you felt guilty for not giving him the same attention he’s giving you, but the words felt like a foreign language in your mouth. “I know. Thank you.”

As the night wore on, the conversation became more stilted, the laughter forced. You both tried to keep the evening light, but your unresolved emotions were impossible to ignore. By the time you left the bar, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

The following week, you attended a charity gala together, one of those events that required formal attire and polite conversation. You wore a dress that you’d bought specifically for the occasion, hoping it would make you feel different, more like the person you were trying to become.

Jensen was at your side, looking sharp in his suit, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back as you mingled with the other guests. He introduced you to colleagues and sponsors, making sure you were never left out of the conversation. He was attentive, charming, everything a date should be.

But as the evening progressed, you found it harder and harder to keep up the pretence. The small talk felt draining, the laughter around you too loud, too hollow. You excused yourself at one point, retreating to the restroom for a moment of solitude.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to recognize the person staring back at you. The makeup, the dress, the carefully crafted smile, it was all just a mask, hiding the turmoil beneath. You took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in your chest, and wondered how long you could keep pretending.

When you returned to the gala, Jensen was waiting for you near the dance floor. He smiled when he saw you, holding out his hand. “Dance with me?”

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. He led you onto the dance floor, where other couples were swaying to the slow, romantic music. He pulled you close, his arm around your waist, and you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you tried to lose yourself in the moment.

But as you moved together, the music a soft hum in your ears, all you could think about was how different this felt. With Fernando, dancing had always been spontaneous, filled with laughter and playful teasing. It had been about more than just the steps, it had been about the connection, the unspoken understanding between you.

The song ended, and you pulled back, offering him a small smile.

“I need some air.” You said softly, stepping away before he could respond.

You made your way outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The city stretched out before you, the lights twinkling like distant stars. You leaned against the railing, taking in the view, but your mind was elsewhere.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down to see a message from Jensen.

‘Where’d you go? Miss you already.’

The words, once endearing, now felt like a weight pulling you down. You sighed, slipping your phone back into your clutch without responding.

It wasn’t fair to him, you realised. He deserves someone who could give him their whole heart, not just the pieces left behind. But you weren’t ready to confront that truth yet, so you plastered on a smile and returned to the party, determined to keep up the facade for a little while longer.

Fernando is pulled by his friends to the club, they insisted he had to go out and forget about you. And there has been rumours that you're already dating, some saying you're with Jenson. He tried to not think about it and he hoped it was all false. Walking into the VIP section, he's pulled to the bar straight away, they all order their drinks. Fernando didn't really want to get drunk, so when his drink came he just sipped on it. Looking at the dance floor, his eyes taking in the dancing bodies, swaying, twerking and grinding. His eyes fall on a familiar head of hair, squinting in the lowlights of the club, the person turns and there's no mistake it's you. His breath catches in his throat, he blinks a few times. The smile on your face is undeniable, your body is moving to the beat of the music. You step to the side just a bit and Fernando's blood turns cold, there he is. The rumours are true after all. Jenson's hands move to your hips pulling you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck loosely as you move.

Fernando drowns the rest of his drink before he turns and order's another one, his friends cheer him on. Fernando refuses to dance, but he keeps his eyes on you. No matter how hard he tried to ignore you and ignore how close you and Jenson are. You go to the table you share with Jenson, who then heads to the other side of the bar, across from where he's standing, ordering drinks for the both of you before he heads back to the table. Fernando could tell that the drink is not something you usually like to drink.

He turns to his friends but when he next glances in your direction he sees you sipping your drink. He smiles to himself, he knows you better than anyone, better than he knows himself even. Time goes by, with Fernando keeping an eye on you, the only time you escape his eye is when he heads to the bathroom. The music is dull in the bathroom relieving his headache, and giving him a moment to think. Fernando stares at himself in the mirror, he's confused, he's hurt. How can you move on so fast? How can you be happy, when he's still hurting?

Splashing water on his face he takes a long breath and leaves the bathroom, wanting to end the night, he'll say his goodbyes and leave the club. While he's heading out of the bathroom, a body hits him. He stumbles back a few steps, his arms go out to steady the other person, he takes a breath and freezes, he knows this smell. He looks down and your eyes meet his. Yours go wide, clearly you haven't noticed him at all though the night, while he had his eyes on you the whole time.

"N-nando?" You mutter confused, he could tell you're a bit drunk.

"Hi." His heart skips a beat at his nickname coming out of your lips so easily. His arms are still around you, and neither one of you tries to move. You've sprayed the perfume Fernando got you on your first anniversary and you've been rebuying since then.

"Hey." You breathe out, your eyes not straying away from him. You hear someone rounding the corner, you both take a step back from each other, Fernando's arms fall by his sides. They're itching to fall back on your waist. Where they made themselves home for so long. "How are you?"

"I'm alright." Fernando says and he takes all of you in, you're as beautiful as ever. "How about you?"

“I'm okay”

“Good, that's good.” He says and you stand in silence for a moment.

“I-uh- I need to go to the bathroom.” You say pointing to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. yeah, of course. Fernando wanted to say so many things but it seemed like he couldn't get his mouth to move, for any sound to come out. "Bye.”

"Bye." Once more Fernando watched you walk away and once more he couldn't stop you.

Fernando leaves the club. When you get back to Jensen you ask him to go, he agrees immediately, he picked up on your change of mode.

Two days later

Jensen is at your house, you called him telling him you needed to talk. He had a feeling what the talk was about, he's not stupid.

"Hi." Jensen says leaning in for a quick hug, before you both make your way to the living room. The mood is sombre, you both sit down on the sofa facing each other. Your emotions have been conflicted and knotted up for so long, and no matter what you did to untangle them or pick them apart you couldn't. You couldn't move on, you couldn't stop loving Fernando, you couldn't keep him out of your thoughts. Day and night you thought of him, he's consuming your life. It's like an addiction, you're addicted to him and being with him is what quilled that addiction, now that he's far away, your need for him intensified.

Your relationship with Jenson has been nothing but a distraction, you know it's unfair to Jensen, you've known for a long time. The selfish part of you made you stay even though you knew you couldn't give him what he wanted, what he deserved.

Looking at the man you've been fooling for months, you felt claustrophobic, like the walls around you were closing in. Your emotions were bubbling, it was harder to breathe. Jensen places his hand on top of yours and you meet his eyes. Jensen gave you the kindest smile, making the guilt chew you up.

"It's okay, I know." He says softly, your eyes well with tears and your lips wobble. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You manage to say getting choked up. Jensen scotches closer to you and pulls you in for a hug. Here you are breaking up with him, and he's the one comforting you. "I thought I'd get over him."

"I know." Jensen knows you're not a bad person, and when he asked you out, you were hesitant but he insisted. He thought you'd get over Fernando, guess, you were both wrong. "I thought so too."

"You've been super nice to me, and I've been nothing but an asshole, oh god, I can't believe how much you've endured because of me, I'm so sorry Jensen truly, I didn't mean to." You ramble pulling away from Jensen so you could face him.

"I know you didn't mean to, I know you y/n, I know who you are, and how you're like, believe me, I do." Jensen said, patting your hand. "It just wasn't meant to be.

"I'm s-"

"If you say sorry, one more time, I'm not going to forgive you." Jensen cuts you off and you give him a tear, sad smile. Jensen gets up and heads to the door, he opens it, but before he steps out he stops and turns to look at you. "Do me a favour?"

"Of course."

"Talk to him." You don't have to ask to know who he's talking about. You nod and give him a smile, before he closes the door and he's out of your life.

You don't deserve him, he isn't mean for you. Whoever he ends up with will be a lucky woman.

It's the weekend, and you find yourself at a pub you and Fernando always went to together, it's small and discreet. Not once have you been recognized. It was a place you both went to when you wanted to drink out of your house. Walking into the familiar place, nostalgia hits you, the familiar scent and the dim warm lighting you know very well.

Walking up to the bar, your eyes go to the booth you usually shared with Fernando, your backs to the door and the pub, it's empty. You tear your eyes from it and to the bar where you want to spend the night. On a stool, sits the back of a man you know so well. You both came here, it may be a coincidence, but like in the club you like to think it's fate, it's a sign. You take the chair next to him, and wave the bartender over.

Fernando frowns, there's so many empty chairs, why did it have to be the one next to him that's taken. He doesn't bother to look up from his half empty cup. When your voice reaches his ears to the familiar order of your favourite drink, he thinks he's hallucinating. He only had one drink and he didn't even finish his glass. Fernando takes a deep breath and he smells the familiar perfume. It's you. With your drink placed in front of you, and your arms on the bar top, Fernando hesitates. He second guesses himself before he places his hand on yours, you turn your hand and lace your fingers together. The relief is evident in his eyes, you both look at each other, a tearful smile on your face, as Fernando releases a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry." You mumble, Fernando shakes his head no. He stands up and turns your chair so he's standing between your legs, His hand cups the back of your head while the other goes to your waist.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles in your hair, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I should've tried harder."

"I also should've tried harder, we both need to work on us." You tell him and he agrees with you. "God. Fernando, I can't live without you."

"I can't live without you too, amor."

Maintaglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn .

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nameless-ken · 2 months ago

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Between Us and the Dark - Billy Hargrove x Reader

Part One

I've had lots of different thoughts lately and needed to get this one out there. I think it might be a short series!

Please comment & reblog <3

Word count: 4.5k

The usual heat of the California sun beats down on you, but it doesn’t faze you. You’ve grown used to it, the warmth on your skin almost a comfort as you walk down the familiar path to your dad’s auto shop. The smell of oil and gasoline greets you before you even reach the door, a sharp, earthy scent that’s become part of your life. You can hear the hum of engines in the shop bay, the rhythmic clanging of tools striking metal in a symphony that’s as routine as breathing.

You smile as you approach the door, holding it open for an older couple leaving the shop. They thank you warmly, their smiles lighting up their tired faces. You return the gesture, gripping the paper bag in your hand tighter to make sure it doesn’t slip. It’s become a habit, one you can’t quite let go of.

Inside, the shop is a blend of grease-stained work uniforms, car manuals, and the ever-present scent of motor oil. Your eyes immediately fall on your dad behind the front counter, scribbling something in his worn leather notebook. The same notebook he’s kept for as long as you can remember. His brow furrows in concentration, but the moment he sees you, his face brightens.

“There’s my favorite daughter!” he calls out, a grin stretching across his weathered face.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in his voice never fails to lift your spirits. “I’m your only daughter, but thanks for the honor,” you say, stepping closer to the counter and passing him the brown paper bag. “Here’s lunch.”

“You know,” he starts, opening the bag and peeking inside, “I keep telling you, you don’t have to bring me lunch every day.”

“I know, but Mom always did, so I thought I’d keep up the tradition.” Your smile wavers just a little, sadness seeping into your voice. It’s a subtle shift, but your dad notices.

“She’d be proud of you,” he says softly, his hand resting on your shoulder. The weight of his touch is reassuring, familiar. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, the noisy shop around you seems to fall away.

“Same to you,” you say, patting his hand as you both take a beat, a quiet tribute to the one who should still be here.

After a pause, you clear your throat and offer, “I was thinking maybe we could order pizza tonight and watch Ghostbusters, you know, like we used to.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Y/N, you’re twenty-one. You should be out with friends, raging, bar hopping, staying out until three in the morning, not sitting here with an old man like me.”

You follow him as he walks towards his office, leaning against the doorframe as he sits at his cluttered desk. “Maybe I don’t want to do all that stuff. I like our weekly dinners and movie nights.”

He takes a bite of the sandwich you brought him and looks up at you with a mix of affection and concern. “I understand, sweetheart, but you can’t hide away from life forever. Trust me, you’ll regret it. And… she wouldn’t want this for you.”

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. Your mom had always been the one pushing you towards your dreams, always talking about what your future could be. She’d been so excited to help you look at colleges, to plan for what came next. But then, in a blink, everything changed. A normal day, a routine drive to bring your dad lunch, and she was gone. A collision. A wreckage you still couldn’t fully comprehend.

Your dad never says it directly, but you know he hates that you keep bringing him lunch, just like she used to. It’s a shadow you both live under, even if you don’t talk about it often.

Before you can respond, the sound of a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Hey, boss. We got an issue with the engine on the Mustang, and I’m not sure what’s up with it.”

You turn, slightly startled, and your breath catches in your throat. Standing a few feet away is possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. His curly, sandy-blonde hair falls messily over his forehead, his strong jaw covered in a light scruff. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built, with grease smudged across his muscular arms and the collar of his work shirt. His striking blue eyes flicker toward you for the briefest moment before he looks back at your dad.

Suddenly, the air feels a little thicker, and the usual warmth of the shop becomes stifling.

“I’ll check it out after lunch,” your dad responds casually, glancing between you and the man. “Oh, Y/N, this is our new hire, Billy. Billy, this is my daughter—Y/N.”

For a moment, Billy’s eyes meet yours, and something unreadable flickers behind them. He’s stoic, almost detached, but there’s something intense about the way he looks at you, even if it’s just for a split second. He gives a quick nod, muttering a brief, “Nice to meet you,” before turning back to the shop floor.

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly shake it off, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, too,” you manage, though your voice feels oddly small.

As Billy disappears back into the garage, the clanging of tools picks up again, but you’re still stuck in that moment, staring at the spot where he just stood.

Your dad chuckles, noticing the slight flush on your cheeks. “Be careful with that one,” he says. “He’s got a lot going on.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” you reply, more to yourself than to him, already feeling your curiosity about Billy stirring, though you can’t quite place why. There’s something about him that pulls at you—a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

And you’ve never been one to shy away from curiosity.

You glance at your dad’s office phone, your thoughts drifting to his words. You’ve never been much of a drinker or partier, but maybe, just this once, stepping out of your comfort zone wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Your fingers hover over the phone, a moment of hesitation gripping you before you pick it up and dial.

After a few rings, your best friend answers. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?”

You take a deep breath, feeling a spark of excitement mix with nerves. “Call the girls. We’re going out tonight.”

You hang up the phone with a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy thrumming in your chest. Tonight will be different. As you move toward the door to leave the auto shop, your hand on the doorknob, you pause when you overhear two workers talking in hushed voices just outside the office.

“I’m telling you, no one really knows why he moved here,” one of them says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“From Indiana, right? Hawkins, I think it was called,” the other one responds, sounding skeptical. “Strange though… he showed up out of nowhere, didn’t talk much about it.”

“Yeah, kinda makes you wonder what he’s running from.”

You frown, straining to hear more, but the workers move further away, their voices fading. Indiana? Hawkins? The mention of Billy catches your attention, and suddenly, his quiet demeanor and distant gaze feel more than just personality quirks. It feels like he’s hiding something. Questions swirl in your mind, and you can’t shake the unease that settles over you.

Just as you’re about to leave, you catch sight of Billy through the garage’s wide door. He’s standing by a vintage Camaro, focused intently on the engine in front of him. For a moment, you watch him, captivated by how effortlessly he works—his hands moving with practiced precision as he tightens a bolt.

There’s something mesmerizing about the way he moves, but it’s more than just his skill that keeps you watching. It’s the way his shoulders tense, the slight furrow in his brow. Even when he’s alone, he seems guarded, as if he’s carrying something heavy inside. You can’t help but wonder what it is.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoes from the other side of the garage—a dropped tool, maybe. Billy flinches, his body jerking in a way that’s too sharp, too instinctive for someone just surprised by a noise. For a split second, his face changes. His usually controlled expression slips, revealing something raw and haunted beneath the surface. His eyes dart around the shop as though expecting some unseen threat. Then, just as quickly, the mask is back, his jaw tightening as he returns to the car, his focus seemingly restored.

But you saw it.

Your heart races a little faster as you stand frozen in place, wondering what could have shaken him like that. It wasn’t the reaction of someone merely startled—it was the reaction of someone who’s been through something. Something bad.

You swallow hard, the overheard whispers of his past mixing with the image of that brief, vulnerable moment. There’s more to Billy than the quiet mechanic who keeps his distance. Much more. And suddenly, you’re not sure whether you’re intrigued or unsettled by it.

Before you can think too much, Billy’s eyes flicker up and meet yours. For a moment, you think he might have caught you staring. His gaze is unreadable, but there’s a tension in the air that makes you shift uncomfortably.

You quickly turn, pulling the door open, your pulse still racing as you step into the afternoon sun. The warmth that once felt comforting now seems stifling, and as you walk away, the questions linger in your mind, heavier than before.

Who is Billy really? And what exactly is he hiding?

The bar is alive with energy the moment you walk in. Dim lighting casts a warm glow over the crowded space, with low-hanging bulbs swaying slightly as the door swings shut behind you and your friends. A jukebox in the corner hums out classic rock—The Eagles, maybe Fleetwood Mac—songs everyone can sing along to after a few too many drinks. The scent of spilled beer and fried food lingers in the air, blending with the constant murmur of conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter from groups huddled around tables.

Your friends lead the way, weaving through the crowd with the confidence of locals who’ve been here more times than they can count. They head toward a high-top table near the back, just close enough to the bar to keep the drinks flowing, but far enough from the dance floor to avoid the inevitable chaos of drunken swaying. You slide into your seat, the polished wood cool against your hands as you try to settle into the night’s atmosphere.

But something feels off. The noise, the clinking glasses, the shouts for another round—it all seems distant, like you’re watching it from behind a thick pane of glass. You force a smile, laughing at one of your friend’s jokes, but your mind keeps wandering back to earlier that day.

Billy.

You hadn’t been able to shake the image of him—his tense posture, the way he flinched when that loud noise echoed through the auto shop. And the whispering... The workers had been vague, but the mention of Indiana and Hawkins kept circling in your thoughts. What was Billy running from? Why did he seem so… haunted?

“You alright, Y/N?” one of your friends asks, her voice cutting through your haze. You blink, realizing you’ve been staring down at your drink, fingers tracing the rim of the glass absently.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.” You force another smile, trying to push the day’s thoughts aside.

“Sure, that’s why you’ve been spacing out all night,” your best friend teases with a knowing grin. “Bet I can guess what—or who—you’re thinking about.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the flush creeping up your neck. “It’s nothing, really. Just… something weird happened at the shop today.”

“Oh no, here we go.” Another friend leans in dramatically, her eyes twinkling. “Spill it.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s nothing big. I just… overheard some of the guys talking about Billy.”

“Billy?” your best friend raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “The hot new guy who works for your dad?”

You nod, glancing around the table, feeling their eyes on you. "Yeah, they said something about him moving here from Indiana, but no one really knows why he left. And then, today, he kind of… flinched when something loud dropped in the garage. It was like he was spooked, you know? Like something was really bothering him."

There’s a pause before your friends burst out laughing, not in a mean way, but in that teasing tone they always use when they think you’re overthinking things.

“Oh come on, Y/N. You’re making it sound like he’s hiding from the mafia or something,” one of them chuckles, taking a sip of her drink.

“Or maybe he’s just shy,” your best friend adds, winking. “He is ridiculously good-looking. Who wouldn’t flinch under that kind of attention?”

You can’t help but laugh along, but inside, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t quite shake. It’s not just the attraction that’s eating at you—it’s something deeper.

“You know what?” your best friend interrupts your thoughts again, leaning in conspiratorially. “You need to relax. Let Billy be mysterious and brooding. Tonight, we’re here to have fun. No more deep thoughts—just drinks and dancing. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, though your mind is still partly elsewhere. You’re trying to shake off the tension as the waitress brings another round, and your friends dive headfirst into lighthearted banter. But as you glance around the bar, your heart skips when you spot a familiar figure sitting alone in the far corner.

Billy.

He’s at a small table by himself, his broad shoulders hunched over a glass of whiskey, one hand resting lightly on the rim as he stares into the amber liquid. He looks as out of place as you feel—detached from the noise and energy surrounding him, lost in his own thoughts. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, making him appear even more guarded, more unreachable.

“Earth to Y/N,” your best friend sings, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Are you seriously zoning out again?”

You blink, tearing your gaze away from Billy, but not before your friends follow your line of sight.

“Oh my God,” one of them gasps. “Is that Billy?”

Your heart races, and you nod, feeling exposed under their playful stares.

“Looks like fate,” your best friend says with a mischievous grin. “This is your moment, girl. Go talk to him.”

“What? No. No way,” you protest, shaking your head quickly. “I can’t just walk over there.”

“Why not?” she teases, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like he’s going to bite. Besides, you’ve been thinking about him all night, right? Now’s your chance.”

You glance over at Billy again, and your pulse quickens. Part of you wants to approach him, to figure out what it is about him that’s pulling you in, but the other part of you is nervous. What if you’re reading too much into this? What if he shuts you down?

“Come on, Y/N,” another friend chimes in. “We dare you. Break the ice.”

You look at your friends, all of them grinning, eager to see how this plays out. The teasing pushes you, but underneath their laughter is a genuine push for you to step out of your comfort zone, to live a little like your dad suggested.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you down the rest of your drink, take a deep breath, and slide out of the booth. “Alright, I’ll do it,” you mutter, heart pounding as you take the first step toward Billy.

Your friends cheer behind you as you weave through the crowd, each step feeling heavier than the last as you approach his table. And then, you’re standing in front of him. He looks up, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours. For a brief moment, there’s a flicker of something in his gaze—recognition, maybe even curiosity—but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. His expression remains guarded, a wall firmly in place between the two of you. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t dismiss you either. He just watches you, as if silently weighing whether to let you in or push you away.

The tension between you stretches like a rubber band pulled tight, and for a second, you consider turning around, making up some excuse to leave. But then you remember the way he flinched at the auto shop, that vulnerable moment when no one else was watching. Something inside you pushes forward, refusing to be intimidated.

“Hi Billy,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though you can feel the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Mind if I sit?”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flicker over you, then back down to his drink. For a second, you think he’s going to say no, but then he shifts in his seat, gesturing subtly to the empty chair across from him. You take it as a sign and slide into the seat, your heart pounding.

You clear your throat, feeling the weight of his silence pressing in on you. “I’m Y/N,” you say, even though you know he already knows your name. It feels strange, but you say it anyway, hoping it’ll break the ice. “We’ve, uh, kind of met already, I guess. At the shop.”

Billy nods slightly, barely acknowledging the obvious. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “I remember.”

Another stretch of silence settles between you, awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. There’s something about his presence that’s heavy, but it doesn’t repel you—it draws you in. You grip the edge of the table.

“So,” you start, leaning in just a little, trying to sound more casual than you feel, “my friends dared me to come talk to you.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of surprise breaking through his guarded expression. “Dared you?” There’s a slight edge of humor in his voice, though it’s barely noticeable.

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, grateful for any response. “I guess they think you’re a bit of a mystery.”

His gaze sharpens for a split second before he looks away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. The humor fades as quickly as it appeared, and you suddenly feel like you’ve touched on something sensitive.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you add quickly, trying to recover from the awkwardness. “I just thought I’d come over, you know, because… you don’t exactly look like you’re having the time of your life over here.”

Billy’s lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough to give you hope that you haven’t completely blown it. He shifts in his seat again, his eyes flicking back to yours for a brief moment. “Bars aren’t really my thing,” he admits, his voice low, barely above a murmur.

You nod, feeling a little more at ease now that he’s actually engaging. “Yeah, I get that. I’m not much of a drinker either.” You glance around the room, the lively noise of the bar in sharp contrast to the quiet bubble that seems to surround your conversation. “But, hey, sometimes it’s good to just… get out, you know?”

Billy gives a noncommittal shrug, his eyes distant again, as if he’s only half here. You can’t shake the feeling that something is weighing on him, something heavy, and you want to ask more, but you don’t want to push too hard too soon. Instead, you decide to keep things light, hoping it’ll coax him out of whatever shell he’s hiding in.

“So, are you always this mysterious, or do you save that for work?” you tease lightly, offering him a small smile.

For the first time, Billy’s gaze softens just a little, his expression almost amused. “Do you think I’m mysterious?”

“Well,” you say, leaning back in your chair, “you haven’t exactly been the chattiest guy since you started working for my dad. Not that I’m judging or anything—it’s just…” You hesitate, then add, “I guess I’m curious. I mean, you kind of keep to yourself.”

Billy looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out your angle. Then, finally, he lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “There’s not much to tell,” he says, though you can tell by his tone that there’s more beneath the surface.

“I don’t know,” you reply softly, your curiosity growing. “Sometimes the quiet ones have the most interesting stories.”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink, his eyes still distant. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more contemplative. “Maybe,” he says, barely audible above the noise of the bar. “But not all stories are meant to be told.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of what to say. There’s a heaviness to his statement, a sense of pain or regret that he’s not ready to share. You can feel it in the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers tighten around his glass. He’s closed off again, retreating behind his walls.

“Everyone’s got their stuff, right?”

Billy doesn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of something crosses his face—acknowledgment, maybe even understanding. Billy’s eyes remain fixed on his drink for a moment longer, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass, as if he’s contemplating something. Finally, he glances up, locking eyes with you again. There’s a brief pause, and you wonder if maybe he’s going to say something more, maybe open up just a little.

But instead, he shifts in his seat, straightening up slightly. “If this isn’t your type of place, why’d you come out?” he observes, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

You laugh softly, shrugging. “According to everyone, I’m supposed to be having more fun in life.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, looking around at the chaos of the bar before his gaze settles back on you. “And this is your idea of fun?”

“Well,” you smile, glancing back toward your friends, who are huddled together in a corner booth, laughing and sipping their drinks. “My friends mean well. I guess they just want me to let loose, stop overthinking everything.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s watching you closely, trying to read between the lines.

“What are you overthinking?” he asks quietly, surprising you with the directness of his question.

You blink, taken aback by his unexpected interest. You weren’t expecting him to ask, let alone seem genuinely curious. You glance down at your hands, feeling a little exposed but somehow comfortable enough to answer.

“I don’t know,” you admit, letting out a small sigh. “Everything, I guess. My mom died a few years ago, and it’s been… hard. I haven’t really figured out how to move forward. I’ve been helping my dad at the shop and just… keeping things steady, I guess. It’s like I’m stuck.”

Billy’s gaze sharpens slightly at the mention of your mom, his blue eyes clouding with something darker, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, his expression unreadable.

“I know my dad means well,” you continue, your voice softer now, “but he wants me to get out more, live my life, you know? It’s just… hard. Every time I think about what I should be doing, I feel guilty. Like I’m leaving him and my mom behind.”

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and suddenly, you realize how much you’ve said. You glance at Billy, worried you’ve overshared, but he’s still watching you closely.

For a moment, there’s silence again, but this time, it feels different. More charged, like you’ve opened a door that wasn’t meant to be opened. Billy shifts in his seat, his jaw tightening just slightly, and for a second, you think maybe he’s going to brush it off or change the subject.

But then he surprises you.

“I get it,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something raw in his gaze, something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Losing someone… it messes with you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. It’s the most vulnerable he’s been since you sat down, and it catches you off guard. There’s something in the way he says it—like he knows exactly what that kind of loss feels like.

You study his face, noticing the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker with something deeper, something he’s clearly not willing to talk about just yet. But it’s there, hidden beneath the surface.

“I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” you say softly, breaking the tension with a small, apologetic smile.

Billy shakes his head, his expression softening just a little. “It’s fine. Sometimes… it’s easier to talk to someone who can understand.”

You nod, feeling a strange connection forming between the two of you, even though you’ve barely scratched the surface of who Billy really is. There’s still so much you don’t know, so much he’s clearly keeping hidden, but for the first time, you feel like you’ve glimpsed a piece of the real him. The guy behind the walls.

The noise of the bar seems to fade away for a moment, the world shrinking down to just the two of you at this small table, surrounded by the chaos of laughter and music. You feel the weight of his gaze on you.

Before you can say anything more, Billy’s eyes flick toward the door, and his entire demeanor shifts. His shoulders tense, his jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as if he’s just spotted something—or someone—that makes him uneasy.

You follow his gaze, but all you see is a group of rowdy guys stumbling through the door, shouting and laughing as they head toward the bar. Nothing unusual, just another group of late-night partiers. But Billy seems… on edge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Billy shakes his head, standing up abruptly. “I’ve got to go,” he mutters, his voice tight.

You stand up too, confusion swirling in your chest. “Billy, wait—”

But he’s already moving toward the exit, his steps quick and deliberate. You watch him push through the crowd, disappearing into the night before you can stop him.

You stand there for a moment, frozen in place, trying to make sense of what just happened. The bar feels louder now, the noise crashing back into your senses as the door swings shut behind him. You’re left standing by the table, your heart racing, questions swirling in your mind.

As you glance toward the door again, a knot of unease tightens in your chest. Whatever just spooked Billy—it wasn’t something casual. It was personal. And whatever it was, it’s clear that Billy’s past, the one you’ve been so curious about, isn’t as far behind him as he’d like to pretend.

You feel it now—an undeniable pull toward him. Whatever darkness he’s running from, whatever secret he’s keeping… you can’t shake the feeling that you’re about to be pulled into it too.

Comment to be added to the tag list for this story!

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy stranger things #stranger things billy #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove series

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ladyfocalors · 7 months ago

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Slipping Through My Fingers

pairing: Childe x sibling!Reader

warning: angst but it’s an open ending, murder, blood, mentions of death, family conflict... do tell me if I missed anything.

note: So I am writing for Childe now. Did not see that one coming. When did that happen? I just got hit with a strong desire to read some platonic sibling angst stuff with Childe. Sadly, I found none that matched my brainrot. I like angst and I couldn’t resist the brainrot and this is what happened.

A big thank you to @zeldadou for proofreading this and providing some ideas.

word count: 1k

The sun hung above the horizon, its fading light casting long shadows among the trees, their branches weighed down by snow. Winters in Snezhnaya were unforgiving, but today the weather was somewhat tame, offering a short rest from the constant biting cold.

You clutched the bundle of materials tightly, each step causing a soft crunch through the layers of snow beneath your boots. It was rare for you to venture this far away from home, but a spur-of-the-moment decision, fuelled by the news of Ajax coming home soon, was what brought you here. The thought of seeing your younger brother after his long absence filled you with warmth.

Ajax had always been a spirited and adventurous boy, traits he had carried from childhood into adulthood. As a child, he would eagerly pull at your sleeve, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he would show you his latest discovery. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, his boundless enthusiasm both endearing and exhausting.

Of all your siblings, Ajax had always been the one closest to you. You remembered the pride in his eyes when he became the elder brother, eagerly assuming the role of protector and leader, rallying the younger ones to your side as well. You cherished those moments spent together, especially after he was sent to the Fatui.

Lost in thought, you missed the signs of danger until it was too late. The crunch of snow underfoot, foreign and menacing, shattered the tranquil silence, jolting you awake from your thoughts.

With a sudden jerk, your arm was dragged back, a startled cry escaping your lips as your grip on the bag faltered, its contents spilling to the ground. Before you could fully comprehend the situation, a swift intervention sent your attacker reeling away from you.

As you staggered back, heart racing, a glimpse of familiar ginger hair caught your eye. But instead of comfort, shock consumed you.

Your shock turned to numbing fear as the violent scene played out before you. Unable to bear witness anymore, you averted your gaze, focusing on steadying your breath.

A sickening thud nearby drew your attention, the scent of blood mingling with the frigid air as the pristine snow now painted crimson. You forced yourself to look back, refusing to accept what you saw. Ajax stood amidst the turmoil, moving with a precision that was both mesmerizing and terrifying. He seemed at home in this violence, as if he had done this before.

This can’t be right, you told yourself. There must be some other explanation. Ajax couldn't possibly be capable of such violence. He was your little brother, after all, the boy who used to cling to your side, full of energy and mischief. This couldn't be him.

You didn’t know whether it was minutes or seconds that passed but Ajax finally came to your side as a torch was lit by what you could assume as Ajax’s Fatui coworkers.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

“Ajax,” you said, ignoring his question yet scared to continue your own. “How many... how many have you killed?”

You couldn’t read his expression in the dim light. The smell of death and the sight of so much blood seemed to rile something up inside you, a mix of fear and anger that clouded your thoughts. You were unable to grasp onto a single thought in your head, all seemed to be a jumble of things and you couldn’t calm down.

“Many,” was his reply after a long pause of silence.

“Why?” you immediately demanded, your voice desperate and trembling. “You are just a trainee. It's the Harbinger’s job to spill blood, isn’t it? It’s their job to be the reaper of chaos and destruction. They’re evil but not you. So, why?”

You heard him sigh and say, “It's not as simple as you think.”

You recoiled at his bleak response, taking a step back from him. “Not simple?” you asked incredulously. “I don’t want your defiance; I only want the truth from you. I asked, why are you killing people?”

He ran a hand through his hair, whether out of frustration or weariness, you couldn’t tell. For a split second you could see his face illuminated by the flames from the torches and all you could see was his dead eyes devoid of any emotions. He was a stranger.

“I am the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, not a trainee,” he admitted.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. You steeled yourself, taking in a sharp breath of air. You didn’t know whether you should feel angry or cry or crumble in fear.

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand,” he continued, his tone softer now. “But things are not always as they seem. The Fatui, the Harbingers... our actions are driven by more than just a desire for chaos. The Tsaritsa-”

You shook your head, unable to comprehend his words. “I don’t care about powers or politics,” you said, your voice wavering. “I care about you, Ajax. And what you are doing is putting yourself in danger. You cannot justify this. What could justify you becoming a pawn in their twisted game of power? Do you even realise that you mean nothing to them?! And why lie to me?”

You were met with silence. His face was once again illuminated by the torch. You looked at the Fatuus holding the torch. Looking around, you realise that Ajax being here wasn’t a coincidence. From the looks of it, they must have been tasked to kill the group of people who had tried to attack you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears welling up his eyes. “Please don’t hate me.”

A part of your heart broke at his words. For a moment all you could see was the young boy who looked up to you, the one that would proudly show the fish he caught, his eyes gleaming with excitement. You blinked your tears away, the visual of the young boy now gone.

“I can never hate you,” you say, your throat heavy. “But I do not accept what you are doing either. You cannot resort to violence, especially murder.”

Wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, you turned away, eyes brimming with unshed tears. If you could turn back time and stop your father from enrolling your brother into the Fatui, you would have. He may have been very reckless and out of control at times but throwing him to the Fatui was a mistake. The Fatui didn't train him to control his temper as your parents had promised you.

“Pick up the things from the ground, those are for you. I am going home.”

#[𓇼] The Steambird's latest #genshin impact #platonic genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact childe #childe x reader #platonic childe x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader

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starlostseungmin · 2 years ago

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— subside. lmh

pairing: tsundere!lee know x gn!reader ft. changbin genre: angst if you squint, fluff warnings: profanity, consumptions of alcohol, not proofread. word count: 1.1k notes: hello, i hope you’re having a great day, i reposted this one because it's not showing on tags. please reblog, leave your feedbacks and put tags alright? don't let it flop! thank you very much love ♡

rain.

nobody told him about the weather tonight, nor his phone that was unused for an hour on his side table. he was too busy一probably. he couldn’t even sleep a wink when the rain is pouring hard outside. the continuous tapping of raindrops on the glass windows, the loud splashes of water flowing from the roof to the cement, his room wasn’t soundproof at all. minho kept tossing and turning until his hand reached for his phone to check the time, 1:10 am.

“fuck,” he groaned, collapsing again on his warm bed with a beige duvet covering half of his tired body. his frustration felt heavy when he heard his ringtone echoing inside his bedroom. rolling his eyes, he went to reach for it again. who in the right mind would call him at this hour?

“what the fuck do you want?” he asked, growling at the person he was talking with.

“chill dude, y/n’s drunk, you need to come here.” changbin laughed at the other side of the line. minho knitted his brows as he stared at the ceiling trying to comprehend what his friend just said.

“y/n?” minho asked. “why is y/n with you?”

“uhm, we invited them to drink with us for a post-new year celebration?”

“and i wasn’t invited?” minho asked, raising a brow even if changbin couldn’t see it.

“you refused,” changbin argued. “anyway, i can’t walk y/n home, i have other people to take care of that’s why i’m calling you,”

“y/n’s not my responsibility,” minho scoffed as changbin rolled his eyes.

“shut up,” changbin laughed. “pick up your person, ‘kay? i’m hanging up,”

letting out a harsh sigh, minho forced himself to get up and change his clothes. it has been days since changbin planned that drinking party of his with the rest of the seniors in his college. the former didn’t even think about going when he thought it would be nice to chill inside his room and sleep. but sleeping wasn’t friendly on a rainy midnight. he had to drag himself out and take you home.

you are not special to him, you were just another friend he could use to satisfy his lonely time. but it’s not every second minho would see you just to cover up a hole一he knew it sounds cruel but you are not a bad person to him either. changbin also knew you liked him but minho is just blind to see that. you gave a few hints before but minho chose to ignore them. he doesn’t like you as much as you do, nor share the same perspective of what is love all about. you were just a friend, a colleague, and the usual person he sees inside the campus but he is more than that to you.

the rain subsided the moment minho arrived outside the pub while you were sitting on the bench alone with your head hung low after the alcohol invaded your system. changbin and the rest of the seniors were nowhere to be found, just the waitress at the pub who tried to stay with you until someone arrives. minho knitted his brows upon realizing they left you alone, he wanted to beat changbin’s ass when he sees him for leaving you like this.

“ahh,” he sighs in disbelief. “why did they leave you here all alone?” he asked, approaching you with a bottle of hangover drink in his hand. he bowed and thanked the waitress for staying with you and decided to take the empty spot on the same bench. you were half-conscious when you sensed someone was sitting beside you and lift your head, seeing a blurry vision of minho’s face.

“y/n, wake up,” he said. a sheepish smile formed on your lips when you realized it was him but your head didn’t let you look at him for a while and fell on his shoulder. minho got stiff. he doesn’t know what to do.

“i said wake up, i’m not going to carry you home,” he added but you didn’t move.

minho waited for a response and took a deep breath. he didn’t even know why he came when changbin called nor bought a hangover drink before going to the pub to fetch you. standing up on his perspective, he was firm about it. he doesn’t like you, maybe he cares or is just confused. there are a lot of things running inside his head. you are not special, just a usual friend and a colleague, nothing else more一

“ya,” you said, out of consciousness. “do you think i have a chance?”

liquid courage wasn’t a part of the plan nor was minho showing up at midnight because changbin told him to. it was your drunk self, talking to the person you like while he’s having an internal crisis about his actions. minho didn’t move and let you rest on his shoulder and will not expect any confessions for sure but maybe he couldn’t stop you from doing so.

“do you think i still have a chance?” you asked, opening your eyes一staring at the pavement. “when are you going to see me the way i see you?” you asked again, lifting your head up一looking at him as he stared back. “or i’ll remain to be just a friend to一”

minho had to cut you off when he planted his lips on yours, kissing you softly as you sat there frozen on your spot. he could taste the flavor of soju you had a while ago, but it was nothing. it made your lips hot on a cold night and minho’s dilemma subsided. maybe he was just pushing you away to prevent any problems, or maybe it was just his feelings were buried deep down that he couldn’t understand them anymore. you stand a chance.

“drink this and sober up,” he said, handing the bottle to your hands before standing up and walking away. “move faster, let’s go,” he didn’t even bother to look back as you took a few gulps of the drink and stood up.

“wait!” you said, with your face painted red. “i can’t walk一” minho heard a loud thud and panicked upon seeing you on the ground.

“goodness!” he said, jogging towards you to help you up. “i’m going to punch changbin in the face for leaving you behind,” he added as he carried you on his back, wrapping your arms around his neck with the bottle of his hangover drink being held tightly by your hand.

“you were just about to leave一”

“shh, you’re my responsibility right now,” he said rolling his eyes as he started to walk away. your face felt the heat and still remained red, maybe it was because of the alcohol, or just him who smiled secretly.

taglist : @wolfchanchan ,, @1-800-lixie ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @lix-ables ,, @zoe8stay ,, @gwynsapphire ,, @cherryhanji ,, @lixesque ,, @seungly ,, @sleepyleeji ,, @comet-falls ,, @kim-seung-mo ,, @ppiri-bahng ,, @myjisung ,, @snow-pegasus ,, @milkybonya ,, @l3visbby ,, @wilczachannn ,, @asters-abditory ,, @tangylemonade ,, @hwan-g ,, @awkwardnesshabitat ,, @chrispychans ,, @therealhyunjingf ,, @hyunverse ,, @starseungs ,, @skizzel ,, @lino-jagiyaa ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @rachabreathing

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nonexistent-introvert · 1 year ago

Text

Back to December

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Content: Angst, breakup, apologies, miscommunication, based off back to December

A/N: In honor of Speak Now Taylor Version!!! Been listening to her on repeat. Pls listen to the song while reading for the full effect.

Javier should be happy, he had just taken down one of Cali’s godfathers, it was a dream for most DEA agents to do that. There was a celebration going on in the department for him and yet, he felt empty and anxious, the same kind of anxiety you get when you lose something close to you. He pushed his way through the crowd, stopping only briefly to force out a polite smile and shake some hands of the people who are congratulating him. Javier never liked the attention anyways, the congratulatory messages felt undeserving and insincere after hearing it for the umpteenth time.

“Start without me.” He replied to the various requests of wanting to toast him. Something was very wrong, he feels it in his gut. It was incredibly infuriating because Javier just can’t seem to pinpoint it

The epiphany hit him like a truck. Javier let out a shaky breath as he stepped on the accelerator in his car. A string of Spanish curses erupted from his lips, each one getting louder as he got more frustrated with himself. He couldn’t lose you.

Javier knew something was wrong the moment he stood outside his apartment. His gut telling him to just turn around and go enjoy his celebration, drowning himself in the alcohol before he could fully comprehend what has happened. Still, his determination to find out the truth was strong, giving him the courage to open the door even if he knew that he wouldn’t find you behind it. Javier strode through his small apartment, his heart sinking with every empty room. His eyes searching for you in desperation. Javier ran his hands through his hair, letting out another curse word in Spanish Your belongings that decorated his living space was long gone, the clothes that hung next to his were nowhere to be seen. Javier dragged himself to the comfort of his kitchen, needing the alcohol to numb the pain in his heart when he finally noticed the note with your handwriting, placed right next to the roses he had bought for you on his way home just a few days ago.

“I’m so sorry.” Three words and you were gone. Javier downed the alcohol in one go, letting the burn of the whiskey burn away the lump in his throat. His only comfort and reminder of you now were the roses in front of him, the only sign that being with you wasn’t all a figment of his imagination.

======================================

I'm so glad you made time to see me

How's life? Tell me, how's your family?

I haven't seen them in a while

You've been good, busier than ever

We small talk, work and the weather

Your guard is up and I know why

You fidgeted with your hands anxiously as you waited for Javier’s arrival. You weren’t sure if he would even show up. So seeing his broad shoulders enter the bar made you sigh in relief. He was wearing a white button-up with a tie, having long abandoned the black outerwear. Javier gave you a nod of acknowledgment while you smiled at him, “You still drink whiskey neat right?” You asked, gesturing to the whiskey you had already bought for him. “Yeah, yeah I do.” He replied, giving you a smile back in return. The tension rose in the air as the both of you enjoyed the drinks.

It had been 2 years. 2 years since you left the 2-year relationship with nothing more than 3 words.

“Thanks for coming.” You began. “How’s life?” You continued with the most basic of conversations. Javier's eyes met yours, hurt clouding his vision. The both of you have drifted to the point of talking about the usual common conversation topics. He tore his eyes away from you. “And Chucho, he doing ok?” You questioned further, trying to stop the silence from settling in between the both of you. Javier shrugged, “He’s good. I-I haven’t been back lately.” He admitted with a grimace and from the look on his face, you knew Javier was cussing himself out for not going back to visit him. Javier always blamed himself. However, you didn’t feel like you were the right person to be offering him comfort. “Work has been a little overwhelming,” Javier confessed, taking another sip of his drink. “I saw.” You nodded, “Um- through the news and all.” You inhaled, you weren’t sure if Javier cared but you figured he had to know. “I’m proud of you, you’re really making a difference.” Javier's eyes shot up to meet yours before he let out a laugh, “Am I?” He asked incredulously. Javier tried to ignore the pain in his heart, he had lost you to pursue this change in the world, was it really worth it? Javier shook his head, turning his head to the crowd in the bar instead. You knew him well enough to know that he didn’t need any other comments, he didn’t want to continue this conversation about his contributions.

It was small talk and curt replies. You clenched your jaw to stifle the ache in your heart. It hurts, it made it hard to breathe. Javier used to look at you with adoration and a soft smile, now he was avoiding your eye contact despite you trying your best to hold onto him. It was the consequences of your actions after all, you had to face it one day or another, or you could let the guilt and the possibility of ‘what could have been’ haunt you for the rest of your life.

You never knew that Javier being on guard around you would hurt you this much. It was only now did you realize how much he had truly opened up to you then. How much he trusted you with his vulnerabilities only for you to take it all for granted.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

The pained look on his face every time he met eye contact with you was enough to break your heart. He furrowed his eyebrows and clenched his jaw before averting his gaze away from you, as though it physically hurts him to look at you. Like a moth to a flame, no matter how much it hurts, Javier couldn’t help the fact that his eyes. would always search for yours. The note next to the roses, he could remember it like it was yesterday. He has replayed that memory so many times till the point it had burned itself into the lining of his mind, trying to find out what had gone so wrong between the both of you. He was sure everything was well, he was sure he gave himself fully to you. The withered roses he had came back to after burying himself in work was another cruel reminder that his relationship with you had came to an end.

==============

These days, I haven't been sleepin'

Stayin' up playin' back myself leavin'

When your birthday passed and I didn't call

Javier Peña never left your thoughts. He rarely did when you were with him and he never did when you left him. There were fragments of him everywhere you went, especially when it reached his birthday month. The memory of you packing up, of you breaking down on his couch the very same night before you finally mustered the courage to leave and not turn back. It was a rash and impulsive decision but if you gave it any other extra thought you would not have committed to leaving. The worst part of it all? The relationship would have destroyed you no matter if you had chosen to leave or stay with Javier and you didn’t want to drag him down into the wreckage. The problem was you, you didn’t want to fight, you didn’t want it to end in an ugly fight, so you left. Or maybe you were just too afraid to open up and face Javier. The word ‘maybe’, was what kept you awake at night. You would stare at the calendar on your desk, the date marked with “Javi’s birthday” was like a stab to your chest. You should call, at least wish him, and hope he isn’t overworking himself and that he had all three meals. You fidgeted with the pen in your hand, trying to put yourself in Javier’s shoes. Ultimately, you would come to the conclusion that it was unfair to leave him, only to reappear in his life on his birthday showing concern for him. You swallowed, forcing yourself to scribble out that reminder on your calendar. You didn’t need it anymore.

On the other side of the earth, Javier's fingers hovered over your contact number in a payphone booth. Curls of his hair have fallen onto his forehead and stuck to it because of the sweat. He missed you so much, he just wanted to hear your voice. Especially when he had just dodged a bullet and barely made it back to Bogota alive. Javier needed you.

But he still forced himself out of the payphone booth. You must have left for a reason.

Then I think about summer, all the beautiful times

I watched you laughin' from the passenger's side

And realized I loved you in the fall

The most beautiful moments in your life were spent with Javier. It was hard forgetting such beauty. The times when he would drive you around his hometown, excitedly telling you all about his childhood and pointing out buildings. When his shoulders were less tensed and a smile graced his features easily in the comfort and safety of his hometown. When his laugh made your stomach fill with butterflies and your ears turn red. It was a simple memory but it carried so much beauty. That Javier was a different person compared to the Javier you see in Columbia. Maybe things would have turned out differently if he was always that Javier who was happy and not the version of him in Columbia who had a constant scowl on his face, a permanent wrinkle in between his eyebrows from frowning too much, and the asshole who pushed everyone away.

You loved it when the orange hues of autumn and the sunlight was paired together, highlighting his features, and making his smile even brighter than it already is. You preferred it more than a dim desk lamp that cast a shadow against his face as he worked tirelessly into the night. Sadly, that was the version of him you were more familiar with, the scene of him being overwhelmed with work was a more common sight than a smile on his face.

And then the cold came, the dark days

When fear crept into my mind

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

It felt like waking up from a dream when the both of you eventually returned to Columbia after Autumn. Chucho sent the both of you away reluctantly with various snacks he had bought from a local store. The keychain of a cow still hung from your home keys, a reminder of the ranch that Chucho owned, the ranch that Javier had grown up in.

During the winter, the nights were longer, making Javier’s absence even more apparent than it already is. You pulled another blanket over you, trying to fight the cold of the winter. Javier was always your personal heater, but he isn’t here with you. He rarely is. With nothing else to occupy yourself, you let yourself drown in your own thoughts. The overthinking induced fear, fear for your relationship with him. A fear that you didn’t even notice until it was too late, when it had already plagued your mind till it induced a ‘fight and flight’ response in your mind. Javier made promises, promises that you knew he tried his best to fulfill. Promises that he would spend all his time with you, preferably back in Laredo, and that he would leave this bloodbath known as the drug cartels. However, the cold only made the fear spread. The drug cartels were like the Hydra, slice its head off and another one grows back. The idea of Javier being able to leave this bloodbath seems like a fairytale. You only fear that the only way out would be at the cost of his life.

You knew, you knew that you were a weakness for him. Javier had admitted it to you before which is why he was very overprotective of you. If anyone came after you because of him, Javier would unleash all hell upon them. You too, wouldn’t forgive yourself if he had gotten hurt because of you. In his job, Javier couldn’t afford to have a weakness.

Javier had given all of himself to you. He needed you to know how much you meant to him, that he couldn’t live without you. This amount of love manifested itself as a weakness for him and you felt sorry that you didn’t have the capability to contain the love he had given you. It was the worst trade ever, all of his love only to receive a goodbye in return.

======

So this is me swallowin' my pride

Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night

And I go back to December all the time

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you

Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine

I'd go back to December, turn around and change my own mind

I go back to December all the time

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, those eyes that still made your knees weak. Your heart was pacing till the point that you could hear it thumping in your eardrums. You swallowed the pride that has stopped you from reaching out before, in fear of rejection.

“I really shouldn’t have done that. I'm sorry. I know I should have talked to you.” You paused, trying to find the words to convey your thoughts. You were never good with words. Javier downed his whiskey, staring down at the floor. Your fingernails dug into your skin at his indifferent reaction, you needed to go on despite how much it hurts to witness his reaction.

“I miss you Javi, I really do. If I could turn back time and make myself realize how much you truly mean to me I would. I would have chosen to stay.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Javier coldly questioned. It was at times like this where he was thankful that he was trained to keep a poker face so that you couldn’t see how much his heart is burning for you.

“I was terrified of losing you. Both figuratively and literally.” Javier frowned further at that, his eyes shining with a glint of curiosity and confusion. You rubbed the back of your neck, unsure how to phrase it for him.

“Your job, it carries some risks that I understand but matters just kept getting more and more dangerous. I was afraid that one day you wouldn’t be able to walk through your apartment door again. I was terrified that you lose yourself to the job, letting the haunting scenes and guilt haunt you till the point where you were too far gone.” You explained to him. To put it simply, you were too afraid to carry his burdens with you, too afraid of having to bear the weight with him. You didn’t think you could handle it when the shine in his eyes one day dimmed till the point of no return and he looked at you with eyes with no soul behind them. Javier downed another glass of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat, similar to how his heart burns.

“But the time I spent with you. I will never regret it. I go back to those times every time, missing you and hoping to experience it again.” You admitted, trying to blink away the tears that has formed in your eyes. You prayed that Javier takes your watery eyes as a simple reflection of light.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile

So good to me, so right

“I miss you Javier, I really do. I miss seeing the smile on your face everytime your eyes meet with mine, and your tan skin that contrasted your bright eyes, making your eyes shine even brighter.” Your ears burned at the admission, feeling like a teenager confessing to their crush again. Javier had always given his best to you, he had always tried to do right by you. You were just too blinded by fear then to notice the obvious.

“Was this why you were crying that day when I found you?” Javier questioned again, his mind swirling with questions for you. Deep down, a pang of guilt wrapped around his heart, he must have missed out on something or done something wrong. He messed up like he always did. The worst part of it all was that he never noticed.

======

And how you held me in your arms that September night

The first time you ever saw me cry

Javier’s heart shattered when he saw your tear-stricken face. You were curled up in a ball on the bed, your hand trying to wipe at the never-ending tears while your whole body shook uncontrollably.

“Cariño,” He called out, “What's wrong? What happened?” Javier asked, hurriedly walking towards you. You immediately stood up from the bed, your back facing him, trying to hide the tears. “Fine.” You managed to croak out. Javier slowly approached you, not wanting to scare you away. “Please talk to me.” He pleaded. You shook your head, “It’s stupid, just an emotional scene on TV”

You turned around, facing him with a smile. His heart broke into a million pieces. He knew you were lying. You were smiling, the traces of the tears long gone. It terrified him how good you were at hiding your emotions. How many times have you simply just covered up those tears with the smile he loved so much and he just never noticed due to his exhaustion from work? Your eyes scanned him up and down before you fell into his embrace. Relieved to see him back in one piece. Javier was by your side again and that was all it matters. The thoughts that haunted you when you were alone vanished when he was with you.

That was the first time Javier had seen you cry. His mind was in a complete mess as he embraced you against him. Disappointment tugged at his heart, did you not trust him? Why did you have to hide your emotions from him? “Tell me what was the reason for this?” His thumb caressed your cheeks which had been covered in tears just a moment ago. You snuggled into the crook of his neck.

“I’m fine Javi, just an emotional scene on TV.”

Javier dropped the subject after, trusting that you would talk to him when you felt better. And yet you never did. However, his workload made it easy to forget that he has yet to find out the reason behind his tears. He didn’t pursue it then, maybe things would have been different if he had.

======

Maybe this is wishful thinkin'

Probably mindless dreamin'

But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right

You nodded glumly to his question. “Fuck” Javier breathed out, downing yet another glass of whiskey. The urge to stop him from drinking, from intoxicating himself for the better of his health was there, but you knew you didn’t have the right to anymore. Honestly, you could use the alcohol courage too, you were just afraid that you may black out before you finish what had to be done.

“I-” You started but close your mouth again, picking your next words carefully. You met his eyes again, a small happiness in your heart when you felt your heart pace, even after all the time apart, he still had the same effect on you. Glad to know that your feelings for him weren't from the past memories but for Javier himself.

“This is wishful thinking.” You thought out loud. Javier's eyes widened at your words. “What is?” He asked, swirling the whiskey in his hands. The glimmer of hope ignited in his heart, despite everything you had done, he couldn’t help that his heart still yearns for your love. You swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm your erratic heart.

“If you gave me a chance again, I’ll love you right this time.” The words were finally out.

I'd go back in time and change it, but I can't

So if the chain is on your door, I understand

His silence only made your nerves worse. “I really wish I could go back and change how things ended between us but I know you can’t” You continued, fidgeting uncontrollably under the table.

When you met his eyes and saw the blank look on his face, your heart shattered into a million pieces. “I understand if you won’t. It’s ok.” You told him, forcing the lump in your throat back down. “I wanted to see you today to apologize, not to ask for a second chance anyways.”

“I’m so sorry,” Javier replied. Your heart combusted at his words, a ringing sound in your ears. It was the very same three words that you had told him when you left him. Now that you heard it for yourself, you finally realize that it hurts more than you had thought. You let out a laugh, feeling foolish to even think Javier would give you another chance. “I get it.” You grinned at him.

As much as Javier wanted to reach out to you and give you the chance to love him again. He couldn’t bring himself to know that he can’t give you what you want. That he can’t choose between you and the DEA. He couldn’t handle it if history was to repeat itself. He didn’t want to go through that pain again. He would rather feel lonely than compromise your safety and let you be his weakness again.

“Thank you for everything, Javier.” You smiled warmly at him, glad to finally lift the burden off your chest. Despite how your heart bled at the fact that the both of you were not going to be anything more. You deserved it. At least, you had the memories of your time together to accompany you.

But this is me swallowin' my pride

Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night

And I go back to December

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you

Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine

I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright

I'd go back to December, turn around and change my own mind

I go back to December all the time

All the time

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fuwahua · 1 month ago

Text

Chase

Tktober Day 2 - Chase

Tags: Sylvain / Felix from FE3H , Seemingly unrequited love, crush, white clouds period, sylvain exploding (affectionate)

Sylvix per request ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ Back to the academy!!

“Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

“Me? Avoiding him? Well well, how the turn tables!”

Dimitri stares at him, brows knitted partly in concern for Sylvain’s mental state and partly because no doubt Felix was somewhere in the vicinity, probably prowling the garden in anticipation of Sylvain admitting that he was avoiding the other. Which he wouldn’t admit, by the way. Because he had nothing to admit! He wasn’t avoiding the other!!

…. Not for the most part, anyway.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure you’re avoiding him either. Professor sat you both down to eat twice this week already,” Dimitri says, and Sylvain bites back a laugh at the petulant tone he takes on at the mention of Byleth. “You were clearly captivated by her but it’s certainly not out of place from you.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with dinner and a show? Besides, I see how you look at her. Can’t blame me for trying!”

Dimitri flushes. “I-I would never!”

“Listen, between you and me, I heard they’re getting a shipment of her favorite teas in. I could tell you which ones to pick out if you want.” Dimitri’s eyes widen, zoning into his every word, and Sylvain grins as he spins an at least partly true story of Byleth’s preferences.

Felix doesn’t come up for the rest of their conversation.

“Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

“Me? Why, I’d never!”

Ingrid scowls at him, lips jutting out the way she’d never grown out of since childhood. Sylvain chuckles, crossing his arms languidly behind his head. “How could I avoid him? We only take class together every single day.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Ingrid says. “I saw you both eating with Professor Byleth in the cafeteria last week. You were speaking with her the entire time, even though Felix was right besides you. Isn’t that a form of avoidance?”

“What? Did that happen?” Sylvain coughs, scratching his head. “He probably just wasn’t saying much. Can’t blame a guy for talking to someone who actually replies. And, hey, don’t you spend the entire mealtime scarfing down your food instead of conversing with your partner?”

“That’s—it’s not related!”

“I dunno,” he whistles. “That’s not what Dorothea said last time~”

“Dorothea? What did Dorothea say? Sylvain? Sylvain!”

“You’re on weed duty with Felix this week.”

“Wha—professor, really?”

Sylvain groans, cupping his face in his hands. It’s not unusual for Byleth to assign them odd and ends chores every week, sometimes keeping them the same no matter the weather (Ingrid practically lives in the stables with Marianne, through heat wave and snow. He really should drop by with snacks one day). But weed pulling? The thing Dimitri used to get assigned to before she caught him putting it in his mouth??

“I’m not fit for weed pulling, it doesn’t fit my,” he hesitates, mind whirring. “Skillset. I’d be a better help with the horses, you know. Why not swap me and Ingrid for once?”

Byleth gives him a slow blink. Her eyes look dead inside, but they kind of always looked like that. “Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

He groans a second time. Of course. “He told you that?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I heard it from Claude.” Claude? Entirely different house Claude? Byleth nods. “Who heard it from Hilda, who heard it from Marianne, who heard it from Ingrid, who heard it from Dedue, who heard it from Dimitri, who heard it from—”

“Felix,” Sylvain manages. He doesn’t groan a third time, though it is a near thing. “Felix told him.”

“Yes.” Byleth tips her head, staring at him. Or into his soul. Whichever. “If you already knew that, why haven’t you spoken to him yet?”

Sylvain doesn’t answer, eyes darting away. He knows that red will show on his cheeks regardless, yet dense as Felix is, Byleth is denser, and neither of them would even begin to comprehend what it could possibly mean when the childhood friend who flirts with you an entire lifetime suddenly starts stuttering through conversations like a fool half the time and avoiding you the rest. A mystery! Truly, an unsolvable, closed room case!!

“You could put a question in the advice box if you’d rather ask anonymously.”

“Professor, you write all our names on your answers. That’s not anonymous.”

“It’s more effective that way. Students work better when their advice is direct.” She smiles, raising a hand before she turns. “I’ll see you and Felix at the garden on Sunday.”

Her coat covers absolutely everything as she walks away. He stares at her figure regardless, cupping a hand over his mouth.

Fuck.

Felix is there at the crack of dawn, already hunched over the weeds and pulling them with the force of eighteen years of repressed rage. It’s almost impressive how efficiently he works through the grass as a noble: sure, he tears a little more grass than weed sometimes, but the green staining his gloves and the half-full buckle is proof of his hard work. The grass crunches beneath Sylvain’s feet as he enters.

Felix looks up and Sylvain bites down on the urge to flee.

“Good morning,” he says instead. Felix stares at him a moment longer, gaze lingering.

Beautiful. Wispy strands of hair stick to Felix’s cheek where sweat has begun to bead after a morning of hard work, cheeks pink with exertion and making clear the elegant edges of high cheekbones. He looks like a model, not a man hunched over a schoolyard, but fuck if those cat eyes drinking him in aren’t some of the prettiest he’s ever seen. Maybe the prettiest. At least top five. Top three?

“Good morning.” He doesn’t stare at Felix’s lips. He doesn’t. he doesn’t, he doesn’t. Maybe if he chants it enough times, the smudge of pink across those lips will fade from his memory.

It doesn’t.

Sylvain manages a smile, opening his mouth as Felix turns back to the garden, hands already returning to work. Well! That’s fine, then. Better than running his mouth and embarrassing himself even more than he’d already had for the week.

Weed pulling is, despite his complaints, not the worst chore to be assigned at Garreg Mach. It’s almost calming, a mindless chore of pulling and pulling, and he’s sure that on any other day, any other occasion, he’d be thankful for the still, calm quiet of an early Sunday. Hell, he’d probably still enjoy it today if Byleth was here! Or literally anyone else!

He pulls a little too hard on a weed and dirt goes flying, spraying his neatly pressed pants with it. Sylvain exhales and bites his lip rather than complaining the way he would if he were alone; Felix shifts besides him, eyes still down on the garden, but the angle is perfect, the shine of his hair is inviting, glossy, and Sylvain just wants to—

His hand stretches outwards just as Felix turns. And instead of navy strands of hair meeting his fingers, Sylvain finds his palm cupping Felix’s cheek instead.

His pink cheek. His warm cheek. Warm with exercise, warm with blood pumping through his body to keep him alive, warm with, maybe, the realization that they’re alone together at a time when no one else is awake.

Oh, goddess. He can’t do this.

“I-I need to go.”

Grass rustles as he jolts to his feet, unsteady, fight or flight screaming in his mind. Sylvain barely manages a backstep before Felix is up with him, bucket of collected weeds banging as it spills his morning’s hardship all over the floor. He gapes at him, eyes widening, as golden eyes fixate on him. Felix’s hands clench. Unclench. His pulse rises. Sylvain swallows.

He runs.

Felix runs right after him.

His scream is very dignified. “What are you doing? You have weeds to pick!”

“What are you doing!” Felix yells back. Their footsteps echo through the empty halls, louder than they have any right to be, and a painting of the goddess looks disapprovingly upon them when Sylvain nearly bangs his shoulder on a sharp turn. There’s a clang of metal behind him, closer than it has any right to be, and he shouts when a left turn sends him stumbling into the nearby wall. His head rings, dazed, before it’s slammed forward a second time when Felix’s body barrels right behind him and sending them sprawling on the floor.

Felix, on him. Sylvain sweats, already trying to turn back, but Felix’s hands grab his wrists and press down. “Wait—wait!”

“What’s with you?” Felix snarls. Sylvain gasps as his wrists are wrenched downwards, Felix’s weight on his back sending every alarm in his head screaming. He’s warm, goddess, fuck, he’s so warm. “Are you insane? Running through the Academy like a criminal?”

“M-maybe I like to be chased!” He sputters. His cheeks are burning. There’s nothing around him but the ground and Felix, and fuck, Felix is all he can think about.

“As if,” Felix says, scathing. “Tell that to the women who want you to leave them alone. Why is it that when they want to see you, you’re always gone?”

“That’s, you know, the thrill of the chase!” Sylvain gasps as Felix pins his hands down with his knees instead, flat palms encircling his waist; the whine that startles out of him is shameless. “Wahahaait, hold on, that ticklehehes!”

Felix blinks and then those fingers move now, spidering, and Sylvain shrieks. “Good.”

He says something between “No!” or “Felix, listen!” he thinks, maybe, but any and all coherent thoughts racing in his mind are drowned out by the urge to throw his head back in giggles as Felix’s hands dig roughly into the curve of his hips. He does exactly that, eyes squeezing shut yet unable to block out the electric currents running beneath his skin.

Sylvain’s fist hits the hard floor before he tries rolling out from under Felix’s grasp, squeaking and curling up when doing so just lets rough fingers slide between the uniform shirt. It feels impossible for his face to grow hotter but it does, burning, every sensation amplified by his yearning embarrassment. “Fehehehlix! Stahahahp!”

“Why should I?”

What does he say? What can he say? That the touch is already too much, that he might be going insane if this continues, that it doesn’t really matter if Felix’s hands are above the belt when his minds been flip-flopping about them in this exact position the past two weeks?

“I—cohohome on! I cahaHAHAN’T think likehehe this!”

Felix doesn’t offer him a verbal response, opting instead to pry his shirt higher and claw at the exposed skin. If the very thought of it is overwhelming, then the actual thing might well destroy the fragile thread of sanity still left in his head; Sylvain thrashes, attempting to rise to his elbows, to kick out his legs, but all his struggling does is have his shirt fall more open, a wide expanse of weakness open for the taking. Felix does, hands crawling upwards, rough, harsh, tracing every clenched muscle and earning choked out pleas and the very scrambled mess Sylvain’s brain is melting into.

“Plehehahahase!”

“Stop moving.” Felix hisses in his ear, which absolutely does not help.

“HAHAHAHOW?!”

There’s a snort, genuinely amused, and Sylvain’s certain he’s red from the tops of his ears down to his shoulders at the noise. “Figure it out yourself.”

Goddess, have mercy.

The echo of his begging in the hall is horribly embarrassing, but worse than that is the shrieky hiccupping bouts of laughter he takes on when Felix’s hands make their way beneath his arms. He hasn’t been tickled in years, not since they were kids, but he’d always, always had the height advantage back then against Felix; no one besides Glenn knew how badly it tickled there, and he honestly thought he might’ve been able to take that information with him to the grave if not for the way Felix focused on his armpits now, relentless, and Sylvain shakes with renewed desperation as tears begin to bead in his eyes.

“FEHEHEHELIX! I’M GONNAHAHAA DIEHEHEHEHE!”

“Huh. You’re actually really ticklish.”

No shit. Felix shifts on him and Sylvain swallows as he’s reminded yet again of their position, of Felix right on him, thighs clamped around his hips. It’s too easy for his mind to spin back, a swaying pendulum vying to either melt into the floor to escape the tickling or lay there if it meant Felix would continue to touch him.

Touching him. Right. It’s Felix’s hands on him. Felix’s hands that are digging in all over him.

He’s going to explode.

“Oh, good morning.”

“Wha—Professor!”

Sylvain wheezes as he’s shoved away, hastily taking the opportunity to curl up and hide his crimson face as Byleth and Felix’s voices wash over him. What time must it be, for Byleth to be coming down this route? No doubt half the student population woke up to his screeching laughter—at least his reputation was bad enough he could get away with it. Sylvain rubs at his face, teeth clicking in embarrassment at the ticklish tears that have begun to fall, only to flinch at a poke to his side. “H-hey!”

“Pay attention.” Felix’s usual scowl has slid neatly back in place as he jabs Sylvain’s side again. His eyes flicker up to Sylvain, widening for a moment at the no doubt mess of his red, wet cheeks, before darting away again.

He isn’t the only one to notice. “Sylvain, are you crying?”

He shakes his head at Byleth’s question. “I’m fine, professor. Just, uh, got my ass handed to me.”

She quirks a brow. “Pretty early for an ass beating.”

He laughs at that, startled; his amused gaze flickers to Felix before his laugh takes on a flustered element when Felix meets his gaze openly, golden eyes searching his. “I—er, yeah? Right, Felix?”

Felix coughs, gaze dropping first. “It was deserved.”

“Hm. Well, I’m glad you’ve talked it out. Or beat it out,” Byleth pauses. “But I’m just here to check on the chores.”

The chores? Oh, the chores.

“Did you finish cleaning the weeds?”

“Ahaha…. About that… it’s a long story…?”

“Seteth should be at the lawn right now,” she hums, tapping her chin before amusement sparkles in her eyes. Sylvain swallows. “Knowing him… I’ll see you both after class for detention today?”

Both. Him and Felix, probably alone, with professor. He turns to Felix, mouth agape, but the other turns away the moment their eyes meet. It’s enough, though, for Sylvain to see the pink of his ears, the twitching of his cheek, the way his hands cross over his chin.

The hands that were under his shirt just minutes ago.

Aw fuck.

“We’ll be there, professor.”

He really needs to learn how to melt into the floor.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #felix fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier #sylvix #tickling #my fic #tickletober 2024 #sylvain going through the gay panic hard #byleth knows exactly whats up actually but its funnier to pretend like she doesnt know and watch them flop around #like sylvain i too am exploding but instead of it being over a cute guy tis bc of work </3 #hc that sylvain knows he is deathly ticklish but made sure no one. NO ONE knew his entire life and then hilda finds out one day and ITS OVE

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babyonboard · 2 years ago

Text

pit stop | joel miller x f!reader

Summary: On the way back from Bill and Frank's house, Joel and his neighbor have to make a pit stop at a farmhouse to rest. Heated interactions ensue.

Warnings: 18+ only. Guns. Age gap. unprotected p in v sex (literally wear a condom in real life I’m begging), oral (f receiving), spitting, spanking, kinda choking? a sweet little mix of degradation and praise. Size kink if you squint. Joel is hot and has a big dick. Bad plot to porn ratio. Sorry.

Word count: 3.9k

Snow was falling in big, thick flakes, the kind that stick to your hair and your clothes. It was dark, so you couldn’t see much, but you couldn’t help but smile, it was beautiful. “It’s so pretty.” You grinned. Joel, who was a few feet in front of you, grunted in response.

“I used to love this kind of weather when I was a kid. When the snow sticks to your sleeves you can see the shapes.” You rambled, looking straight up into the sky.

“Mhm.” Joel hummed.

The hike back to the QZ from Bill and Franks was long, but it was rewarding. Joel does it to trade for whatever guns or supplies he needs, and you go with him just to take a hot shower and eat good food. Plus, you like being with Joel. You can’t quite put your finger on when he started trusting you so much, but you were pretty sure you were the only person besides Joel who knew about Bill and Franks. Joel was your closest friend, he was your next door neighbor, and the two of you became close because of your shared love for whiskey. The secret was that you didn’t really like whiskey that much, but when he first offered, drinking with your hot older neighbor sounded like fun. You’ve let him drunkenly sleep on your couch too many times to count, and once, you slept in his bed with him. Nothing had happened, you were just so drunk that he didn’t trust you to be by yourself, and you fell asleep in his bed.

“We need to stop soon.” Joel stated, turning to look at you. His salt-and-pepper hair was mostly white now that there was snow mixed into it. “It ain’t safe to keep going in the dark like this. And we need to warm up.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “You know best, cowboy.”

He chuckled slightly at the nickname. He earned it when you first started teasing him for his Texan accent.

You passed a big white farm house out in the middle of nowhere. Joel gestured for you to follow him as he walked up the overgrown stone pathway to the house. Before he reached the front door, he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you close to his face. Not even bothering to comprehend the danger of the situation, you wanted to giggle from the butterflies you got from his hands being on you.

“You stay close to me. And keep your mouth shut until I say so, chatterbox.” he spoke slowly, still gripping your shoulder.

“Yes sir.” You whispered back.

You pulled your gun out of your waistline and secured it in your hands as Joel pushed the front door open. It was still cold inside, but a good change from the wind and snow that was outside. Joel's footsteps echoed through the old house as he walked. There were no signs of danger on the first floor, so Joel instructed you to stay put and “don’t do anything stupid” while he checked the upstairs. You wandered around the living room until you heard Joel call from up the stairs that it was all clear.

Relieved, you trotted up the stairs to see more of the house. Joel met you in the hallway. “There's a bed up here. It’s nice, I tested it.” He chuckled. You nodded in response, waiting for him to show you where it was. He cleared his throat. “It would uh… It would probably be best if we slept in the same bed. For heat. ‘Cause the house is cold.”

You smiled. “Okay.” It was awkwardly quiet again. “I hope you don’t snore.”

Joel shook his head, half smiling, as he turned around to walk into the bedroom. The room was dusty and just as cold as the others, but it’ll do just fine.

Dead tired, you removed your backpack and large winter coat and sighed as you collapsed into the bed. There was a thin sheet on top, but you weren't even sure you wanted to get underneath it. Definitely some bugs in there.

Joel messed around with his backpack for a few minutes before getting in bed next to you. You were so tired that you were hardly even awake when he did. Within minutes, you were asleep.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for when you were awakened by Joel talking. “What?” you groaned. No response. It was still dark out, so it was definitely still the middle of the night.

“We’re not sick.” Joel said, louder than he would need to if he was talking to you. Your heart dropped and you looked around the room, but there was no one. Eyes adjusting to the dark, you looked over at Joel, and his eyes were closed.

Oh. He’s sleeping.

You giggled to yourself and tried to get comfortable again, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.

“We’re not sick!” Joel practically shouted this time. Your eyes shot open again.

He rolled over onto his side. “No.. no, no, no no no.” He spoke again. Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to face him.

“Sarah? Sarah.” He said.

Your heart dropped. He had only mentioned Sarah a couple of times to you. He didn’t go into much detail about it, but you knew that she had passed a while ago. Going with your first instinct, you decided to wake him up.

“Joel.” You said, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. “Joel.” You said louder.

He gasped when his eyes shot open, quickly reaching out to grab you by your forearms tightly.

“Joel.” You whispered softly. “Joel it’s me.”

“Oh my god.” He breathed. “I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think you were having a nightmare.” You could feel his heavy breathing while he still held onto your arms, almost like he was scared.

He stared at you for a moment. “Yeah… yeah I was.” He took a deep breath. “I get those a lot. Sorry.”

“No, no it’s okay.” You said softly. It was silent as the two of you looked at eachother. Your faces were close, both of you laying on your sides. Joel was still holding onto your forearms, almost pulling you towards him. “I do too.” you admitted.

There was some type of hurt behind his eyes when you said that. A hurt that came from knowing someone else in the world experienced pain the way that he did. Joel knew about your family and what had happened to them at the beginning of the breakout.

The frigid air moved between the two of you, and you quietly hoped that Joel wouldn’t let go. In a strange, middle of the night daze, you felt more confident than usual. So, when his grip loosened, but he was still holding onto you as he settled back into the bed, you let words fall out of your mouth.

“I feel so safe with you, Joel.” You spoke. It was the truth.

He blinked and finally let go of your arm, but his hand slid up over your shoulder and to the side of your neck. Despite the cold air circulating in the house, you closed your eyes at the warmth on your neck from his hand. He moved his hand back to thread his fingers through the hair on the back of your head.

He didn’t want to say it, but that was the biggest compliment you could have given him. That’s truly all he wants, is for you to feel safe.

“The way I feel about you…” He spoke quietly “it scares me.”

That's all he really needs to say. You understand.

Slowly, but all at once, he pulled you with the hand on the back of your head towards him. Your freezing cold lips met his warm ones. It was slow. Really slow. Your lips sat still at first, reveling in the feeling of kissing someone for the first time in so long, let alone kissing Joel. Eventually, at a glacial pace, you started moving your lips. It was sloppy, seeing as neither of you get very much practice, but it seemed to just work between the two of you. You held onto his forearm, needing to steady yourself even though you were laying down.

Your mind was a scramble of a million thoughts fighting for the forefront of your mind. You had lots to think about, but you couldn’t, not with the way he was holding you. The pace began to quicken, the rhythm was still sloppy. You felt his tongue on yours, delicately, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. From there, it began to get a bit feral. Your teeth began to clank together until it was passionate.

When you moved your hand to his back, you grazed your fingertips down his spine. He sighed into your mouth, and his hand that was once on the back of your head moved down your side to your hips. You could tell he was at a crossroad of lightly trying to pull you closer, but not wanting to move too quickly. So, you figured you’d make that choice for him. You rolled on top of him, your legs adjusted on each side of his hips. Your hair fell in his face, so his hands came back up to brush your hair back and hold the sides of your head.

Your face felt hot and your mind felt hazy. You were just a teenager when the breakout started, so you had your fair share of makeout sessions, and from what you could remember, they were weird and uncomfortable and you spent the whole time waiting for it to be over. But this is different. This is Joel.

Your hands rested on his chest and his ran down your back and over your ass, coming to rest on your upper thigh. “Joel.” You breathed into his mouth. He wasn’t necessarily doing anything to get you to moan like that, but you couldn’t help it.

His name in your mouth in that manner did things to him. His hands came back up to your ass and gripped it. You move your hips forward and he groaned. “Y/N” he said.

He used his hands on your ass to guide your hips up and down over him, you could feel his hard cock rubbing against you. You can’t remember the last time you were this wet, all of the times you had touched yourself back at home thinking about him just didn’t compare to the real thing.

You gripped his shirt in your fists, getting into your own rhythm of moving your hips. Light whimpers left your mouth, they grew closer together in sequence when Joel’s hands slid up your shirt, his calloused palms scratching your back. They slid all the way up to your shoulder blades, lifting your shirt up in the process.

As he gripped the back of your shirt into his fists, the kiss got slow again. He realized that as much as he wanted you, he wanted to take his time with you. As things slowed down, you sat up, sitting fully on him, to lift your shirt over your head and take it off. He gripped your hips as you did this, his eyes growing a little bit wider when you were left in just your bra. He wanted to say something, anything at all, but he was a bit too overwhelmed. “You’re beautiful.” was all his mouth could put together.

Now that your shirt was off, he sat up to meet your lips. The position you were in now gave you a lot more momentum when you ground your hips into him, making it harder and harder for Joel to stay gentle with you. You started working on undoing the buttons on his shirt, which was hard to do in the dark with your eyes closed. When he finally slipped the shirt off of his shoulders, he flipped you over onto your back. You wrapped your legs around him as he unbuttoned your pants.

Slowly losing the gentle nature he always seems to have with you, Joel ripped your pants and your underwear down your legs. He splayed his large hand across your inner thigh to open your legs for him. “Jesus christ.” he whispered when he finally touched your pussy. He barely grazed his middle finger up your slit and you writhed underneath him. He looked you in the eyes and used his other hand to grab your jaw, forcing you to look back at him. “Sit still.” He commanded.

You nodded. His hand still gripping your jaw, he kissed you. His fingers weren’t going inside you, they were still just delicately tracing up and down your pussy. “Joel, please.” You whined into his mouth. He put two fingers inside of you and you groaned.

His fingers were covered in you as they moved in and out of you. You tried your best to kiss him back, but it was getting harder and harder to keep your mind operating. Luckily, his lips moved down to your jaw, leaving sloppy kisses until he got to your ear. He bit your earlobe then moved down to your neck. Soon enough, he was kissing down your chest and stopped halfway to take your bra off. He adjusted himself on the bed so his head was in between your legs. He licked up and down one of your thighs, making you buck your hips upward.

“Hey.” He scolded, arms wrapped around your thighs. “What did I say about sittin’ still?”

You nodded. “Sorry.” You mustered. He flattened his tongue against you, licking a stripe up your pussy. You cried out, throwing your head back onto the dirty mattress. Even though his mouth was all over your pussy, his eyes were on your face. He stared up at you, watching every single reaction you had. When he started using his fingers, curling them upwards inside of you while his mouth sucked on your clit, you tried to put words together. “Joel. Oh m-m-” You stuttered. “Oh my god. Don’t stop.”

“Let me hear you, baby.” He said against your clit, you could feel the rumble of his words through your stomach. His mustache was scratching you in a beautiful way. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked, almost sweetly, and you could swear that his texan accent was thicker than usual.

“Yeah.” You mewled, nodding. He kept the same pace as you started to writhe again, unable to sit still any longer.

“That’s it. Come on baby, that’s it.” He growled. Your back arched so high off the bed you almost lifted your head with it. You came on him, not even sure if you were making noise or if your mouth was just open.

“Good girl.” he said, pressing one last kiss to your pussy. When he came back up to kiss you, his mustache was covered in your slick and he tasted like you. You grabbed at his belt buckle, your hands shaking from the intense orgasm you just experienced. You fumbled with it, but soon enough, he chuckled and undid it himself. The belt hit the floor and his jeans soon followed. You tried to roll over on top of him, palming him through his boxers. “Not so fast, doll.”

“I want to return the favor.” You smiled sweetly.

“As much as I wanna be in your mouth , I need to fuck you. Now.” He spat.

“Another time.” You nodded.

“Soon, baby. I promise.” Despite the already vulnerable position you were in, you blushed at your newfound nickname. He pulled his boxers down and you tried to not look intimidated by the size of his dick. He lined up to your entrance, one hand on his dick and one hand next to your head propping himself up. He looked back up at you for one last confirmation that you really wanted this. He didn’t know that you thought about this almost every night. To be fair, you didn’t know how many times he had fucked his own hand with your name on his lips.

You nodded, but he didn’t move. “Please.” You whimpered.

“Beg.” He demanded, his already stone cold eyes were blown with lust.

“Please, Joel. Please, please please please. I need you so bad. I want you, I always have. Please.” You could cry you wanted it so bad.

He pushed into you, throwing his own head back. “Fuck.”

You screwed your eyes shut as he stretched you. He literally had to go slow so he could fit. He had made it about halfway in when you arched your back into him, crying, “You’re so big Joel.” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Take it.” He said inches from your face. Trying to numb the burn you got from him stretching you out, you kissed him. His tongue was against yours when he bottomed out. He truly was restraining himself, believe it or not. If he had it his way, he would be fucking into you by now. But, he was being nice, so he let you adjust for a moment before pulling out and pushing back into you. Arms still around his neck, you moaned his name into his mouth.

Unable to take it anymore, he started pounding into you. You saw stars as he buried his face into your neck, grunting with each thrust. “How often have you thought about this?” He spoke into your ear.

“So many times. All the fucking time.” You breathlessly spoke.

“Yeah?” He asked pulling back to hover over you, arms on each side of your head propping you up.

“Yeah.” You confirmed. He grabbed your jaw and slipped his thumb into your mouth. You bit it softly and let it slide further into your mouth. He watched intently, still keeping his insane pace of fucking you. When he pulled his thumb out, he pulled down your bottom lip and pulled on the bottom of your jaw to open your mouth further. Still hovering over you, he spit into your mouth. He couldn’t help but groan at the absolutely pornographic moan you let out.

“You close?” He asked. His hips were now slapping against your own, each time he thrust he would pull his length almost fully out of you, leaving only the head in, then slam back into you.

You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t even remember your own name. A nod was the best you could do.

Joel had to admit, he was having trouble not finishing himself. Nobody is having that much sex in the QZ, so he didn’t get the most practice ever. He definitely thought he wasn’t as good as he once was, but he was doing better than he would’ve thought. Just the sight of you, his sweet, gentle, absolute doll of a neighbor, splayed out for him was probably enough to make him cum anyway.

You came harder than you did the first time, clenching around him, your arms going limp over his shoulders. “That’s it. That’s my girl.” When Joel was sure you had successfully rode through your orgasm, he sat up and pulled out, making both of you wince. He grabbed your hips, and in one motion, flipped you onto your stomach. Unable to help himself, he slapped your ass, earning a fucked-out moan from your swollen lips. He reached underneath your stomach and lifted you up so you were on your knees, then put his hand between your shoulder blades to push your face down against the mattress.

“I don’t even want to tell you how many times I’ve thought about taking you like this.” He said, pushing himself back into you. His thrusts were impossibly harder than they were last time, but they were sloppier this time. “I felt disgusting for thinking about you like that. My sweet little neighbor, this fucked-out for me? I couldn’t even imagine you being this good for me.”

You were unable to reply, your cheek kept pressed against the mattress by Joel's hand on your back. Everytime he thrust, he pulled your hips back to meet him. You could hear him panting through gritted teeth as his thrusts got even sloppier, his pace finally dismantled. By the time he came inside of you, he was letting out full on moans. His pace slowed and he leaned forward to prop himself up on his hand. “Fuck.” He mumbled.

He pulled out, his cum starting to leak out of you. You rolled onto your back, eyes closed and out of breath. “You okay?” Joel asked, laying down next to you.

A smile spread across your face, making Joel smile himself. You nodded, still breathless. His large hand laid on your stomach. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

Finally catching your breath, you looked at him, that bright smile never leaving your lips. Sweat covered your hair, but you started to feel the frigid cold air again. Concern played behind his eyes, for some reason he didn’t know how you were going to act now that it was all over. You reached for his shoulder and pulled him down onto you. He let out a sigh of relief. A soft kiss was pressed to your hairline as he wrapped his arms around you.

In a rare occurrence, you woke up before he did the next morning. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, your face buried in his chest. Clothes had to be put back on last night, the cold was too intense. Breathing in the fabric of his shirt, you relished in the feeling you had longed for for so long.

It was barely light out, and while you would like to stay in this exact position for the rest of your life, you knew you had to get moving. You rolled away from him, causing him to stir while you stretched your arms in the air. His eyes opened and were immediately on you. A sweet smile rested on your lips while he looked at you. “Mornin’.” He mumbled.

A bit of awkwardness hung in the air between the two of you. Neither of you were sure if it was okay to cuddle or kiss or do anything along those lines. The same awkwardness was present when both of you started to pack your things, and it remained long after you had left the house to go back to QZ.

There was small talk about the weather, the hike, the time, and Bill and Frank. When it was particularly quiet for a while, Joel looked over at you. Looking back at him, you smiled instinctively. “What?” You asked, his gaze was suffocating, an unusual warmth was sparkling in his eyes.

He shook his head. “Just thinkin’.”

You nodded and smiled at the ground. “Me too.”

When you finally got back to the QZ, you both trudged silently up the stairs to your respective apartments. When you reached his door, which came first, he stopped and turned around. “Would you wanna sleep here tonight?” He blurted out.

You smiled. “Yes. I would.”

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us imagine #tlou imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine

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specialagentlokitty · 2 years ago

Text

John x reader - forgiveness

Could you, please, do a platonic one for Sherlock where the reader and John gets into an argument and the reader storms off during a bad storm and John is trying not to admit he’s worried. I’d like it to have a happy ending if possible - @fictionmindset💜

You had been reading quietly on the chair when John came storming in and you looked up, setting your book on the floor.

“What’s up?”

“Did you know?!” He yelled.

You rose a brow and sat up, crossing your legs as you looked at him confused.

“Know what?”

“About Sherlock! That he wasn’t dead!”

You sighed and slowly nodded your head.

“Yes, I knew. I helped him plan it all out.”

John started shouting, and you got up, trying to calm him down, trying to get him to listening but it wasn’t working.

“John! Just listen! Let me explain!” You yelled back.

“Explain what?! I lied to me!”

“I didn’t lie to you John!”

You carried on shouting, doing anything in order to try and get his attention.

“I trusted you! I grieved to you (Y/N) and you didn’t think to tell me Sherlock was alive?!”

“Because I didn’t have a choice!” You snapped.

“I can’t even begin to comprehend how you could think it was okay to keep this hidden!”

John carried on shouting at you, telling you how you had betrayed his trust and he didn’t understand how he could even be friends with you.

You had enough of being shouted at and not being able to give your explanation to him, so you walked over to the coat rack and grabbed your jackets pulling it on.

John was still pacing and shouting and he didn’t notice you had walked out into the stormy streets.

Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you listened to the sound of the dull rumble in the background of the city noise.

Sighing, you started to walk with no real destination in your mind.

John didn’t even notice you were gone, but he stopped his rambling when Sherlock came in.

“Why are you talking to yourself?”

“What? I’m talking to (Y/N).”

John turned around, and that’s when he noticed you, your shoes and your jacket were all gone.

Thunder tumbled above the building, so loud it nearly drowned out all his thoughts and doubts about coming and shouting at you.

John blinked a few times.

“They were just here…” he mumbled.

John walked to the window and looked out, wondering if maybe you had just gone to the shop or something.

There was no one on the streets, the lightening lit up the world and rain poured down like there was no tomorrow.

John frowned, looking to Sherlock as he sat on his chair, looking at the laptop in front of him.

“Sherlock did you see (Y/N) on your way in?”

“No. They’ve probably gone to see Lestrade, they go there to get away for bit.”

John nodded his head and grabbed his phone, walking to the kitchen he tried to call you but your phone rang from inside the flat.

Sighing he put his phone and started to pull his jacket on.

“You can’t leave, Mrs Hudson said not to open the door because of the wind and rain.”

“Well I need to go home.”

“You’re going to look for (Y/N). They’ll come home soon.”

“No I’m not, Mary is waiting for me.”

Sherlock looked up and John sat down, turning the Tv on.

He wasn’t going to admit he was worried for you, especially not after shouting at you and refusing to let you get a single word in.

He looked at the weather alert and he was getting nervous, it wasn’t a good time to be outside, the thunder was shaking the building, lightening was none stop and the wind howled through any gap it could.

Sherlock played his violin for a bit, did a small experiment and wondered away down to talk to Mrs Hudson.

John laid across his chair, exhaustion taking over as he fell asleep.

What woke him up was the sound of someone trying to quietly close the door and a coat being hung up.

John sat up, looking at his watch before looking over to where you were stood, trying not to trek whatever.

“Bloody hell.”

John got up and grabbed you a few towels, getting you to sit in his chair he made you a cup of tea and sat it down next to you.

You were shivering and he frowned a little.

“Hold on.”

John walked into Sherlocks room, trying not to disturb the man who’s as lost in his own head staring at the wall.

Grabbing a blanket, John walked back into the living room and draped it over your shoulders.

“You gonna shout at me again?” You snapped lightly.

John sighed and shook his head.

“No.. no I’m sorry.”

John quickly checked you over, making sure you didn’t catch a fever from being in the cold and make sure nothing had fallen on you and hurt you.

John nodded and sat back, apologising for how he has behaved.

“It’s fine John.”

“It’s not, okay? You’re my best friend (Y/N) I just… why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“It wasn’t my place, I couldn’t. I’m so sorry…”

John gave you a small smile and leant forward, pulled the blanket around you a little bit more.

“Next time don’t go running into the rain though.”

“Fine, fine.” You laughed.

You gestured to the laptop and grinned at him.

“Film?”

“Comedy?” He asked.

You nodded and you both walked over to the sofa, setting the laptop on it so you could watch a movie.

You knew it was going to take a while for John to forgive you for hiding this from him.

But John had already forgiven you, you were his best friend at the end of the day, and he knew you would’ve had a good reason to not tell him about it

#bbc Sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x you #John Watson #John Watson x reader #John Watson x you #John Watson imagine

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obstinaterixatrix · 19 days ago

Text

I had what was somehow the most stressful dream of my life which then somehow turned into a gag for ai somnium. It started out with me somehow involved with the mob and having to drive for the boss or a direct superior or something and I somehow got into a fender bender or something and that was really stressful but it ended up being alright, and time passes (weeks at least) and I have to go to 1 Chapel Way (I know this address has to exist in several places in the world but it’s completely irrelevant to me) (and I *think*… it’s the dream referencing chappell roan) and it’s night time and it’s outside a forest or a temple or a park, it’s definitely in nature, and I have to move the car, and I’m so sure everything will be fine, the last accident is in the back of my mind so I’m like I Have To Be So Careful and I know I will, and then I get out of the car because something’s in the way or I have to take care of something related, and it ROLLS AWAY because it’s NOT IN PARK and I’m staring in complete shock and not comprehending the situation AT ALL but in the back of my mind I’m thinking ok ok I’ll wait for it to roll to a stop and everything will be fine, just a near miss—and then it rolls into a ditch that has some sort of wall and completely totals the front half of the car. and I’m like oooohhh shit oh my god. this can’t be happening. (it is in fact not happening) (it is a dream). and in a daze I wander off and end up wandering all night and my phone runs out of power and. at one point. there is a time-lapse sequence of a science’s museums stain glass window where multiple large microbes rotate and at a specific part of a day it all aligns perfectly to block the whole circular window but instead of being colorful everything went dark again. and the next sequence which I don’t know if it’s related or even in order, is someone really confused about saving yosuke persona4 and the p4 protag in his phone both as ‘leader’ and I remember explaining irately that it’s because they were both captains of a team in a game they all played together before continuing my ‘oh god I totaled the mob’s car and my boss might kill me’ walk, and then it’s early afternoon (again?) (no, I only wandered the whole night) and I’m wandering around the town my undergrad school’s at (???) and I run into a bunch of high school classmates and. one of them (robert) (we don’t particularly keep contact but we show up at the same reunions, he’s a nice dude) (sister got into taskmaster because of him I think? or just before he introduced it to more of us at his apt), who was joining by call, was like ‘I think [siri/spotify/chatgpt/???] is trying to destroy [brazil/portugal] because we decided to really double down on trying to ban it’ and the thing is I totally believed him and I was visualizing this map (or, it was on the phone and it became a visualization) of… weather. there was an artistic representation of a ship on the coast at sea in weather and there was a huge cloud that represented the ai’s interference with weather (last night I scrolled past a twitter thread of everyone dunking on some far-right conspiracy theorist saying dems controlled the weather and made the hurricanes) and I completely *believed him*, but I was like. man I can’t do anything about that right now, I have to tell the mob boss I crashed the car and accept my fate. oh fuck I’ve been wandering around in shock, what if he thinks I ran away, I’m so screwed. how am I supposed to pay back 40,000 for this car. well actually it’s probably more expensive. so then the group of high school friends offer to drop me off at the crash site (jen offers) and I’m completely zoned out in the car and when I get out I’m somewhere completely different and I’m like. hey. wait. and the driver is some older white guy taking my friends around (?) and I’m like. hey. what. and they all tell me to use my phone to look up where I need to walk from google maps and I’m like MY PHONE IS DEAD???

and then I’m making my way to the mob boss and they’re in a suit shop and I go into my tearful ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen it just did, I swear I’ll take full responsibility!!!’ but somewhere in the middle of the apology it morphs into. a scene where iris aisf is passionately exclaiming this to moma aisf and him fainting because he thinks this is iris saying she got pregnant. I’m so emotionally discombobulated. this is maybe because I watched sister play mouthwashing for 3 hours until 2am and then started thinking about ideas I *had* to sketch and actually going to sleep at like 5am still amped.

#dream diary #also it was an extremely normal car #maybe a crv or whatever

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milesdadworth · 2 years ago

Note

100 words or less where one character is missing a shoe

anon...listen. i know you said 100 words or less, but I am physically incapable of keeping anything short, and since the prompts are for me to pad out my nano word count how about we call this 1000 words or less ;D

Phoenix entered the Prosecutor’s Office and made his way to the elevator, and punched in the number correlating to the Chief Prosecutor’s office. He adjusted the grip on his to-go coffee cups, one of them a simple latte for himself and the other—a caramel macchiato with soy milk and an extra shot of espresso. The dreary weather outside provided the perfect excuse to surprise his husband with a mid-week work visit.

Perhaps he could get some information on the prosecution’s argument for tomorrow’s case to help Athena out with her investigation.

As the elevators opened, he stepped out before spotting Kay Faraday bolting down the hallway.

“Hi, Kay,” Phoenix greeted. He didn’t remember Miles saying she’d be in town this week.

“Hi, Mr. Nick!” Kay called as she grinned and launched herself into the closing elevator. “Bye, Mr. Nick!”

“Bye, Kay,” Phoenix bid her goodbye as the elevator closed behind him. He laughed to himself, heading down the hallway, making a mental note to ask Miles what would be a good night to have dinner with her and the rest of their family.

Precariously balancing one of the cups between his chest and arm, he gently knocked before opening the door to the office.

He assumed Miles would be sitting behind his desk, so his brain couldn’t comprehend the scene of his husband on his hands and knees looking behind his desk.

“Miles?” Phoenix chuckled as he stepped forward, setting Miles’s coffee down on his desk, carefully avoiding the documents scattered about. He startled, quickly raising his head and hitting it on the underside of his desk. “Whatcha doin’ down there?” Phoenix said in a sing-song voice before taking a sip of his own latte.

“Phoenix,” Miles huffed, pulling himself to his feet. “You startled me. What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a man bring his husband some coffee without a specific reason?” Phoenix asked, raising an eyebrow, sipping at his own cup again. Miles gave an exhausted sigh before reaching out and grabbing the cup that Phoenix had set down on his desk. After his first sip, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a bit.

“Thank you,” Miles muttered, setting the cup down again.

“May I ask what you were doing down there?” Phoenix asked.

“I would dissuade you from asking, but you’re going to figure it out eventually,” Miles groaned. Instead of explaining any further, he came around the desk, standing before Phoenix, wearing only one of his shoes. The other foot was bare, save for a Steel Samurai sock that was mismatched to his other plain grey sock.

“I didn’t know the Prosecutor’s office had gone so casual that you have barefoot Wednesdays,” Phoenix remarked with a chuckle.

“I’m not barefoot—! Anyway, I seem to have…erm…misplaced one of my shoes,” Miles said, looking away as his face flushed.

“You misplaced—?! How do you misplace one shoe, especially when you typically keep them on your feet all day.”

“It’s foolish, but…I had to step outside for a moment to speak with one of Gumshoe’s detectives. There was a relatively large piece of evidence brought over via a patrol car…anyway, I accidentally stepped in a deep puddle as I stepped off the curb, which drenched both my shoe and sock. When I got back inside, I took the shoe off, and set it aside to dry while I went to replace my socks with the spare pair I keep here. I just turned around to deal with my soaked shoe and…and it was gone. I was worried I had kicked it under my desk unintentionally or something…”

“Weird,” Phoenix frowned. “It’s not like you to misplace something like that.”

Something suddenly clicked in his mind, remembering who he had run into on his way in. It wouldn’t be so outlandish that this was her doing.

Kay Faraday had mostly given up the ‘Great Thief’ persona in favor of a more practical private investigator, but she still had a mischievous streak in her, a mile wide.

Once a Great Thief, always a Great Thief! Phoenix seemed to recall her saying at one point. Suddenly, he knew exactly where his missing shoe was.

“Do you need me to run home and get you another pair of shoes to come home in?” Phoenix offered.

“I don’t mean to inconvenience you. If I need to, I’ll send Gumshoe to fetch something for me,” Miles said, waving off his offer.

“Oh, so you’ll inconvenience the poor Senior Detective during work hours, but you won’t let your husband take care of you?” Phoenix pouted.

“Are you not also here during working hours?” Miles sighed.

“Ah, Apollo’s keeping an eye on things at the office,” Phoenix explained with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ll give Gumshoe a heads up that he might be on errand duty later this afternoon. Or perhaps he can help you find your shoe. He’s not a senior detective for nothing, you know.”

Miles looked utterly exasperated at the idea of having to ask Detective Gumshoe for assistance in finding his missing shoe.

Phoenix smirked, hoping that Gumshoe had already run into Kay, who was probably eager to boast about her successful footwear heist to ‘Gummy.’

“Good luck with your shoe conundrum, love,” Phoenix said, leaning in to kiss his husband’s cheek. Miles tilted his head into the peck and sighed.

“Thank you,” Miles said in a defeated tone. “And thank you for the coffee, dear. It definitely made this trainwreck of a day a little bit better.”

#THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT!!!!!! IT HELPED UNSTICK MY BRAIN SO MUCH #pls everyone feel free to continue to send them in this is def helping #i still have the other prompt in my ask box that I've started on but this one seized me violently #maybe i'll polish this up and put it on ao3 #i need to get into better habits of posting littler things there instead of just long ass incomplete WIPs #kat writes #wrightworth #narumitsu

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bestworstcase · 2 years ago

Note

"so there’s like. gift of the moon is both an erasure of dark and a story that makes him synonymous with humanity" -> it's funny how in the two brothers it's dark who wants to reclaim their power and wipe "this experiment"—a word light used in the lost fable to describe the world—from existence while light offers an option to take humanity's form and walk amongst them as equals if they prove themselves worthy—which he absolutely did not do lmao. like. yeah it's a fairy tale but ngl sounds like someone is doing some pr moves 🤔

also makes me really wonder what dark's endgame is going to be...

reading the two brothers always cracks me up for how appallingly bad ozma is at religious propaganda. this is the wise benevolent god of light whose example we should follow, he got pissy when his brother created [checks notes] tides, weather, biodiversity, and plate tectonics. brother light needs a new PR agent

anyway. what i’ve been noodling on a lot is that… like, the metaphysical philosophy pyrrha shares in v1 describes the soul as self-identity, and the ability to understand both light and darkness. and that’s… that’s dark’s gift. in the two brothers he gives humans “knowledge of themselves and their world […] so they can comprehend life and death” and then the god of light adds free will on top of that foundation (“the power to decide what to do with that knowledge”).

and that has some interesting implications re: the god of light’s disdain for humanity and his approach to immortalizing his chosen one being a never-ending cycle of destruction of identities, both the hosts whose individuality is gradually eroded away and ozma’s sense of self being ground into dust by the inescapable trauma of existing as a spiritual parasite. but it’s also really interesting for what it says about the god of darkness, that he, not his brother, is the one who created the human soul.

(it also potentially has some implications about the grimm—just because humans believe they’re mindless doesn’t mean they actually are, and the god who gave humans sapience is also the god who made grimm.)

and then, like.

light thought of humans as an experiment and treats them accordingly. but in the two brothers, dark agrees to do it because he’s bored and he likes the idea of making something that can “think and communicate like [them]” because “they won’t be as predictable” as everything else the brothers had already made, and once they exist light is “overprotective” and “underestimates” humans while dark delights in their resilience and resourcefulness. similarly, his response to salem before his brother intervenes make it clear that he wants humans to come to him with their problems and he is willing and able to make emotional connections with them, to see his own loneliness reflected in salem’s grief and answer it with kindness because it pleases him to do so. and when he turned on her it was bc his brother convinced him that she lied, that it wasn’t real and she only approached him as a thing to use.

the god of light wanted to rule, wanted humans to see him as an absolute authority and obey without question. (he was furious with salem for accepting that he said no and turning to another god instead. which is just. how polytheistic religions work lmfao) but the god of darkness wanted to be worshipped, in the reciprocal do ut des sense, and treated salem accordingly.

i figure that’s going to be the critical difference in the end. dark isn’t… good, by any stretch, but he does understand the essence of human nature a lot better than his brother (because he’s the one who gave it to them!) and he demonstrably wants people to engage with him the way salem did when she petitioned him originally. he’s not on the same page as his brother vis-a-vis humanity, and if light is banking on him pulling the trigger again… well. i can’t imagine dark has gotten any less resentful or jealous of his brother in the hundreds millions of years since they left remnant, and i also can’t imagine that a god capable of empathizing with a single human’s grief through his own loneliness wouldn’t also be able to see himself and his resentment in humankind’s struggle before the “obey or die” ultimatum light gave them.

#divide and conquer!!

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cipherwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Sugar & Spice, Chapter 4: Evillustrator

<- Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (WIP)

And then, Stormy Weather is blown away by her own parasol turned against her, and the great Mightyllustrator saves the damsel in distress!

“Oh, Mightyllustrator, you’re my hero!” the Damsel cries out.

“Heh, it was nothing.” the hero responds nonchalantly.

“I love you, Mightyllustrator!”

“I love you too, Marinette

Nathaniel Kurtzberg, a red-haired student of Francoise Dupont Lycee, sighs as he crosses out a number of things in his comic.

Wrong, wrong, it’s all wrong! No matter how much I try to envision it or dream it up, I can’t come up with a good story. Besides, it’s not like I’d ever get a real chance to rescue Marinette like this… The young artist thinks to himself, mentally comparing his damsel figure to the similarly shy but determined target of his affected, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Nathaniel only met Marinette last year, but in the short time he’s known her, he’s known her to be a kind and charitable girl who’s been relentlessly targeted by Chloe Bourgeois for, according to his classmates, three years now. He doesn’t know why it started, and frankly, he doesn’t care. All he knows is that Marinette is a sweet, caring soul who doesn’t deserve the bull-

“Nathaniel!” a ruler slams into his desk, and the meek redhead jumps at the sight of Mme. Mendeleiev, the purple-haired science teacher. “What are you drawing?” she asks with a cruel snarl on her face, clearly annoyed that this has had to interrupt her lesson, and he gulps nervously.

“Wa, well, it’s, erm…” the young man stammers.

“These artistic endeavors of yours are clearly why you are failing science,” she says. “You have been given the option to join the art program before, but your continued ignorance of this opportunity has not gone unnoticed. March down to the principal’s office and tell him just why you’ve been doing so poorly in my class!” she orders, and the redhead gulps.

“Yes, ma’am…” he says softly and gets up, tripping over a bag and gasps, landing on the floor, his sketchbook landing open on the ground. He reaches for it, but it’s snatched up by Chloe.

“Ooh! Look, Sabrina! It's him as a superhero! And look who he's saving! It's Dupain-Cheng!” She teases.

“It’s who?!” Marinette exclaims with a blush, and several other classmates join the confusion, most of which Adrien. Which, frankly, Nathaniel can understand- that short display of anger Marinette showed him on the first day of school only impressed Nathaniel further.

“He’s totally crushing on you, you know.” Chloe taunts Marinette.

“Doesn’t seem like much of your business,” Alya retorts, defending her best friend.

“Gimme that!” Nathaniel snatches his book away from Chloe, blushing deeply.

“Enough! Nathaniel, go!” Mme. Mendeleiev states, clearly sick and tired of the interruptions to her lesson. “No more gossiping, or you’ll all be joining him in the office!”

Nathaniel rushes out of the room, not even meeting Marinette’s gaze as he does so. Lost in thought and despair, Nathaniel’s eyes wander as he moves towards the office on autopilot.

Chloe. She ruins everything! She’s devoted to ruining Marinette’s life, and she humiliates and degrades everyone around her for no good reason other than the fact that she can. She’s evil- the kind of evil that Marinette needs to be saved from.

Nathaniel stumbles just a bit as he walks, and his pen falls to the ground. He picks it up, his body moving automatically as a purple butterfly enters the pen. Nathaniel could hardly comprehend what was happening before a voice entered his mind, commanding and omnipotent through his thoughts as the helpless boy’s anger turned to an uncontrollable hatred and rage against his will.

“Are you tired of having your spirit crushed? Evillustrator, I am Hawkmoth, your friend and patron of the arts. I’m here to offer you support…but I don’t give this kind of power for free. I have a couple of items that need retrieving.”

“Name the price, and it’s yours,” Nathaniel says with contempt, transforming into Evillustrator in the darkness of the halls, leaping to the rafters to hide and wait for his prey to emerge.

---

Nathaniel? Crushing on me? I don’t even know him that well! Marinette thinks to herself.

He’s so sweet, though! He didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that, even if I don’t feel the same way.

I should talk to him, though. I’ll catch him after class.

“The next particle physics presentation group is Nino, Adrien, and Alya!” Mendeleiev announces, insistent on not letting students pick their own groups. Luckily, her loud tendencies snapped Marinette out of her thoughts.

Wow, lucky. Marinette thinks to herself, remembering that it seems like Adrien is as intelligent as he is pretty…or at least, he’s pretty good at recalling information.

“And then Sabrina, Chloé and Marinette.” Mendeleiev states and Marinette feels her heart drop.

“Oof…unlucky.” Alya cringes.

Marinette looks over at Chloe, who has a malicious grin on her perfect little face.

No no no no no no no no-

“Mademoiselle!” Marinette suddenly stands up, fear evident and spiking. “C-can I work alone, please?”

“This is a group presentation, Marinette,” Mendeleiev states. “It’s a policy of mine not to give any of my students unfair advantages or disadvantages. You’ll have to deal with it.”

“Are you gonna be okay, Marinette?” Alya asks as the bluenette slumps back into her chair.

“I…I’ll be fine, Alya!” Marinette says with a smile. “Better than fine! Don’t worry about me!”

---

Marinette stands beside Sabrina as Chloe goes through her locker with a smug look on her face.

“Forget it! I don’t have time for some dumb project. I’m sure you two can handle it on your own. You’re still nice and efficient when you put your mind to something, aren’t you, Marinette?” Chloe grins, her voice like a toxin in Marinette’s ears.

“That’s fine, Chloe!” Sabrina says. “We can do all the work, don’t worry!”

It would be easy to let this happen. To have a few days of peace while I do everything she said.

“It’ll be just like old times,” Sabrina says.

I…I don’t want to go back to old times.

“No,” Marinette says, determined.

“What was that?” Chloe glares her way.

“I said no. Those bridges have long been burned by both of us. I’m not going back to how things were!” Marinette starts to yell, and Chloe takes a step back, as if surprised by the determination that now shines in Marinette’s eyes.

“Oh, it’ll be okay, Marinette!” Sabrina says, trying to defuse the tension. “It’s all equal! I do the research, you do the writing, and Chloe presents it! That way, it’s equal.” she explains. “Chloe and I have been doing this for years, you remember!”

“I remember plenty,” Marinette says coldly. “I remember,” she turns to Chloe, “that you’re too thick to do anything yourself, so you throw your money and influence at whatever useful people you see, taking advantage of the most talented people you can find and assume they’ll stick with you just because they’re afraid of you!” She grits her teeth. “Just because they care for you. That’s not how friends work.”

“Not only am I Sabrina’s best friend,” Chloe stomps her foot, “I’m her only friend. Because when I find someone and make them mine, they are nothing without me.”

“Well, maybe some people would rather be nothing than have you!” Marinette shouts, and Chloe looks taken aback and shocked by the statement. Guilt immediately pangs Marinette.

Maybe I went too far…

“Chloe, I-”

“Whatever!” Chloe flips her hair, walking past Marinette and Sabrina. “I’ve got more important things to worry about. My hair is a hot mess and Jean Claude promised to work his magic. Later!” she slams the door and storms off, leaving Marinette and Sabrina behind.

“...fuck.” Marinette leans against the locker and falls to her knees, hands at her face to try and keep the tears from coming. “What happened to us…?”

“Marinette…are you okay?” Sabrina asks, and Marinette turns her head away. “I…thank you. I’ve never seen you stand up to anyone like that before, and…you did it for me.” she holds out her hand to Marinette. “Chloe will cool down, I promise. She just has to think…maybe you’ve finally given her something to think about.” Sabrina gives a pained smile.

Marinette looks up and takes Sabrina’s hand, letting her help her get up.

I hope so.

---

Watching from the rafters of a library, three girls enter- first two, then another, and they begin to argue. He only cares for one of them. He only hates another. He grins wide as he prepares his tablet and begins to draw…

“Ugh! What do you mean, you’re not doing my assignment?!” Chloe exclaims, scowling at Marinette and Sabrina.

“I-I’m not your slave, Chloe! Marinette’s right, you haven’t been treating me like a friend!” Sabrina defends herself.

“Well, Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t buy you a super cute beret at Gabriel, and I did!” Chloe boasts, holding up a new beret she clearly had delivered to the school after she stormed out.

Marinette visibly seethes in her chair.

“It…it is a cute hat…” Sabrina says, seeing Chloe holding up the hat. “And it would look good on me…” she mumbles.

“I won’t pretend to have any excuses.” Chloe huffs. “But you, Dupain-Cheng, are trying to steal my friend from me, with homework!” Chloe declares pompously.

You wanna bribe, Chloe? Let’s give you plenty to work with.

Suddenly, from above, a pile of berets falls on the rich girl!

“AGH! My hair!” Chloe complains.

From the ether, a massive hairdryer materializes and starts tormenting Chloe, who begins to scream in fear and run away.

---

“Er…was that an akuma?” Sabrina asks.

“Or the byproduct of one.” Marinette surmises.

Okay, I’ve planned for this: make distance from civilians and transform.

“Let’s split up!” Marinette tells Sabrina. “It’ll be easier to dodge it that way. You can meet me at my house, it’s not far from here- you remember where the bakery is, right?”

“Um…y-yeah!” Sabrina nods.

“Good, go!” Marinette orders, and she and Sabrina take off in different directions. If we’re lucky, Chat Noir and I will have this akuma handled by the time I make it home.

She hides between some of the scarcely used shelves and grins. “Tikki, Spots On!”

From the shelves, Ladybug emerges and pins the hairdryer to a bookshelf. “Hide, now!” she orders, and Chloe runs away.

“I’ve gotten wind that you were being blown away by a hairy situation!” she hears a familiar voice quip, and Ladybug rolls her eyes at her partner’s humor.

“Less punning and more action, Chat Noir!” she leaps up and lands beside him. “It’s not a real akuma, just some kinda byproduct. Made by it, or something.”

“Well, then I don’t have to feel bad about doing this! Cataclysm!” He declares, and lunging for the hairdryer, it disintegrates into dust, and they all hear an exclamation of pain- a backlash for destroying something an akuma controls.

Looking up, they see some kind of feedback coming from the arm tablet of a purple man in a beret and awfully odd clothes.

“Well, that guy looks pretty sketchy!” Chat quips.

The two chase the akuma, but he gets away by creating a wall.

“He got away…most akumas we’ve faced have run to get a better vantage point, but that’s only after trying to fight us.” Ladybug murmurs. “Where could he be going?”

“I don’t know, but he sure has a way of illustrating his point.” Chat grins, and Ladybug can’t help but wheeze out a frustrated chuckle.

“Is there some kind of punning superpower I don’t know about?” she teases her partner.

“I got more where that came from, I can do this all day!” Chat grins.

Ladybug shakes her head, her smile never leaving her face. “Alright, the akuma was targeting Chloe Bourgeois, so we should find her.”

“To the Grand Paris!” Chat Noir points dramatically in the wrong direction.

---

“Seems like the akuma’s targeting you specifically, Chloe. Any idea why?” Chat Noir asks, standing with Ladybug in Chloe’s room in the Grand Paris. Ladybug is tapping her foot impatiently- she probably has somewhere to be. She’s a busy little bee! Er, bug. That’s why they need to be so efficient; unlike Adrien, Ladybug’s civilian identity actually has a life outside the mask.

“No! Everyone adores me.” Chloe states.

“Right, 'cause you’re sooo adorable…” Ladybug mutters, and Chat holds back a laugh at his partner’s sarcasm. Unfortunately, Chloe doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Yes! Ladybug just said I'm adorable! I totally need a picture of the two of us together!” she says and forcibly takes a selfie of them both with her phone, and afterward Ladybug walks to the balcony with Chat.

“That was unpleasant…” she mumbles.

“Well, I look great, of course, but your smile is all wonky. I'll take another!” Chloe says from behind them, but Ladybug stops her.

“Not now, Chloe. I’m…camera shy,” she says as she continues onto the balcony with her partner.

“Well, someone’s got a fan.” Chat Noir teases.

“Yeah, great.” She rolls her eyes.

“Alright, what’s bugging you? No pun intended this time, either.” Chat says with a gentler smile.

“Let’s just say I can’t stand this girl, even with a mask on.” she sighs and looks at her bugphone.

Eh, that’s not really a clue. Chloe tends to leave a bad impression on most people- Ladybug could be a student at Dupont, but she could just as easily be the daughter of someone working for Chloe.

“I…I need to go.” Ladybug says hesitantly. “I have somewhere to be if I want to preserve my identity. I can probably be back in a few hours- can you protect her until then?” Ladybug asks.

“I can handle it Ladybug, no sweat! Go, go! Make an alibi.” Chat Noir insists, giving his leader a salute.

The smile Ladybug gives him as she swings away makes his heart flutter more than the little butterflies that plague Paris.

“Ahh! Ladybug! Text me!” Chloe calls after her desperately.

---

Marinette breathes deeply as she arrives home, seeing Sabrina pacing around in the main room of the bakery. She steps in, and Sabrina runs up to her.

“MarinetteIwassoworriedItriedcallingbutyouneverpickedupIwasworriedtheakumagotyou-” Sabrina begins rambling, and Marinette smiles kindly, taking Sabrina’s wrists before she can drape herself over Marinette.

“Whoa, Sabrina! Calm down. I just got a bit turned around, and my phone ran out of charge.”

And to cover my bases, I turned my phone off before stepping inside.

“So…you’re okay?” Sabrina asks.

“I’m okay. Come on, let’s go upstairs and get our project started,” she says with a kind smile.

Marinette and Sabrina don’t talk much. They divided the project into three actual equal parts, created a shared slideshow, and sent it to Chloe with a list of what she’ll need to do. While they work, they don’t talk much, even when Sabrina tries to start it. Quite honestly, Marinette doesn’t want to talk with Sabrina for too long.

If I talk with Sabrina too much, she’ll start talking about Chloe, and…and I don’t want to talk about her right now.

About 30 minutes pass, the duo making a good start on their project, and as Sabrina’s about to come up with some snacks Mari’s parents made, the girls hear what sounds like some kind of wiping- Marinette’s on her bed, Sabrina on the ladder up to the room- and Marinette’s eyes widen as her window erases, and a familiar form enters the room: the akuma.

“You-!” Marinette’s eyes widened, resisting the urge to call for Tikki immediately. “What are you doing here?” she questions, but rather than the rigid expression she saw before, the man’s expression softens to a fond look.

That’s…not the look of someone who knows I’m Ladybug.

“I-I just wanted to see you!” he insists.

Or it’s a fanboy. Then I’ve got a whole new thing to deal with.

“If that’s all you wanted, why did you attack Chloe?” Marinette questions.

“Because Chloe is vicious and cruel!” he growls, and Marinette winces a bit.

“I can’t…argue with that,” she says hesitantly. “So…what happens now? Are you going to abduct me? Attack me?”

“Never,” the young man says, which catches Marinette a little off guard. “You’re Marinette! You’re beautiful, sweet, and kind, and smart and…you’re perfect, I could never hurt you!” he expresses with a lovestruck expression.

Okay, let’s think about this. Akumas increase emotional states. A crush turned to obsession…a disdain for Chloe that likely happened today…art coming to life…

As Marinette connects the dots, it’s like a window shattering. Her eyes widen as she sees Nathaniel’s face beyond the veil of the akuma, the Quantum Mask that shrouds identity broken for her and her only, bringing with it an uncanny feeling of confusion that she ever saw anything but the boy behind the mask.

Oh, Nathaniel. What has he done to you?

“Nathaniel, what happened to you?” Marinette asks, concerned.

“My name is Evillustrator now, Marinette. It’s my birthday tonight, and I was hoping we could have a party. Just you and me, on the seine!” he offers excitedly.

“Tonight…” Marinette whispers, seeing the trapdoor opening slightly, seeing the terrified Sabrina staring at the scene like a deer in headlights.

If I let anything loose about the group project, there’s no telling who he’ll hurt to make sure he has me to himself!

“I’ll do it,” Marinette says, and Evillustrator looks ecstatic. “On one condition.”

“Of course, Marinette!” Evillustrator grins. “Anything for you!”

“You can’t hurt Chloe. Or anyone anymore. No more fighting.” She orders.

“You are a gentle soul, Marinette. For you, and you only. I’ll wait for you next to Notre Dame, at sunset!” he expresses before leaping out of the window.

Marinette waits for a beat before groaning loudly, falling facefirst onto her bed.

“What were you thinking?!” Sabrina suddenly bursts through.

“I’m thinking that this is the only way to keep people safe!” Marinette says sadly.

“Marinette, you’re brave, but isn’t this a bit much?” Sabrina asks. “I mean, er…the project! We have to finish the project, right?”

She’s reaching for anything she can to try and get me out of this. Even after everything, Sabrina is sweet and kind.

“You should go home, Sabrina,” Marinette smiles. “You know me. I can get this whole thing cranked out by tonight.”

“Marinette…” Sabrina sighs. “I’ll…I’ll get my Dad! Then we can-”

“No.” Marinette shakes her head. “The Police are useless against akumas. I don’t want anyone else to be hurt.”

“Marinette…” Sabrina whimpers, but lowers her head to acquiesce.

---

“Ohhh... Sabrina is so selfish! Making me do this project by myself?! Ugh, my brain hurts... Huh? Hey! Cat Noir, Are you any good at particle physics?” Chloe looks at the black cat, and he sighs a bit.

“Well, I’m not bad at it…” he says, trying not to share that he’s pretty good at science as a whole. Which Plagg laughs up considering how much of my life will now revolve around magic…

“Ah! Great!” Chloe says and pulls him by his arm. “Sit, kitty!” she orders and shoves project materials into his arms. “Now, make it sound purr-fect for my presentation. See what I did? I made a cat joke! Ha! I can be funny.” she states, and Chat Noir just stares at her.

“Hilarious,” he says sarcastically.

C’mon, Chloe, I’m trying to empathize with you, don’t make it so hard for me.

At that moment, his staff rings, and he drops the materials to the ground and starts to walk back out to the balcony. “Sorry, Mme., I've got a call from the Lady in Red!” he says and leans on the balcony as he answers. “You know, Ladybug, some may call it unprofessional to be catcalling during work hours.” Chat Noir teases and is met by a smirk.

“Well, what if I told you that you didn’t have to worry about Chloe anymore?” She asks.

“I’d say I’m listening. I didn’t see any magic ladybugs, so I doubt the akuma’s beaten…” Chat Noir responds.

“The akuma calls himself Evillustrator. He went to a civilian’s house and talked to her, and she answered some of my questions. Not only that, but he asked her on a date.” Ladybug explains.

“The akuma’s a lovebug? What, did Chloe diss his crush or something?” Chat asks.

“You could say that.” Ladybug sends an image, and Chat’s eyes widen. “Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Cute, huh?”

Ah. I see why Chloe was attacked now.

“M’Lady, are you trying to set me up with an akuma’s crush? Scandalous.” he teases, and he can practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“I’ve told her my basic plan, and I’ll need you to protect her tonight and fight the akuma without me. I’ll be indisposed.” She explains.

Guess that alibi’s going on longer than expected. But hold on…

“What about your Lucky Charm? Or the Miracle Cure?” He asks, worried.

“I’ve gone over it with Tikki. This is the ideal time to test out the capabilities of our powers without the Ladybug, in case something happens to me. Evillustrator is more docile than most akuma, after all, so it’ll be more of a trial by matchlight than trial by fire.” she explains.

“A fair point,” Chat nods. “What’s the plan?”

“All Miraculous weapons have a kind of…hammerspace, for lack of a better term. Only the Ladybug can use that space to purify an akuma, since I then use the energy from that akuma with my Miracle Cure to pinpoint what exactly got broken and fix it. However, you can still hide the akuma in there, and it’ll remain even if you detransform. Keep the akuma contained, and we’ll meet at the Eiffel at Midnight for me to purify the akuma.” Ladybug explains.

“What about the Lucky Charm?” Chat Noir asks.

“I left it with Marinette for you. You’ll need to figure it out from there, but I’m sure it’ll come in handy,” she explains.

Chat sighs dreamily. “You really thought of everything.” he fiddles with his bell. “And…you really think I can do this without you?” he asks.

“I believe in you, Chat Noir. Take the akuma down,” she says, and he smiles.

“I won’t let you down, M’lady!” he says, determined, hanging up as he launches off.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Chloe yells after him, but Chat just smiles as he heads for the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

---

Marinette had already told her parents about everything, and while they were terrified, Marinette assured them she’d be protected by Chat Noir, and she’d be arming herself with some pepper spray (though they insisted she also take a knife).

She looks down at the Lucky Charm in her hands- a small red tablet pen. As she turns it over in her hand, she hears an impact on the balcony above her, and she sighs. Showtime.

“Nathaniel…? Is that you…?” she wonders aloud, doing her best to sound as normal as possible, and as she heads to the balcony, she sees Chat Noir, bowing dramatically towards her (yet not making eye contact…weird).

“Good evening, young lady! The name’s Chat Noir.” he smiles wide.

“I assumed as much,” she smiles a bit and shakes his hand. “So, you’re here to protect me?”

“Yep! That birthday boy date of yours is bad news. Don’t worry, though, you’ll be safe with me!” the leather-clad hero boasts.

“That puts my mind at ease,” Marinette says, resisting the urge to tease him.

“But I may need a little help…” he says, frowning as he sees the tablet pen. “I hear you’re pretty creative. Care to assist a superhero?” he asks hopefully.

We haven’t even begun yet, and he’s already asking for help. Silly kitty.

“And what would Ladybug think of you asking another girl for help with your hero work?” she asks teasingly.

“Well, maybe you could be my Ladybug tonight.” he challenges, and the two grin at each other, before they blush a bit, as if they both realize some kind of mistake made, and turn away from each other.

“I couldn’t imagine fighting crime with the heroes of Paris. No matter how amazing it might be…” Marinette quickly dissuades.

“Yeah, erm…just get the pen from Evillustrator, and I can do the rest!” Chat Noir says.

---

Evillustrator sits on the boat of his own creation, sketching additional things for his date with Marinette. It has to be perfect, it must be perfect. She deserves nothing less.

“That is a lovely scene you’re setting.” the voice of Hawkmoth enters his mind. “But you’d best not get distracted, boy.” He threatens.

“I just want Marinette to love me…” he responds, and he feels a pang of pain enter his mind.

“And I want the Miraculous, so get them…or else,” he threatens, and Evillustrator feels a pain course through his body. “I’ll show you what else my Miraculous can do when a ‘failsafe’ is required.”

“Okay, I will, I will!” Evillustrator promises desperately, and the pain leaves him as he hears footsteps.

“Happy Birthday.” he hears, and he sees Marinette wearing a beautiful dress with a floral pattern, a purse at her side with a pair of flat shoes, and her hair tied in a braid down her back.

“Marinette!” the akuma stands up, smiling. “Thank you for coming,” he says, making a bridge for her to step onto the boat from the seine’s edge.

“It’s all so beautiful,” Marinette says as she steps on board.

“You like it? Well, hold on, ‘cause I’m just getting started!” He says gladly, about to draw something more, but dark clouds begin to roll in, blocking the moon from view. “No…no! Come on, you’ve gotta be kidding!” he complains, and after seeing the way Marinette looks at him, he tries to compose himself. “Uhm, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just... I can't draw properly in the dark.” he explains and draws a glowing sphere in the nearby sky resembling the moon, using a lantern to supply light. “Voila!” he smiles.

The two ride on the boar, playing music from his pad, and Marinette soon scotts closer to him.

“You're very talented, Nathaniel.” She says.

“It’s Evi-” he begins, but Marinette puts her finger to his lips.

“Try as you might, Nathaniel, nothing you can do can make me call you evil,” she says gently, and he blushes deeply, unable to argue with her. “What I’d like to know is why you’d use this power to hurt people.”

“Not all people!” Evillustrator clarifies. “Just Chloe. And I'll never do it again. After all, you were true to your promise, so I'll be true to mine.” He says kindly.

“I draw a little too, you know, for my fashion designs. I actually made what I’m wearing tonight.” She says, and his eyes light up.

“Really? It’s very pretty…” he says.

“Is it okay if I try drawing something?” she whispers to him, and he swallows. “I could draw something special for your birthday.”

“Y-yes…that would be amazing,” he says, and she touches the pen, both of their hands now gripping it, and then Evillustrator notices something out of the corner of his vision…a dark shape with glowing green eyes.

“Marinette, wait, give me the pen back. I need to draw something now!” he expresses.

“Sorry, Nathaniel,” Marinette responds and starts to run. “Chat Noir, the moon!”

“Cataclysm!” Chat Noir declares, destroying the moon Evillustrator created and causing a feedback that causes Evillustrator to wince, plunging everything into darkness!

“Marinette! Are you working with him? I'm so stupid... I actually thought you liked me! But you're really just like Chloe. Teasing me, mocking me, leading me on!” Evillustrator begins, gripping his head, and he charges for Marinette! He tackles her down, grabbing the pen from her as he throws her against Chat Noir, who catches her as the two seem to be thrown back!

“Now I’ve got you!” Evillustrator grins as he starts to draw on his tablet, crouching down to the lantern, but…nothing?

“Sorry, Evillustrator, but that’s not your pen,” Chat Noir smiles, and the akuma’s eyes widen as he sees the red pen with black spots, which he can only make out now in the light of the lantern. “This is!” Chat Noir snaps the real pen, and the akuma flutters out, which Chat Noir immediately catches inside of his staff.

“No-” Evillustrator exclaims as he transforms back into Nathaniel and falls to the ground, nearly passing out from the exertion.

“All right! Pound it!” Chat Noir says, and Marinette’s eyes widen a bit. “Oh, er…” Chat stammers. “Sorry, it’s a thing Ladybug and I do when we win, and…I guess it’s kinda muscle memory-”

“Hey.” Marinette smiles and holds up her fist. “It’s cool,” she says, and Chat smiles wide as they bump fists. “Now go find your Lady, so she can fix all of this,” she says, referring to the things Evillustrator had summoned, and she walks over to Nathaniel.

“Come on, Nathaniel. Let’s get you home…and talk.” Marinette suggests.

“Okay.” Nathaniel nods a little bit.

---

“So you don’t even know why they left?” Alya asks Chloe, exasperated.

“Not at all! Clearly, that akuma knew not to mess with me.” She says, flipping her hair over her shoulder dismissively, and Marinette sighs as she watches failing to get very substantial information about the akuma from Chloe.

“So, you’re really going back to Chloe?” Marinette asks Sabrina, not too far away.

“She’s doing more than usual!” Sabrina tries to defend, but the new beret Sabrina is sporting doesn’t go over Marinette’s head.

Well…there’s some doubt there! Maybe.

“Hey, Marinette!” she hears Adrien call, and she smiles fondly as Adrien walks up to her. “I heard about your adventures with Chat Noir yesterday. Were you scared?” he asks.

“Oh, uh, plenty!” Marinette says.

Which isn’t really a lie. It was my first time going toe-to-toe with an akuma without the Miraculous.

“But Chat Noir was there! He saved me.” Marinette smiles.

“So, what did you think of Chat Noir?” Adrien asks. “Not many people talk about him. Was he awesome?”

“Yeah…he was.” Marinette smiles a bit. “Maybe cooler than you.” she teases, and he laughs a bit.

“Marinette, you wound me!” He smiles a bit playfully, and the two walk out of the classroom as the bell rings, chatting until they head to Adrien’s car, upon which he heads home.

I talked with Adrien! We joked around! We had fun!

Marinette’s eyes wander, and she smiles as she sees Nathaniel finally heading to the art club to give himself a proper outlet, so his emotions can no longer be taken advantage of, while everyone around her gossips about the recent KIDZ+ scandal regarding the Weather Girl competition, and the exact reason why there are two girls now, not just one.

Life is good.

#sugar & spice au #miraculous au #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #mlb fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug and chat noir

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