#but also who has a pillow fight OUTSIDE??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monzabee · 3 months ago

Text

the alchemy - cs55

masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where not Carlos, nor you, have the power to fight the alchemy.

Pairing: dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: absolute fluff (been a while), possible ovary explosion bc of dad!carlos, cursing (because i use way too many f-bombs in real life too), kids (apparently, it’s a tw for some people), i tried hating charles but it’s not happenning so a cheater redemption arc (kinda, he's trying okay??)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, thank you all so much for the love you showed for part one, i really appreciate it and i'm sorry that this part has been a little delayed, but i just wanted it to be just as drama-filled as the first part whilst still being a bit lighter so i hope i found the right balance for it. while we love dad!carlos, i felt like charles still deserved a chance to redeem himself and come to his senses so we love that redemption arc for him (well, kinda guess?). also, i know we have one more part of this little mini-series to go, a social media au (yay!), but i just wanted to let you all know, once again, that i do not have a taglist, and no i will not be making one!! however, i do appreciate all your support and comments, and please do let me know what you think about this part! thanks to @percervall once again, who had to listen me talk about this part for many many hours and who was kind enough to help me proofread!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It only happened once every few lifetimes.

You honestly did not expect to end up with one of your closest friends – especially not after you told your cheating husband that you were getting a divorce, after he chose his lover over you and your baby; and most definitely not after the said close friend told you that he would step up instead of your cheat of a husband.

But there you are, in the arms of non-other than Carlos Sainz, your boyfriend, having just woken up by the excited pitter patter of feet right outside your bedroom door. “Carlos,” you whisper, nudging him softly to wake him up, “Carlos, wake up.” You watch as he stirs, and then buries his head onto his pillow mumbling all the reasons why he doesn’t want to be awake, but you just chuckle softly as you poke him again. “Carlos, please.”

With a disgruntled grunt, you watch as his eyes open, and with a scratchy voice he whines, “What, amor, I was sleeping.”

Rolling your eyes, you point to the bedroom door, “Listen,” you tell him, and watch as his eyes widen as realisation sets in at the same time his expression turns into a smiling one. “I think someone is excited for today.”

“You think?” He retorts, snorting lightly as he pulls you closer, “That’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks, amor.”

“Well, can you blame him?” You nudge him, ignoring the sound of scraping of your son’s step stool outside your door. “He just wants to watch his father win.” Watching the smile on your boyfriend’s face grows as the door handle is jiggling, you point to the pillows with your head, “Let’s just pretend we’re asleep, he’ll be happier that way.”

With a deep sigh, the happy kind, he pulls you closer to himself – at the right time too, as you hear the patter of footsteps getting closer. With a tug at the comforter, you hear, “Papa, wake up.” You can hear Carlos, badly, muffling a chuckle by burying his head deeper into your neck, but the little voice beside him is non-relenting. “Papa! You promised me we’d go to the race today!”

“Carlos,” you whisper covertly, “you’re going to make him cry.”

Giving you a look that silently says, No I won’t, he turns towards the little intruder in your bedroom, quickly gathering him in his arms as he puts him on the bed next to you. The sound of laughter coming from two of the most important men in your life bring a sleepy smile to your face as you watch Carlos tickle your son despites his protests for him to stop.

“Mommy!” Your son exclaims, climbing over Carlos to reach you, “Tell Papa to stop! We need to get ready!” His face is flushed with excitement and laughter, a sight that fills your heart with warmth.

“Alright, alright,” you say, giggling as you pull him into a hug, “let’s get ready then. You don’t want to be late for your big day, do you?”

Carlos finally stops his playful assault, sitting up and stretching with a groan. “She’s right, buddy. We should all get up and get going. Lots to do before the race, you still remember our plan for breakfast?” Your son’s eyes light up even more, if that were possible, and he scrambles off the bed, running back to his room to get dressed. You and Carlos exchange a glance, something you seem to do more now than ever.

You wait until Rafael is out of the hearing distance before you tilt your head sideways and narrow your eyes in question, “What plan are you talking about?”

“Nothing for you,” he boops your nose with his pointer finger as he straightens up and gets out of the bed, “to worry your pretty little head about. Just come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but willing to play along. “So, you think I’m pretty?” you ask, batting your eyes at him exaggeratedly as he gently shoves you back into the bed. Getting up and stretching, which you shamelessly take the opportunity to ogle him, you watch him with a smile as he heads towards the kitchen following your son. Getting ready consists of brushing your teeth and hastily throwing on a robe for you, too anxious to see what you son and husband cooking up in the kitchen – literally.

The scene in the kitchen is enough to melt your heart on its own – Rafael is standing on his trusty step stool at the counter, his little hands busy arranging an assortment of fruits on a plate. The concentration on his face is evident by the way his tongue peeks out slightly in that adorable way he does when he’s focused, a habit that he picked up from his father. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is busy with flipping something in a pan, shirtless might you add.

“Oh my God, look at my boys!” You croon, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin. “You even have matching hats and everything!”

“Boys?” Carlos scoffs, turning to Rafael and pointing his finger towards you, “Can you believe her?” He then turns to you as he places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “We are not boys, amor, we are men.”

You chuckle at his exaggerated display of masculinity, shaking your head as you walk further into the kitchen. “Oh, of course, how could I forget? The two manliest men I know,” you tease, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Rafael, picking up on the banter, puffs out his little chest just like his father, mimicking his stance. “Yeah, Mommy! We're strong, right, Papa?”

Carlos grins, his eyes twinkling as he looks at Rafael. “That’s right, we’re the strongest men in the world." He turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And we make the best breakfast too. Isn’t that right, Raf?”

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, beaming with pride as he holds up the plate of perfectly arranged fruit. “Look what I made, Mommy!”

You lean down to inspect his handiwork, smiling softly. “Wow, this looks incredible, sweetheart. You’re so talented!” You give him a big kiss on the cheek, making him giggle.

Carlos steps closer, holding out a fork with a piece of pancake speared on it. “And how about a taste test, amor?” His voice is softer now, the playful tone giving way to something more tender.

You take the fork from him, taking a bite of the pancake. The fluffiness and warmth of it fill your senses, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. “This is amazing, Carlos. You’ve outdone yourself.”

He watches you with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Only the best for you.”

Rafael, not wanting to be left out, grabs a piece of fruit and holds it up to you. “Try mine too, Mommy!”

You take the fruit from him, savouring the sweetness as you chew. “Delicious! You’re both going to spoil me with all this great food.”

Carlos chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver slightly. “I can also spoil you in the other way you like,” his voice drops enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him, meeting his playful yet heated gaze, and feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Carlos,” you murmur, half-warning, half-inviting, as Rafael happily oblivious to the exchange, chatters away about his breakfast creation. “I would like to still be able to walk by the time we get to the paddock.”

But Carlos just smirks, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “Later, amor,” he promises, his voice thick with affection and mischief.

Before you can respond, Rafael tugs at your robe, breaking the spell. “Mommy! Let’s eat now!” His voice is filled with the kind of innocent excitement that only a child can muster, and it instantly brings you back in the present moment.

You smile down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Carlos gives you one last knowing glance before stepping back to grab the plates. As the three of you settle down at the table, you try to ignore his lingering gaze that makes your heart race just a bit faster, though you’re not exactly that successful.

It would be safe to say that it had been a crazy few years for Carlos Sainz. Or at least, that’s what Charles would say – if, you know, anybody was to ask him his opinion. First, he had lost his seat at Ferrari, and Charles really felt for him at first; after all, he was his teammate. But he was also the man who ended his marriage, so his feelings for Carlos changed for the worse very quickly. The whole situation had him coming to some revelations.

First revelation he came to was the fact that he was wrong for cheating on his wife, however complicated the situation might be. He had tried to justify it to himself, blaming the stress and the strain, but deep down, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done.

Second revelation was that you deserved to be happy, with or without him – he was just being petty because it was with his old teammate. You deserved to be happy, and while Charles could admit that in theory, accepting that your happiness was now tied to Carlos was a bitter pill to swallow.

Third, and probably the biggest, revelation was that he had royally screwed up when he chose the other woman over you and your son, and it was a loss that he mourned every single day. If he thought seeing Carlos thrive after his own life was crumbling down was hurting his ego, seeing Carlos be the father to his son, was a thousand times worse.

Life took an interesting turn for Carlos after that night at the hotel in Monte Carlo. You had no expectations for him, you didn’t expect him to stay true to his words and be there for you and your baby. But that was the thing, because he kept his promise. He was at your door the next morning with a short list of apartments and penthouses in Monte Carlo. Anticipating your need of getting out of the country, he was prepared – he also looked at apartments in New York, houses in LA and townhouses in London (the few apartments he chose in Madrid also didn’t escape you, but it was a conversation you weren’t ready to have yet). So, when you were having, yet another breakdown in front of him, he just stood next to you and held you until you calmed down. He was always next to you, somehow managing his schedule for the racing season and coming out to see you between races. He kept true to his promise as he made waffles for you at midnight, grumbling about how pancakes were superior, and he held your hand when you were in the delivery room even though you were probably close to breaking the poor man’s hand. The bigger shock came when he announced that he would not be racing for the next season – something he had conveniently not told you in the months leading up to your pregnancy. It also led up to your first fight, and your first real confrontation since this unexpected journey began. The news that Carlos wouldn’t be racing the next season blindsided you. It wasn’t just the fact that he had made such a monumental decision without consulting you; it was the realisation that he had chosen you and your child over the sport he loved so deeply.

“What do you mean you’re not racing next season?” you had asked, your voice edged with disbelief. You were standing in the kitchen of the new apartment he had helped you find, your baby—your son—napping peacefully in the next room. Carlos was casually leaning against the counter, arms crossed, as if he had just announced something as mundane as what was for dinner.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you had come to recognize as a sign that he was about to say something serious. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he said, his voice calm, and God it drove you insane how calm and rational he was being with a decision so irrational to you. “And after everything that’s happened... I just think it’s the right decision for now.”

“But racing is your life,” you insisted, the weight of his words settling in. “I don’t understand how you can just walk away from it.”

Carlos met your gaze, his brown eyes steady and full of determination. “It’s not about walking away,” he explained. “It’s about priorities. You and Rafael... you’re my priority now. I want to be here for you both, not halfway across the world, missing out on everything.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. For so long, you had been used to being let down, to promises that were made and then broken. But here was Carlos, standing in front of you, willing to give up something he loved more than anything for you and your son.

“That’s not fair to you,” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams.”

Carlos stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not taking anything away from me,” he assured you. “You’re giving me something I didn’t even know I needed. I’m choosing this, because I want to. I want to be here for you, to be the father Rafael deserves. I want us to be a family.”

His words broke through the wall you had been holding up, and you let the tears fall. It wasn’t just about the sacrifice he was making; it was about the fact that he was doing it willingly, without hesitation, because he wanted to be with you and Rafael. It was a love that was deeper than anything you had ever known, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with hope.

“But what if you regret it?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your fears.

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “I know what I want. And if I ever go back to racing, it’ll be when we’re ready. When we both decide it’s the right time. But for now, this is where I need to be.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was as serious as ever, and in that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just about him making a choice— it was about him choosing you, over and over again, in a way no one ever had before.

The argument you had anticipated fizzled out before it could even begin. There was nothing left to fight about, not when he had laid his heart bare for you. All you could do was fall into his arms, holding onto him tightly as you let the weight of his decision sink in. It was overwhelming, knowing that someone loved you that much, that they would uproot their entire world just to be by your side.

So, yeah, Carlos Sainz had not raced for the 2025 season. If it were up to him, he would stay with the two of you for the 2026 season as well, but you and Carlos Sainz Sr managed to convince him to get back to the real world, no matter how much he was enjoying being a stay-at-home dad. But the biggest shock for the world, and Charles, wasn’t that Carlos was returning to the F1 grid – no, the biggest shock was that he was returning to the F1 grid in one of the most coveted seats; right next to Max Verstappen. The reaction to the news had been mixed. Some were thrilled to see him back, eager to see what he could do in a car as competitive as the Red Bull. Others were skeptical, wondering if a year away from the sport had dulled his edge. For Charles, the news was a bitter pill to swallow. Carlos wasn’t just returning to the grid—he was stepping into one of the most sought-after seats in F1. But more than that, it was the reminder that Carlos had taken something else from him, something far more personal and painful. Watching Carlos step into his new role at Red Bull, knowing that he was now part of your life and Rafael’s life in a way Charles never could be, was a constant, aching reminder of everything he had lost.

And so began the Leclerc-Sainz rivalry – which although sounds riveting, is probably the reason why you had to visit your cardiologist more times than necessary within the last couple of years. On the surface, it was the perfect storyline: two former teammates, now on opposing sides, battling it out on the track in some of the most intense and thrilling races the sport had ever seen. But for you, it was far from entertainment. Each race weekend became a new source of anxiety, and Carlos knew how much it affected you, so he tried his best to keep the rivalry on the track. He would reassure you, telling you that whatever happened during the race, it wouldn’t change how he felt about you or Rafael. But even he couldn’t deny that the tension between him and Charles was personal. It was more than just racing—it was about proving something, not just to the world, but to themselves and each other. And so, race after race, you found yourself on an emotional rollercoaster. The thrill of seeing Carlos perform at his best was always accompanied by the fear of what might happen if things went wrong. The rivalry wasn’t just a storyline for the media—it was a real, living thing that had a profound impact on your life.

So, when Rafael told you that he wanted to watch his father race live, you were hesitant to agree. The thought of bringing your son into that world—where emotions ran high, and the stakes were even higher—filled you with dread. The last thing you wanted was for Rafael to witness the intensity of the rivalry that had consumed not just Carlos and Charles, but your entire life.

Carlos, however, was adamant. He knew how much it meant to Rafael to see him race, to be a part of something that had been such a significant part of Carlos’s life before Rafael was born. “He needs to see it,” Carlos told you one evening as you sat together, discussing Rafael’s request. “He needs to know what I do, why it’s important to me, and why I went back to racing in the first place.”

You couldn’t deny that Carlos had a point. Rafael idolized his father and seeing him in action would only strengthen the bond between them. But the idea of watching the race unfold, of seeing Carlos and Charles go head-to-head while your son was there, was almost too much to bear. The days leading up to the race were a blur of preparation and anxiety. Carlos did his best to reassure you, but the tension was palpable. He understood your fears and promised to keep things professional, but you both knew that once the lights went out, everything would be on the line. So, you weren’t exactly surprised that your boyfriend spent the entire morning buttering you up and getting you to relax as much as possible about the day ahead of you.

And to be perfectly fair, he was right for the most part. It had been fine from the moment you made it into the paddock, which somehow worked wonders on your anxiety. As you made your way to the circuit, Rafael’s excitement was infectious. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his little face pressed against the window as he took in the sights. You couldn’t help but smile, his joy momentarily easing the knot of anxiety that had been tightening in your chest since the moment you agreed to come to the paddock in the first place.

Seeing him so happy and in his element, you know instantly that the paddock, no matter in which country, is going to become his safe place. Rafael keeps asking Carlos questions about everything from how they manage to keep the cars so clean to what would happen if they didn’t wear helmets. And Carlos is patient as he answers all his questions, no matter how childish or obvious they might seem. So, when he told Rafael that maybe, just maybe, he might end up in one of the cars he admires so much one day, you know your son won’t miss the beat. “Can I?” He asks you, eyes widened with a pleading look as he clasps his hands together under his chin, “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll be very careful.”

“Absolutely not,” you shake your head, mind immediately starting to think about all the things that could go wrong, “it’s so dangerous! Just think about how afraid you’d be of the speed.”

Rafael scoffs, arms crossed on his chest as he pleads through the pout he has on his face, “I’m not afraid of the speed! Papa, tell her I’m not afraid of the speed!”

Carlos reaches over Rafael’s head as he takes off his cap and ruffles his hair, which manages to get a series of giggles from the little boy, and he affirms, “You are not afraid of the speed, but your mother is right.” You have to hold in your laughter when you see the indignant look on Rafael’s face, but Carlos continues talking as he signals for his son to listen, “We can talk about it when you are older, but for right now you are my lead strategist, capisce?”

Rafael steers his pout towards you, and you shrug innocently in response, which gets a resigning sigh from him. “That’s fine, I guess.” He mumbles, and points to the garage door behind the table the three of you are sitting, “Can I look at your car again?”

“Be careful, and make sure you tell Caco where you are.” Carlos reminds him, as Rafael excitedly scurries off toward the garage, leaving you and Carlos to share a quiet moment.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, a content smile playing on his lips as he watched Rafael dart off. “He’s got the bug,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

You sigh, shaking your head playfully. “I know. He’s already got the attitude. I don’t think I’m ready for him to jump in a kart and never look back.”

Carlos reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you. “We’ll keep him safe,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “I promise. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure he’s ready, and we’ll protect him from the worst of it.”

You nod, squeezing his hand in return, trusting him like you always have. As you sit together, watching Rafael’s excitement fill the garage, the sweet moment is interrupted by a voice both of you know very well. “Seriously? You’re using him to get to me on a race day now?”

Your fingers nearly crush your poor boyfriend’s hand as you look at the intruder, your heart immediately racing. You turn to see Charles standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. His eyes flicker from Carlos to you, then toward the garage where Rafael had just run off. “Excuse me?” You manage to get out, your voice sharp with surprise. The audacity of his accusation stings more than you expected. Charles' gaze hardens as he steps closer, clearly not backing down.

“You heard me,” Charles says, his tone edged with bitterness. “Bringing Rafael here, right in the middle of everything... it’s not a coincidence. You’re just trying to—”

“To what?” Carlos cuts in, his voice calm but firm. His protective instincts kick in as he stands, placing himself between you and Charles. “To have a good day with our son? To let him enjoy the race?”

Charles scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s not your son, he’s mine. Stop fooling yourself into thinking you’re his father just because you’re here.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, everything goes silent. Carlos' expression tightens, but he doesn’t move, his body still a shield between you and Charles. You feel your breath catch in your throat, the weight of Charles’ words hanging heavy in the air. “I know who his father is, Charles,” Carlos says, his voice calm but steely. “And considering the fact that he doesn’t even know you exist, I’d say me being here is more than proof that I am his father.”

Charles' jaw clenches, and his eyes flicker with something raw—pain, jealousy, frustration, all mixed together. “You think you can just step in and take my place? Be the dad, play happy family with my son?”

“Cabrón,” Carlos warns, and though you’ve heard him use that nickname for his friends countless of times, this voice is devoid of all affection, “you lost all right to call yourself Rafael’s father when you decided to choose whatever flavour of the month you were with at the time.” You feel your heart race, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the moment and the murderous look on Carlos’ face. Carlos steps forward, his voice low but terse. “You think being a father is about biology? About showing up when it’s convenient for you? Rafael doesn’t even know who you are because you’ve never been there for him. I have. I’ve been the one tucking him in, I've been there when he was sick and crying, and I’m the one showing him love every single day.”

Charles flinches, the sting of the truth evident in his expression. For a moment, the fire in his eyes dims, replaced by something else— regret, perhaps. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he straightens his posture, trying to regain control of the situation. “I made mistakes,” Charles says, his voice quiet but defiant. “But you can’t just erase me from his life. He has a right to know who his real father is.”

Carlos’ gaze doesn’t waver, his protective instincts blazing. “Rafael knows who his real father is. He may not understand all the details yet, but he knows who’s been there for him. And when the time comes, when he’s ready, we’ll tell him the truth. But that decision isn’t yours to make anymore, Charles. You gave up that right a long time ago.”

“You’re just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?” Charles hisses, turning towards you in an attempt to find sympathy. His eyes are pleading, but there’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

Your chest tightens as you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of everything that has been left unsaid between the three of you for so long. You take a deep breath, your voice soft but firm when you finally respond. “It’s time to let go, Charles.” Charles' face falls at your words, the weight of their finality hitting him hard. His lips part slightly as if he wants to argue, but no words come. The tension in the air is suffocating, each second stretching out painfully. Carlos remains silent, standing tall beside you, his hand subtly resting on your back for support. He knows this conversation is yours to finish. “It’s not about erasing you from Rafael’s life,” you continue, your voice steady though your heart is pounding in your chest. “It’s about doing what’s best for him. And right now, that means protecting him from the confusion and hurt that the fact that you were too much of a coward to choose him.”

Charles takes a step back, the anger in his expression dimming into something more fragile. His eyes search yours, perhaps looking for a trace of the bond you once shared, but it’s clear that things have changed too much. Too much time has passed. “I’m not trying to hurt him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I apologised countless of times, what more do you want from me? I am sorry, okay?”

“Are you quite done?” Charles flinches at your sharp tone, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. His gaze drops to the ground as if he’s searching for something to say, but nothing comes. Carlos stands steady beside you, his presence strong, comforting, even. “I am sorry, too, about it all.”

You can feel Carlos’ confused stare on you, and Charles looks at you with the same expression as he asks, “You... do?”

“I’m sorry that you were cheating on me from the start, I’m sorry you were too weak to stay faithful to me after we got married,” you continue, the words heavy but resolute as they fall from your lips. Charles' expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and pain crossing his face. Carlos’ hand tightens slightly on your back, offering silent support as you finally lay bare what you’ve held inside for so long. “I’m sorry I ignored it for as long as I did, and I’m sorry that I ever found out.” Charles’ face hardens, his eyes clouded with guilt and perhaps a hint of defensiveness as your words hit him. The weight of what you're saying seems to pull him down, and he takes a deep breath as if trying to absorb the impact. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, not willing to let this moment slip away before you say everything that’s been weighing on your heart. “I’m sorry I ever found out about the lies, but most of all, I’m sorry for Rafael. He deserved better, he deserved a father who was present and loved him without conditions,” you say, your eyes locking with Charles’. “You weren’t there, Charles, you weren’t there before Rafael, and you weren’t going to be there after him. So, I suppose what I’m not sorry for is falling in love with a man who was courageous enough to fill that role for both me and him.” Charles’ lips part as if to argue, but no words form. His eyes betray the guilt and regret he’s been carrying, but there’s nothing left for him to say. He knows it. You know it. Even the mechanics and people around you who have stopped what they are doing to watch this whole thing go down know it. “Finally, I’m sorry that you felt the need and audacity to come down here, now not only have you ruined our marriage, but you’ve also ruined my day-off which I intended to spend with my boyfriend, and our son.”

Charles flinches at your final words, his face crumpling under the weight of it all. The sting of your truth, laid bare for everyone to hear, leaves him speechless. His bravado has completely evaporated, replaced by a hollow sense of regret and defeat. He opens his mouth as if to respond but quickly closes it, realizing there’s nothing he can say that will undo the damage he caused, the pain he inflicted, or the years he lost. His eyes flicker to Carlos, who stands steady, unmoved by Charles’ turmoil. There’s no room for pity here. “I—” Charles begins but stops as Carlos raises his hand.

“I think you’ve said enough,” his voice lacks all sympathy for his old friend, his old teammate, “it’s best you should go before you distress my girlfriend, or my son any further.

Charles’ eyes widen slightly at Carlos’ words, the final blow landing hard. He looks as if he’s been physically struck, his shoulders slumping as any remaining fight drains from him. His gaze flickers between you and Carlos, searching for something—anything—but finding no redemption, no sympathy. There’s nothing left to say.

He swallows hard, his lips pressed into a tight line, before finally nodding in a reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He turns on his heel, walking away with slow, defeated steps. The tension that had gripped the air slowly begins to dissipate as he disappears into the distance, leaving only the echoes of his footsteps behind.

Carlos turns to you, his hand still resting on your back, but now it’s a comforting gesture rather than a protective one. His expression softens as he searches your face. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s just happened, but also a sense of relief. “I think so,” you reply, your voice steady despite the emotional whirlwind you’ve just gone through. “It needed to happen.”

Carlos nods, his thumb brushing soothingly against your back. “He’s not going to ruin this for us. Not today, not ever.”

You smile faintly, grateful for his support. “No, he’s not. He’s gone now, and I’m finally free of it all.”

“We’re free of him,” Carlos adds, a reassuring strength in his voice. “You, me, and Rafael. That’s what matters.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful on the track today,” you plead, chin resting on his chest as you look up to him.

Carlos chuckles softly, his warm smile easing the tension that still lingers. “I promise,” he says, his voice light but sincere. He tilts his head, giving you a playful wink. “But you know me, I can’t drive too carefully. It's in my nature to push the limits a bit.”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, but your heart flutters slightly at the thought of him racing. It’s something you’ve grown used to, but there’s always that edge of worry. "Just... don’t make me regret asking," you tease, though the concern in your voice is real.

Carlos leans down, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, the gesture filled with tenderness. "I’ll come back to you both, safe and sound," he whispers softly, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment. "Always."

You smile, feeling reassured by his words, and you give him a small nod. "Alright. Go show them what you’re made of, then."

As Carlos pulls away, you can see the familiar spark in his eyes, the passion and excitement that he always carries before a race. He gives your hand one last squeeze before turning to head toward the car. You watch him for a moment, taking in the sight of him—confident, composed, and ready for whatever comes next. Just before he reaches the garage doors, he turns back and flashes you that signature grin that always makes your heart skip a beat. “For you and Rafael,” he calls out. Your smile widens as you watch him go, knowing that no matter what happens on the track today, you’ll always have each other.

It’s not hard for you to find Rafael when you head back to the garage yourself. He’s completely engrossed in conversation with one of Carlos' engineers, pointing out different tools and parts of the car with wide-eyed fascination. His little hands gesture excitedly, and the engineer listens with a warm smile, clearly amused by Rafael’s enthusiasm. Carlos stands off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching his son with a look of pure affection and pride. His eyes sparkle as he takes in the sight of Rafael’s excitement, and there’s a certain softness to his expression that makes your heart swell.

You walk over, standing beside Carlos, who doesn’t take his eyes off Rafael but greets you with a small grin. “He’s already talking like he’s part of the team,” Carlos says quietly, his voice filled with pride. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s taking over the pit crew in a few years.”

You chuckle softly, watching Rafael explain something animatedly, his little voice echoing through the garage. “He’s got your passion,” you say, leaning into Carlos slightly, feeling the warmth of his presence.

Carlos hums in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist. “Maybe,” he says, his tone affectionate, “but the way he talks about everything… that’s all you. He’s got your curiosity, your heart, so, all my favourite parts of you.”

“My boyfriend the charmer,” you mumble as you lightly hit him on his chest.

Carlos chuckles, catching your hand gently against his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Just telling the truth,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling as he holds your gaze for a moment longer. “You deserve all the charm in the world.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re good at this, or I might think you’re just trying to get out of bath time for the next few days.”

Carlos laughs, his warm, deep voice sending a wave of comfort through you. “I’d never do that. Bath time is part of the job.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. “But if I do this race right, maybe we can negotiate something.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, but you can’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he always manages to make you feel light and cared for, even in the most mundane moments. “Alright, we’ll see how you perform today,” you tease back “if you win, I’ll let you put a baby in me, how about that?”

Carlos freezes for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise before a slow, playful grin spreads across his face. “You’re serious?” he asks, his voice filled with both excitement and disbelief.

You nod, biting your lip, unable to hide your own smile. “If you win today, we can start thinking about it.”

Carlos lets out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process what you just said. “Well, I’ve never been more motivated to win a race in my life,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a new intensity.

You chuckle, your heart racing at the look on his face. "Just make sure you’re focused on the track and not… well, other things."

“Oh, I’ll be focused,” Carlos says, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “But now, I’ve got the best reason in the world to win.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “For you, and for giving Rafael a baby sister or a brother.” Your breath catches at the sincerity in his voice, and as he pulls back, he flashes you that charming grin again before heading off toward the car. You watch him go, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness settle in your chest.

Eventually going behind the barriers and watching the race is harder than you’ve expected, you realise. As the laps go by, you keep glancing at Rafael, who’s glued to the action, his eyes wide with admiration for his dad. You smile at the way he clutches his little racing helmet, a miniature version of Carlos’ gear, his excitement evident. It’s clear he’s living every moment of the race through his dad’s performance, just as you are. When Carlos is in the lead, you hold your breath, willing him to stay ahead. When he’s fighting for position, you’re on the edge of your seat, cheering him on with every ounce of energy you have.

As the final laps approach, you glance at the clock and then at Rafael, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. You can tell he’s just as invested in the outcome as you are. You squeeze his hand, giving him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a determined nod.

When Carlos crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd is deafening, and you let out a cheer of your own, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. You look down at Rafael, who’s jumping up and down, his face beaming with pride and excitement. “He did it!” you shout, lifting him up in your arms as you join in the celebration.

Caco and a couple of the mechanics help you and Rafael to get to the barriers, weaving through the throng of celebrating fans and team members. As you approach the barriers, Rafael’s excitement is noticeable. His eyes are wide with wonder, and he clutches his mini helmet tightly, bouncing with every step. Caco, with his warm, reassuring smile, offers a few words of congratulations and gives Rafael a high-five. Carlos comes into view, his car parked in the parc fermé. His grin is infectious, and you can see the joy and relief in his eyes as he looks up at you and Rafael. The moment he gets out of the car, he’s enveloped by his team, but his gaze quickly finds you and Rafael. He finds his way to you after getting weighed and you can see him grab his cap before finally rushing towards you. Carlos scoops Rafael up into his arms, spinning him around as they both laugh, and then turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection.

“Well, looks like we’ve got a baby sister or brother to start thinking about,” Carlos says with a wink, setting Rafael down so he can pull you a in for a kiss.

You smile against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the joy of this moment. When you pull away, you look up at Carlos, your eyes sparkling with love and excitement. “We do, don’t we?” you say softly, your heart full as you take in the sight of your family together in this victorious moment.

Rafael, still buzzing with excitement, tugs on Carlos’ sleeve, his little voice bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Papa, did you see me cheering? I was so loud!”

Carlos laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. “I heard you, buddy. You were the loudest cheerleader out there.”

As the celebration continues around you, you feel a profound sense of contentment. The day’s events, the race, the emotions—everything has come together perfectly. You take a deep breath, savouring the feeling of being surrounded by the people you love most.

Carlos pulls you close, wrapping his arms around both you and Rafael. “Thank you for everything today,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve made this day even more special.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart. “It’s been an incredible day,” you agree, looking out at the jubilant scene around you. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend it with anyone else.”

As you watch him savour the moments with your son before he needs to go for his interview and the podium celebrations, you realise just how lucky you are to have something that only happens every few lifetimes.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #carlos sainz angst

825 notes · View notes

brucewaynehater101 · 3 months ago

Note

Warning: Dark, Suicidal Tim, etc. Also small spoilers for the Injustice movie

Had a random thought, slightly inspired by the Injustice movie: what if Tim, in a mental health slump, decided to teach the bats a final lesson? Every time he defends himself against Damian’s attacks, he’s criticized for it. So one day, he just doesn’t.

Damian gets angry and decides to take it out on the person he won’t be criticized for attacking. After Tim doesn’t respond to his taunts, he gets physical, and throws a knife or slashes his sword, expecting Tim to get out of the out of the way or block the blow, and Tim doesn’t. The sound of a blade parting flesh and a body falling to the ground gets the other bats attention, and they turn to see Damian standing there with blood on his blade and Tim’s body on the ground.

(Inspired by the scene in the Injustice movie where Damian kills Dick by throwing a baton (escrima stick? IDK) at him, expecting him to catch it (which, earlier in the movie, he did), and Dick, being distracted, doesn’t, and it hits him directly on the temple. Accident, sure, but caused by recklessness)

Basically Damian needs to learn that attacking other people because you are angry is NOT OKAY. Seriously, if you’re pissed, go beat up a training dummy or scream into a pillow.

Does Damian learn the lesson? Or not? What about B and Dick and the others? How do they react?

[Thank you for the TWs! WARNING: This is bad batfam. I love them, but we're chucking them under the angst crack bus for this]

Tw: Dark/Suicidal Tim, domestic abuse, psychological warfare, manipulation, mentions of suicide attempt

Tim is tired of constantly fighting back and defending himself. He's tired of Damian and Jason attacking him. He's tired of Dick and Bruce pushing his boundaries.

If Tim just allows Damian to stab him, *he'll* be the one to get lectured for not dodging. It will become Tim's fault, as a trained vigilante, for not preventing himself from being injured.

What does he decide to do?

Resist with extreme psychological warfare no matter the damage to himself.

He starts small.

He curates cases/stories of sibling abuse and starts to leave them in places Dick will find (hacking/messing with Dick's fyp, newspapers around the Manor, files on the batcomputer, a case Babs is informed about, etc). They aren't reflective of Tim's experiences, not yet, but they show common patterns: adult figures not stepping in, siblings being pushed to compete, escalation, negative behaviors transferring to people/things outside of the siblings, etc.

For Bruce, Tim tricks the man into reading an intimate relationships psychology textbook by stating it was necessary for a case. He then keeps tricking the man into reading gentle parenting, boundaries, and other such information.

Jason is much easier. Tim just leaves books of various siblings relationships within the man's safehouses (healthy ones, distant, cruel, enemies, abusive, recent siblings [like adoption], etc). Jason doesn't know Tim is the one leaving those books, but he is intrigued by the "recommendations." A lot of them have other lessons Tim has prepared mixed in as well [which, if Jason finds out Tim is the one who recommended the books after he starts getting along with him, then they can have book clubs ^^].

Tim sends a ton of empathy animal related movies/shows Dick's way so that the older one ropes Damian into watching them.

This takes months, but at no point does Tim relate the lessons to Tim himself yet.

He then starts pouring in warnings. When Damian tries to hurt him again, Tim asks Dick, "What if I was too tired to dodge it?" This is the only time he asks. Dick waves it off cause Damian "knows better" now. I

Tim almost gave up the game right there and then to prove a point. He held back, though.

For Jason, Tim throws in shock-value trauma dump phrases when they meet up to prevent the older one from attacking.

Jason: *pulls out a gun*

Tim: "Damn. You'd think after threatening to kill myself to prevent my future from occurring that I'd be okay with guns. For some reason, they still make me nauseous."

Jason: *holsters gun* "What the fuck?"

Tim: *nods and then disappears*

It kind of trains Jason from attacking Tim unless he wants to hear really fucked up shit that will have his mind spiraling for days.

For Bruce, Tim just points out how and when the man crosses other people's boundaries (but doesn't point out Tim's). He doesn't put any expectation or remedy out. He just indicates it to start Bruce's thought process of "Did I just cross someone's boundary?"

Then Tim feels that it's ready. He won't get blamed for not dodging Damian's attack.

So, he lets himself be seriously stabbed.

This cues Damian into having a mental breakdown. Dick and Bruce oscillate between blaming everyone else and then themselves. Jason, after seeing the shitshow of these reactions, assigns himself (without telling the others) to suicide watch Tim [those trauma dump phrases are working against Tim here].

Once Tim awakens and realizes the mess he's created, he fucking regrets it all. He doesn't want to have to clean it all up and manipulate them into being better. He's also kind of pissed at Damian for not aiming for his heart or something. Damn.

#tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

473 notes · View notes

cherrydbear · 5 months ago

Text

Since y'all seemed to like this I'll keep rambling on the subject, I can do this all day. Here are some of those examples where I think their friendship really shines through:

From Sanji's perspective, this guy just showed up outside his restaurant one day, dueled the legendary swordsman who slashed Don Krieg's fleet to pieces, willingly got cut almost in two, nearly bled to death, was tied up by his own crew and then captured by the Arlong pirates, still singlehandedly escaped and came back to join the fight and defeated one of Arlong's best fighters, then nearly bled to death again and woke up just in time to drink himself silly at the afterparty. I've heard people say they "match each other's freak" and that's the truth. Sanji watches this absolute wackadoodle of a man and knows he's found someone who matches his freak. From Zoro's point of view, some cook at a floating restaurant just fed all of their enemies out of principle before kicking their butts. How could he not respect that sort of unconditional adherence to a sense of honor and justice? Especially considering he himself experienced starvation not too long ago in Shells Town. Now this cook, the newest stray in Luffy's collection, immediately proves himself to be immensely capable both in the kitchen and on the battlefield, incurs injury to himself without complaint to protect these people he barely knows, and still is the only person to come sit by Zoro and check up on him. So Zoro knows that Sanji has a heart of pure gold, and I think that's a big part of why he gets frustrated when Sanji tries to cover it up with bravado and perviness.

This scene was really interesting to me because usually when someone demands that Zoro does something, he grouches and grumbles about it, so in this case it seems he just spontaneously started helping out himself. And if there was ever a man whose love language is acts of service, it's Roronoa Zoro. He seems to be more of a "companionable silence" kind of guy, while Sanji's a talker and will say anything to keep feeling connected. Now, I don't know if this is just a me thing, but I like to say my friends' names a lot, even just because the association with them brings me joy, but I rarely use the names of people I'm not close with except to refer to them in third person or to get their attention. In this scene, it seems to me that Sanji keeps repeating Zoro's name as a way to show he's thinking about him and appreciates him being there, though I might just be projecting.

Now, I know shippers go crazy over this one, but I think it's honestly really solid platonic evidence and I'll tell you why (not to dissuade shipping, I think you have to be friends before you can be more than friends so all of this can be fuel for the ship too if you want it to be). Firstly, they're comfortable enough to sleep this close together. Sanji's resting his sleepy head right on Zoro's shoulder (it should have been me, not him) and Zoro just lets him. Also note real quick, only a short distance away Luffy is using Usopp as a pillow, so they're all a cuddly cozy little family. When Zoro notices Sanji mistakenly trying to kiss him, he doesn't even move away, he just makes a face and waits for Sanji to wake up so he can make fun of him. Sanji, for his part, doesn't act embarrassed or disgusted that it turned out to be Zoro there, only playfully mad about his expression. They squabble for a few moments before Luffy pushes past them and they turn their attention to the next thing, argument forgotten, proving that neither was actually angry about anything and they were merely enjoying the opportunity to bicker.

This is from the hunting competition in Little Garden that I mentioned before. I just wanted to point out that both of them are grinning and clearly having a grand time.

(I love how Sanji's hands are just massive sometimes.) They have the entire forest clearing, and Sanji chooses to sit his little booty down right next to Zoro and toss his food at him. They're just like those kids in elementary who had beef over who has a more impressive Pokémon collection and would always sit next to each other at lunch to compare cards and play together at recess but claim they're archnemeses. And for as much as Sanji implied to Usopp (though oblivious) that the heart shaped vegetables were just for the ladies, he did choose to make it and serve it to the whole crew. Speaking of the ladies, Sanji is always adamant about protecting them, but he was perfectly fine with leaving Nami and Robin in Zoro's care, just as Zoro trusted Sanji to take care of Luffy and Usopp.

I also loved how Sanji packed Zoro a cute little lunchbox for exploring and he was NOT going to let no stupid south bird take it from him.

Alright that's all for today folks I gotta wake up in like 5 hours for work lol

Continuation from this post

#one piece #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #mine

490 notes · View notes

bunnysbrainrot · 9 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

#fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #bunny writes #smut #smut writing #the last of us fanfiction

846 notes · View notes

wriothesleybear · 9 months ago

Text

Based off of this magnificent fanart

~warnings: a lot of fluff and romance, a bit suggestive in Wrio’s part, fem!reader. Word count: 1.6k

~a/n: I couldn’t get over the fanart of Wrio and Diluc as firefighters and I just had to write about it. It’s my first time writing for Diluc so I hope it’s ok. This is also in honor of getting a body pillow of him. It’s so beautiful and I sleep much better with it.

Firefighter!Wrio who you met when he rescued your cat from a tree. You couldn’t help but swoon from the image of this large, buff, muscled man holding a little kitten in his arms. You thank him and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are. He was about to ask you for his number when he got called for another emergency. You meet him again when your cat gets stuck in a tree again. He feels slightly guilty for being thankful that your cat got stuck again so you two could meet again. After he hands you your cat back, he smiles down at you and asks you for your number. You blush and give it to him.

Firefighter!Wrio who is the type of boyfriend to tease and flirt with you. He has a playful and chill attitude outside of work compared to his focused and serious attitude at work. He likes to carry you a lot, either bridal style or throws you over his shoulder to get you into a giggling mood. It always cheers you up when you’re feeling down. Loves tickle fights. He will actually chase you around the house until he catches you, dragging you to the couch so you two can snuggle. Once he’s got you in a cuddle hold, there’s no getting up for a while.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves kisses and make out sessions. While you’re busy doing something, he’ll wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses down your neck until you decide to drop what you’re doing and give him your full attention. He enjoys when your fingers slide down his body, nails lightly scratching his skin as you admire his build and muscles. He really likes it when you pepper kisses on his scars.

Firefighter!Wrio who is a mixture of a golden retriever boyfriend and scary dog boyfriend. The golden retriever portion is due to him doing anything for you and being needy for affection. He’s always touching you in some way and follows you around the house like a puppy. The scary dog boyfriend is due to him looking scary to those who don’t know him. The piercing, scars, and large build sort of intimidate other guys from approaching you or bothering you. Little do they know, he’s just a golden retriever boyfriend who wants affection and cuddles. He is very protective as well.

Firefighter!Wrio who is great with kids and animals. He lets kids decorate his items with stickers because he can’t say no to them. If it makes them happy and smile, then who is he to take that away from them, he’ll deal with the onslaught of stickers. He sometimes thinks about what it would be like if it was your kids that were covering his things with stickers.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves to lay on your chest while your fingers rake through his hair. It helps him sleep better after a long stressful day. He acts a bit off when he’s had a hard day. He doesn’t really like to talk about the bad work days because he doesn’t want to spread the negativity to you but you can tell when he’s had a bad one. You don’t try to push him to talk if he doesn’t want to so you just open your arms for him and hold him. He can feel the weight lift off his shoulders when you hold him. It lets him know that it’ll be okay and that you’re always there for him even when you don't verbally say it or not.

Firefighter!Wrio who exercises on his free time. You love watching him work out and he likes your attention on him. Your eyes focus on his muscles as they flex when he does pull ups. Droplets of sweat slide down his sweat slicked skin, causing his skin to glisten in the lighting. While lost in your daze, you’re snapped out of it when he leans down in front of you, a hand positioned on each side of you on the bench, and he makes a flirty comment like “Darling, you’re drooling a bit. Am I really that mesmerizing?” as he gives you his signature teasing smirk. He’ll then offer you to join him in the shower. It turns out to be a very long shower that involved more than just washing each other’s body.

Firefighter!Diluc who you met when he saved you from a small kitchen fire. You were trying to bake something and it didn’t work out, therefore, it ended up in a fire. You felt so bad and embarrassed but he just reassured you that these happen a lot so it’s no big deal. He looks at the burnt pastries and points out that you accidentally put the temp up too high for too long causing the fire to occur. He sees the shameful look on your face and gives you a gentle look and some reassuring words on not to give up on baking. You smile and thank him and he swears his heart skips a beat at your beautiful smile. He’s unable to think about it further as he’s called away for another emergency.

Firefighter!Diluc whose heart skips a beat again when you show up at his firehouse later that week, gifting him some pastries you made as a thank you. You joke and say that they should taste better than the burnt ones you made last time. He covers his face to hide the slight blush that begins to cover his cheeks as he accepts your gift. You two exchange numbers as friends until it develops into something more.

Firefighter!Diluc is the slowburn type. You two start off as friends first, hanging out and all that until romantic feelings begin to blossom between the two of you as you get to know each other more. When he's sure you feel the same, he gathers the courage to ask you out on a date. He gives a small smile when you say yes. His shoulders relax and his heart is racing a bit more when he finally hears that you feel the same.

Firefighter!Diluc who is the protective type of boyfriend that spoils his s/o. He loves spending time with you doing mundane things. Cooking, having movie night, reading together, shopping, etc. You two could be doing the most boring activity and he’d still enjoy it because all he cares about is being with you.

Firefighter!Diluc who is a great cook and enjoys cooking/baking with you. He gives cooking advice and hugs you from behind while you cook. He says it's easier for him to help and supervise what you’re doing this way, but in reality, he just wants to be close to you as much as he can. He’s more than happy to taste test your cooking creations. (Plus he helps to make sure you don’t accidentally start another fire again). He thinks your concentration face is adorable.

Firefighter!Diluc who gives you a passionate kiss before he leaves for work. Neither of you ever know what could happen so he wants to make sure that you know how he feels about you in case it’s the last time you see him. He keeps pictures of you and him together in his work locker. It comforts him when he misses you and gives him the courage and strength to make sure he comes back home to you.

Firefighter!Diluc is the type to not discuss his work at home as well. He wouldn’t want to burden you with stress and worries. When he’s had a bad day, he’s pretty good at hiding it, but you’ve learned to read his cues that show he’s not doing too well mentally. You immediately drop everything and guide him over to the couch where you let him bury his head in your neck as you hold each other close. His hold is tight around you, but not constricting. You give him words of comfort while rubbing his back and playing with his long, beautiful red hair. He basks in your affection and comforting touches, inhaling your scent which helps calm him down as he nuzzles into your neck.

Firefighter!Diluc who lets you play with his hair. You have a blast trying multiple different hairstyles on him while he relishes in the feeling of your gentle touch on his hair. After a long day, when you two take a relaxing bath, he appreciates it when you take the time to wash his hair. It’s a rewarding massage that helps him relax and feel sleepy. He swears you have magical hands by the effect you have on him. All you have to do is touch a part of his body and he melts into your touch.

Firefighter!Diluc who loves holding hands with you. The feel of his warm, calloused hands compared to your gentle, soft ones. Your touch is like heaven to him. He prefers leaving kisses on your hands the most. Please cup his face. He’ll absolutely melt right then and there and give you anything you want. He also likes resting your foreheads together. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, holding you close as you cup his cheeks, leaning your forehead against one another and gaze into each other’s eyes. He thinks it’s the most intimate and romantic thing you two do.

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley headcanons #diluc x reader #diluc headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #wriothesley fluff #diluc fluff

884 notes · View notes

anjelicawrites · 7 days ago

Text

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Synopsis: your marriage to Aemond would be a win, if it wasn’t for his dreadful, drafty quarters, you’re supposed to share with him. When you decide to live in another set of chambers, because he seems to ignore how unhappy you are, you two are bound to butt heads.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, crying, fighting, brief description of illness, a bit of manhandling, quick talk of cutting off Otto’s tongue, Aegon tries to be a good older brother but fails miserably.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used when needed. They’re called ‘wife’ and the only descriptor is that they have to crane their head to look at Aemond’s face

A/N 1: thank you @peachysunrize for screaming with me about it idea!

You arrange the brocade pillow on the old settee in front of the roaring fireplace: isn’t it lovely to have an interesting book to start, a warm blanket and a hearth to fight the first chilly nights in King’s Landing? Instead of a dreadful, drafty room? You had to choose, and picked the first option; unfortunately your husband isn’t on your same page.

Speaking of the Stranger, a rapid hail of knocks, hard and booming, falls on the sturdy wood of the locked doors.

“You are expected for dinner, wife!”

Aemond’s cold, angry tone carries through the door and you elect to ignore it.

“I’m not hungry, husband.”

You try to keep your tone light, pretending not to hear how cross he is with you.

You don’t know that outside, in the corridor, your husband is in the company of his brother, the king, his sister, the queen and the crown prince Daeron, who has come over from Oldtown for the wedding. Your sovereigns have accompanied their sibling in the hope to mediate this rift, so early in the marriage.

“If you don’t come out immediately, I will break down this door!"

“You can do as you wish, husband.”

“Perhaps you should try to be more courteous? No one wants to be addressed with such a tone.”

If Aemond didn’t love Helaena the way he does, he would have snarled at her, queen or not, instead he takes a big breathe, trying to douse the flames of rage burning in his chest.

All Targaryen siblings stare at Aegon with surprised eyes: where does this wisdom comes from?

“My wife is being extremely difficult.” He growls, low enough that you can’t hear him.

“You can win more battles with your wits than with your fists.”

Truth to be told, Aegon is trying not to laugh and be an arse towards Aemond; now that he’s king he genuinely wants to do better, but to witness Aemond lose his control because you have a spine of Valyrian steel, it’s not something he ever expected from you.

“Will you join us for dinner?”

Aemond is trying to keep his tone on a lighter note, gentler.

His fist almost connects with the door when you answer with a curt ‘No, thank you’, and all his siblings whisper to him to try and keep his composure.

“It would make all of us, me above all, very glad if you joined us. Please.”

His patience is hanging by a thread, one wrong word from you and he might explode.

“I am not hungry, I have already told you.”

Aemond doesn’t know if it’s your disrespect of his authority as your husband, or how disinterested you sound that throw fuel to the flames of his rage, not that he cares now that he can only see red.

“Then starve, wife! See if I care!”

With that he stomps away, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stone corridors.

Helaena stares at Aegon. If you asked Daeron, he’d tell you she looks like someone who is pondering very hard why she’s married to an idiot.

“How many days ago was the wedding ceremony?” Aegon murmurs.

“A month.” It’s Daeron’s laconic answer.

“Any insides from the Gods?”

From behind the locked doors, you’re burning with your own brand of anger: how dares Aemond address you in such a tone? You’re not a servant, you’re his wife! He promised to care for you, keep you safe and sound, only to forget his promise when the first issue appears on the horizon! Also: you don’t consider your request outlandish, if only he had been open to an adult discussion!

“They will need time, and patience, to find a common ground.” She answers.

“This marriage is doomed to a sad end, then.” The king says, heading to the huge dining room: he needs wine, and he needs it now!

When the marriage between you and Aemond was being arranged, you were happy and dismissed your sisters’ doubts about the union, mostly because they all were appalled by his looks, by his scar, the very characteristic you found captivating about your future husband.

You were sold on the marriage when you finally met him in person: tall and imposing, averse to stupid talks and apt with a sword, Aemond had piqued your interest to the point you forgot he had been marred as a child: you knew he was your match.

Despite having the blood of the dragon flowing through his veins, he had always been respectful of you, during the long courtship, focused on knowing you, once you arrived in King’s Landing, without being improper, which made you believe there could be some true interest, from him, that he wasn’t simply honoring his side of this political deal.

Even during the wedding, when your hands were shaking in his, he had stolen moments to murmur in your ear that he couldn’t stop the whole ordeal, but he could make sure the two of you would be present for the least amount of time needed; he had stopped the whole wedding cortège from entering his chamber, now your shared marital room, to assist to your first coupling. With a firm voice he had put his foot down, until every single person had left, and had calmed your fears, once you were both under the soft cotton of the bedding.

What went so wrong that such a good union, was already on shaky grounds after a month?

His bedroom.

The wedding night you didn’t had the chance to truly take in the room, you were running on too much adrenaline and too little food to truly notice anything but how sparse, and masculine, the furniture was.

The morning after you had woken up chilled, despite the blankets covering your half naked form, to a room without a hearth to fight the cold drafts you could feel attacking you from all sides. That same morning you had noticed that the arched windows opening on the side of the room had no glass panes to protect the room from the wind, or rain: why a person of the standing of Aemond could accept to sleep in such a dreadful place?

“What’s so wrong about it?”

He had asked you two nights later, as he was preparing to join you to bed.

He was still wearing his leather trousers and the linen undershirt; he had looked at you surprised, as he was carefully folding his jerkin, ready to lay it on a chair.

Inwardly, the way he shrugged off your concerns felt worse than him raising his voice at you, it made you feel as if you were lying about the very goosebumps adorning your skin, or how cold your hands felt, even through you were bundled in a thick dressing gown.

“It’s cold, and drafty, husband.”

“I don’t feel it.”

As a dutiful wife, you had tried to ignore the chill constantly present in your bones, even when you were in the company of your new family; you could be having tea with the dowager queen, or be chatting with the queen in her sunny room, surrounded by the tiny cages housing her small animals, and you’d still feel like you were freezing.

Your toppling point came a week after your wedding day, when you woke up with a sore throat, a runny nose and a fever. Your husband had been by your side, his menacing presence causing the Maesters to scurry about in fear for their lives, yet, when you told him that it was the drafty room you two were sharing that caused you this illness, he had stared into your eyes, and told you that you were in the wrong, that your marital chamber was perfect.

As soon as you felt like you could walk without the whole room spinning around you, you ordered your servants to move all your belongings, most of them still in your trunks, in a bigger room in the same wing, one left unused for years, but adorned with thick panes of glasses at the windows and a hearth so huge you could sit in it and don’t be scorched by the flames.

Late in the afternoon, when you had started organizing your belongings, your husband had entered your new room, his presence so hulking that your maids had squirreled and hid in the furthest corner they could find, with their eyes lowered, trembling like leaves in winter.

“What is the meaning of all of this, wife?”

For the first time, you could feel the displeasure in your husband’s voice, kicking years and years of teaching into overdrive: your first instinct was to find a way to please him, make him happy, the way you were told while growing up, then you could feel a sneeze climb its way up in your nose, shutting down the voice of your mother, already complaining in your head.

“I told you, husband, that I felt cold in our room, I have even fallen ill because of it. I asked you to change it to another and you denied my request. This is the only solution, since you love it, and I don’t.”

You’re desperately trying not to start a fight by keeping your tone light, but firm: you know your husband to be a smart man, one you had discussed issues upon issues during your betrothal, why this silly problem should be any different?

You can see the way his expression hardened and his stance resembled the one you saw him adopt in the courtyard, with his feet planted on the ground to carry his weight and his shoulders slightly hunched.

You had walked closer to him, planting yourself right in front of his bigger frame, head craned to look into his eye.

“You will order your maids to bring all your belongings back to our chambers. I will not hear another word about it.”

“No, I will not go back to that dreadful room.”

Silence fell, broken by his pensive hum.

“And I will not sleep without my wife by my side.”

“You are welcome to join me here, where it’s warmer.”

“Or you could be reasonable and put a stop to this nonsense.”

“The only unreasonable one is you, husband.”

He left without another word, and you expelled a breathe you didn’t know you were holding.

“Then it seems we are at an impasse.” He said, coldly.

“That we are.” You answered, crossing your arms in front of you.

You thought sleeping without you by his side would mellow him, would let him see your reasons, instead he was colder than ever, during a silent, and tense breakfast you shared with the dowager queen, who tried, fruitlessly to start a conversation with either of you two, to lighten the gloomy mood, without success.

“My brother is an idiot.”

The king had told you that same night, minutes before dinner.

“Good, because you are going to need it to win this battle.” His hand had landed swiftly on your shoulder, in a reassuring pat. “Your king is with you in this tussle.”

“Pardon, Your Grace?”

“Aemond. He’s as smart as he can be dense and stubborn.” Aegon had continued, offering you a goblet of wine.

“I can be as stubborn as he is, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

You had curtseyed briefly, not feeling the hard stare of your husband on your back.

You didn’t know it, later than night Aemond had cornered Aegon, needing to know his intentions towards you, barely curbing the desire to slam his brother against the wall for having touched you, not knowing that Aegon had no ill, or sexual, intent towards you, he was trying to do better, to be better.

Aegon’s casual tone had stroked Aemond’s rage.

“Which side are you on, Your Grace?” He had hissed the question from behind clenched teeth.

“The one that’s funnier, brother, and your wife is hilarious, I can assure you.”

“I will not accept disrespect being done towards my wife.” He said, his voice like a cold draft.

Aegon knew why Aemond didn’t trust him, he had never given him a reason to, yet he was still hurt by his brother’s low opinion of him.

“I have no ill intention towards your wife. I had only showed them my support, because you’re being daft and unreasonable, and you know that.”

That had hurt Aemond’s pride, that his deadbeat older brother felt that he had the grounds to criticize him, when it had always been the other way around, all because of you.

The morning after you had woken up feeling warmed and well rested.

One of your servants had already lighted up the fire and you knew a scolding hot bath was waiting for you in the adjoining bathroom. You felt bad at not having Aemond by your side, his abnormally hot body curled around yours, his lips kissing your nape before making love to you at the brink of dawn: it was unnatural to not sleep with you husband, yet, he had left you with no other option but take this direct, if somewhat, unusual approach.

You had hoped that another night spent apart would have mellowed Aemond or, at least, helped him look at your stance with a kinder heart. You were wrong.

You hadn’t seen him for the whole day, until the afternoon, when he came to his mother’s room, where you were knitting, sitting on a huge armchair right where the sun was shining. Both Alicent and Helaena were with you, engrossed in their own works, while the twins played with their maids.

Alicent tried to defuse the low current of tension in the air, even the twins were silent, as if waiting to see what would happen.

“Wife.” Came, low and controlled.

“Husband.” You glanced at him, your heart sinking when you saw his displeased expression.

“Is there something you need, Aemond?”

You had stopped knitting to stare hard at him.

“I was simply looking for my wife, mother.”

“You know where to find me, husband.”

He had hummed, staring at you with his lips pursed in a thin, white line of displeasure.

“I see you are still being foolish.”

“The only foolish person I see in this room is you, husband.”

That had been a hard blow, you could see it in the way he stiffly turned around to leave, without a word; you were embarrassed by his conduct, and yours, enraged that a silly issue like the one you two were badly navigating, would exacerbate in two days, because your arse of a husband wouldn’t do you the simple favor of listening to you.

“You are disobeying your vows of obedience, wife.”

“And you’re doing the same, with yours of protection.”

You had excused yourself and curtseyed before either of the women could stop you.

As soon as you had reached your room, you had curled on the bed to cry your anger and frustration, wondering how you were supposed to share the rest of your life with Aemond.

Deserting the family meals hadn’t been a conscious decision: you didn’t feel like eating, looking at your husband’s face or pretend in front of everyone else that night, or the morning after, you simply carried on staying in your room, or leaving your sanctuary to go walk in the gardens, anger and sadness churning in your belly with every day your husband seemingly ignored your absence. Granted, you could have gone to him, tried to discuss the matter civilly, but why should you? He had been the deaf oaf, he should be the one to come and talk to you!

You didn’t know the way he struggled with his own anger, and loneliness how, for the first time since his late father assigned him this room, he felt as if cold was seeping in his bones, now that you didn’t sleep in his arms.

Why were you so impossible? So stubborn and childish? You were supposed to obey him, not put your feet down so strongly that his brother had started asking him, with unconfined glee, when you would grace the family with your presence, why his beloved good sister wouldn’t eat supper with them all. Aemond had to put his own grandsire into his place, when the old man had told him that your union was ill matched, that Aemond had to send you back to your family: Otto would never know how close Aemond had been to cut his tongue for his indiscretion, stopping only because the old man was family.

You were supposed to built a shared nest for you and him, not cut him off, because he didn’t want to adhere to your childish whims!

“You’re not going to win this one.” Aegon had told him one afternoon.

The king was hiding from the dreadful pile of paperwork he was supposed to sign, deciding to go where no one would search for him: the library.

“You should mind your work, Your Grace.” Aemond had hissed. “The whole realm needs your attention, not my wife.”

Aegon had rolled his eyes and sat next to his brother.

“Your wife is my subject, their well being is my concern.”

Aegon knew he shouldn’t have smirked, he couldn’t help himself though: it had been such a surprise to see how much Aemond was moping, because his brother had always been very reserved with his life, rarely had he openly expressed his emotions; it took this disagreement to show Aegon that his brother couldn't, indeed, have the perfect control over himself.

“I know what’s better for my family.”

The way Aemond had closed the book, his hand a white knot of anger around the old leather told Aegon it was time for him to find another hiding place.

“You don’t. Since you’re here, and your wife is not.”

Days had passed, a wall of unsaid words and anger slowly grew tall and impossible to climb: what were you supposed to do? And why should you make the first step towards reconciliation?

You hear Aemond’s footsteps stomp away from your door, followed by all of his siblings and your stomach closes tighter than it did before: you weren’t lying when you told Aemond you weren’t hungry.

It takes your upset stomach hours before the painful knot that forces you to curl into yourself on the bed, loosens enough for you to feel some semblance of hunger, strong enough to convince you to walk down to the kitchen, in search of some food.

You walk on light feet, making sure the guards patrolling the corridors don’t see you, loathing the thought of having to explain yourself to the men.

The kitchen area is enormous, and quiet, dying candles and the log slowly consuming itself in the hearth, illuminate the room and the furniture; thanks to the chatter of your maids, you know where everything is, the left-over, the plates and cutlery.

Mindful of the large sleeves of your dressing gown, you choose the food you think your stomach will manage: you have been living off tea and fruits, even now that you’re hungry, you fear your stomach will betray you.

Carefully you grab the tray and head back to your room, where you hope to curl next to the fire to eat, and to go to bed with a lighter heart.

You’re so focused on not letting anything fall, wondering how the servants manage to carry out those tasks, always in a hurry, that you don’t realize you’re not the only one who can’t sleep.

Aemond hasn’t even tried to fall asleep tonight, knowing all too well that he will spend most of the night staring at the ceiling, or tossing and turning, falling into an uneasy slumber when the first rays of light grace the sky.

He had always been a light sleeper, partly due to the constant pain in his face, partly because he knows that danger can come from any direction, but he had rarely issues with falling asleep, more so when he is as tired as he feels; he is not an idiot, he knows that his body needs yours next to him to find peace again.

It’s not only the sexual urge to be rooted inside of you, to listen to your sighs and moans of pleasure, but also waking up with your fresh smell in his nostrils, your silky skin under his roughened palms: you have changed the habits he had formed in a lifetime in a couple of weeks, and now he doesn’t know, doesn’t want to go back to the way life was before.

As your husband he is aware that he has the right to request your presence, that no one would bat an eye if he were to storm into your chambers to drag you back where you belong, or simply satisfy his lust to the send you back to your chambers. There’s a problem, though: he doesn’t want to. He loathes the idea of forcing you to sleep with him, he wants you willing, responsive to his touch, the way you had been before this rift.

If he simply wanted to empty his stones, he would have gone in any brothel to find that kind of satisfaction, what his restless mind, and body, are seeking is your presence, soothing and calming, like a balm for his nerves.

He decides to sneak down in the kitchen, instead of sending his personal servants, because he needs to move, to burn off some of this energy that he can’t seem to shake off, even after punishing training: he might as well find some warm water he can use to make himself tea, using the leaves the Maesters have advised him to use whenever the left side of his face starts to hurt more than usual.

Like you, he walks in the shadows, light on his feet, and he’s surprised to see movement in the kitchen. He’s dumbfounded when he sees you, clad in a forest green dressing gown, focused on organizing the food on the plates; he thinks that you’re pretty in the dying light of the fire, that the earthy tones you use for your clothing make you appear even more warm and comely, stroking the flames of his need, and longing, for you.

He retreats in the shadows when you walk through the open door; you’re so focused on the task you’re carrying out, that you don’t feel his presence and keep walking to your room.

With feet that are even more light than before, Aemond follows you, drinking down your lovely form the way a castaway would a jug of fresh water: he’s missed seeing you walking around the corridors and the gardens, or in the courtyard when he trains.

It feels like years ago that you were there, clad in a yellow dress that reminded him of the autumn foliage, clapping your hands and smiling at him: why you don’t want to go back to that? Why won’t you just see that he, Aemond, is right? That there’s no issue but your stubborn personality?

He waits until you’re inside your chambers, your back to the still open door, to enter and close it without a noise.

He hadn’t been in your chambers since the day you had moved your belongings here. His eye roams the room, enjoying the elegant way you have adorned it, the furniture you have chosen, and how the pillows and blankets give a homely look to the old place.

He notices that your personal writing desk, the one your father sent you from your childhood room, stands near the huge hearth, opposite to the padded settee and the short tea table, where you have placed the tray.

He thinks that you look truly happy without him and bile rises in his throat.

“I thought you weren’t hungry, wife.”

A petty party of himself rejoices when you jump in surprise and turn around with a hand closing the neck of your dressing gown.

“And I was led to believe you didn’t care if I starved myself to death, husband.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest, you haven’t been this close, and alone, with Aemond in days; you’re nervous and angry at yourself for the longing you feel in your heart.

Silence falls between you two, broken only by the creaking of the fire.

“May help you with something, husband?”

You know that your voice is as cold as ice, you wouldn’t have it any other way: if he’s here to sleep with you, like he would with a common whore, you want him to know he’s not welcome.

With long, slow strides, Aemond walks the length of the room, his long fingers light on the furniture and blankets, until he’s standing in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to look at him.

“You have made yourself home, I see, all cozy.”

His voice is as cutting as yours to hide the pain.

How could you believe such a lie?

“Someone has to take care of me, since my husband doesn’t care about my well being.”

“You know that’s not true, wife.” He hisses.

You grab both his hands, stabbing his skin with your nails.

“Is it, though? I remember telling you time and time again how cold I found your room, I even fell ill, only for you to ignore the issue.”

“You’re still exaggerating, there’s no problem with my chambers!”

“Can’t you feel how warmer I am? Can’t you tell the difference from before?”

You try to control the rising emotions storming in your chest, the tears that want to tumble down your cheeks: why is he making this harder than it should be?

He’s not doing it on purpose, simply your skin had always felt colder to him because he isn’t capable of telling the difference: he runs too hot to truly notice, something all of Targaryens struggle with. Even his own mother’s hands had always felt cooler, whenever she would cup his face, it’s the same with you.

“You don’t feel any different, wife.”

He knows he’s said something wrong when you let go of his hands and turn around to face the fire, your shoulders trembling as if you were trying not to cry.

“Then I don’t think there’s anything else to say.”

You hate how small your voice sounds, how lonely you feel now that you have the incontrovertible proof that your husband doesn’t care about you.

Behind you Aemond is panicking, unable to understand why your words seem to have hurt you so deeply; he hasn’t said anything offensive, why are you shutting him out again?

Without thinking he grabs your arms to try and force you to turn around and look at him, stopping when you stiffen in his grasp.

“I don’t understand, wife.” He says, feeling like the words are forced out of his mouth. “Why are you acting this way?”

You evade his grasp to turn around and look at him with accusing eyes, full of anger and tears, your mouth twisted in an ugly snarl that bares your teeth like the ones of a savage beast.

“You don’t understand? You don’t understand?”

You try to push him away, to no avail, he’s too heavy to move, prompting you to hit his chest with your fists, until he grabs your wrist in a tight hold, fearing you would hurt yourself.

Your angers grows tenfold now that he’s restricting your movements and he’s not letting you evade his grasp again.

“How can you be so callous?” You scream in his face. “So uncaring? Let me go!”

Blinded by tears you can’t see Aemond’s pained expression: he’s surprised by the hate he hears in your words, he can’t believe you think he doesn’t care about you; you two have been fighting over nothing, he believed, why are you acting this way now?

His long arms curl around your body, forcing your face against the soft cotton of his undershirt, where you cry even more when his familiar scent attacks your senses: you missed him so much, the knowledge feels like a stab now that you know he doesn’t care about you.

Aemond genuinely doesn’t know what to do, what’s expected of him, or what he’s supposed to say to make you stop cry so desperately. Anything, he’d do anything if that meant you stopped pushing him away.

Still holding you tight, he helps you kneel on the soft rug, rocking both your bodies until he hears your dry hiccups.

You try to push him away with your hands trapped against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let me go.” You manage to say, voice hoarse and small, muffled by his undershirt.

“No, I will not.” His arms tighten reflexively. “Not until you explain yourself to me.”

Oh Gods, you thought Aemond couldn't break whatever pieces were left of your heart, and he just did.

“Why would I try to explain myself, when you don’t care?”

“How can you say such a thing?”

“I can and I do, because it’s all you’ve been showing me: that I have an issue and you tell me you don’t see it, you’re not even open to discussing it! And even when I try to look after myself, because you showed me you wouldn’t, all you can do is be a stubborn oaf.” You extricate yourself from his arms, looking at him with puffy eyes. “Tell me, husband, why would I try to explain myself to you, when you don’t want to listen?”

Aemond Targaryen is many things: rider of the largest dragon in the known world, renowned swordsman and man of letters. He knows he can be as stubborn as Vhagar is, but he also knows he’s not an idiot, maybe daft, when his own pride is in the way of his intelligence, but not a downright imbecile, he’s not Aegon.

“I might have misread the whole issue, wife.”

He knows this is the understatement of the century. It’s still going to be the closest thing to a ‘I am sorry’ you’re going to get from him.

For the first time since this quarrel began, you feel he’s willing to listen to you.

You take a big breathe before you start talking.

“Your room is cold, Aemond. I don’t know why you don’t feel it, but I was freezing all the time, even bundled up in my warmest clothes. I fell ill, and still you treated me like a capricious child, not like a wife who is trying to solve a problem with their husband. You didn’t care about my discomfort, Aemond, you shrugged your shoulders at me: what was I supposed to do, when my husband showed me he didn’t care? I tried to find a solution that could be right for us both: I wouldn't freeze and you could stay in your beloved chambers.”

Yes, he realizes, he has been an utter at complete imbecile.

You weren’t antagonizing him because you couldn’t adjust into your new position, you weren’t acting unreasonable (that’s what he had thought when you had moved your belongings here) or spoiled, when you had told him you found his room drafty and cold: you had an issue he had completely overlooked and misunderstood. Then his pride won over his intelligence and a small issue had become a real threat to your union, something he can’t accept from himself.

Still, he’s not going to say he’s sorry.

He stops to look into your eyes, still red but lacking the anger and distrust.

“I sincerely didn’t feel the cold…”

“I don’t want to have that discussion again.” You stop him.

“Neither do I, wife. I say it because I never feel it. I am always warm, even during the coldest winters. I thought you’d acclimate yourself, that you would get used to it. Since you didn’t, and, as much as the architects can work on my chambers, they will always feel colder than the rest of the wing, which can’t satisfy your needs, we need to find a solution.”

And we could have been doing that since I moved, you want to say but keep it for yourself; in his own way, Aemond had admitted to his faults, which is something you couldn’t think would happen, not after those two awful weeks.

“I love my chambers, but I care about your well being, and our marriage more. The rooms you have chosen for yourself are big enough to house us both.”

“The mural above your bed, the painters can copy it here.”

“Only if you’re happy to share these chambers with me.”

“I am. It’s all I wanted from the start.”

“Would you let me sleep with you tonight, my wife?”

He hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll let him show you how sorry he feels, since he’s too prideful to say it.

“Yes, my husband, sleep with me tonight, and all the nights that will follow.”

He smiles, happy that you two have reconciled.

Tomorrow he’ll think of an excuse to use with the rest of the family to explain why he’s moving here, with you, now his only goal is to make up for the weeks spent apart.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose @thought--bubble

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen

287 notes · View notes

listofwhyyouloveher · 6 months ago

Note

could you do the greasers with a busty s/o?

Summary: The Outsiders x Busty!Reader

Warnings:none

Author's Note: none

PONYBOY CURTIS

Pony definitely does not care if his partner has been well endowed, he's more of a personality guy, as pretentious as that sounds

He's not going to treat you differently based on your cup size, he's still a good boyfriend all around

He's very caring and gentle, massaging your back whenever it pains you and stuff like that

He's also making sure that none of the gang catcall you/try and make a move on you.

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny is also like Pony in the sense that he doesn't care about body shape, as long as you're acceptable by Dallas, you're good.

Of course Johnny turns to Dallas about Every. Single. Thing, for advice, so he's always telling you some weird joke about your body and then immediately apologizes after

He's really trying to be nice and to be someone that you'd want but he just doesn't know how

SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda likes that you look like a model, he's always complimenting you constantly, telling your that you're gorgeous etc.

He's really laying it on thick because he realllly likes you, mostly your face and personality but he thinks the body is a plus

He really likes cuddling with you too, he finds it fun to lay on your chest and he says it's "like a pillow"

Like Pony, he'll also massage your back when it hurts, generally just wants you to be as comfortable as possible

STEVE RANDLE

Steve is almost as dirty minded as Dallas, especially when it comes to the girl he's currently dating (you)

He's obviously very obsessed with your body, complimenting you whenever he can and getting you form fitting clothes

Other than that he's really treating you no differently than he would any other girlfriends, with the utmost respect etc.

Steve really likes to show you off, make sure everyone knows you're gorgeous and your his

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two likes girls who are the epitome of feminine beauty, and you fit into that wonderfully, not just because of your body too

He likes when you wear babydoll dresses because it makes you look like an elegant princess

He's obviously getting you clothes that he thinks would look cute on you and even his mom got some for you

He also likes to sleep on your chest and he tells you that cuddling with you is one of the best things ever.

DARRY CURTIS

Darry also likes to give you back massages when your back hurts, it's a Curtis brother thing.

Generally, he doesn't care what you look like, as long as you're sweet and caring and you work well with Pony and Soda

He finds you very gorgeous but the only way you'd be able to tell is because there's always a little blush on his cheeks when he sees you

He works very hard to find clothes that both fit you and your style and to make you feel beautiful

DALLAS WINSTON

You and Dallas are such a crazy couple because the gang obviously thought Dally would try and go out with you but no one thought you'd say yes

It's a very rough beginning of the relationship, he's hyperfixated on your body and how having you compliments his reputation

People may call you crazy for sticking with him but if they saw how your relationship was now they might still call you crazy, but less so

He's less of a jerk about complimenting and flaunting you, instead he's whistling at you from across the street, yelling "hey babydoll, wanna come back to mine" and stuff like that, of course it's something you agreed upon.

ALSO!! he fight anyone who tries to make a move on you and catcalls you!!

#shroomsroom #two bit x reader #clara'sroom #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #steve randle x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #darry curtis x reader #two bit mathews x reader #two bit matthews x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader

413 notes · View notes

3mcwriting · 6 days ago

Text

three simple words

soft!bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

tw: cursing, blood, pain (not too much? also it has a happy ending dw)

It took him two years to figure out.

In the midst of the villain attacks, the war, and general chaos of his first year at UA, Bakugou Katsuki was focused on conflicts just slightly more important than whatever stupid fucking feelings and stupid shitty butterflies kept invading whenever you smiled in his direction.

So yeah, he didn't realize in his first year.

Even when you sat with him, silent and still, as he raged, as he screamed into the night sky, and eventually, as he grieved that the world's greatest Hero was gone, gone, gone--and it was his fault--even then, he did not realize.

He knew you cared.

You had never bothered to hide it.

But when you said good night to him that night, looking moments away from hugging him and dammit, why did you look so upset?, he was the one to reach out.

It was impulsive and sentimental and fucking embarrassing--but he didn't regret it. Not when you wrapped your arms around him, not when you whispered something akin to "I got you, Katsuki" despite the fact that you were just some shitty extra, what made you think you could call him Katsuki? Who were you to say something so sentimental and mushy to him?

But he did not regret it the next day when he saw you and you smiled at him.

The year went by, the villains came and went, the scars piled up.

His classmates had aged in that time, in those months of fear, of chaos, of loss, and of pain.

You did not grow closer.

Bakugou spoke with you only twice in that year outside of the heat of battle. Sure, there was always an acknowledgement of his presence when you saw him, but for the most part, you kept to yourself.

But time passed, and that night where you held him while his world fell apart began to fade, softly, slowly, like a dream from his childhood. Even if some days he looked at you and swore that his stupid heart had fucking stopped, he didn't speak with you again.

Not until you almost died for him, that is.

It was a big fight. He couldn't remember much of that day, one of his classmates telling him that it could have been because of the trauma. That his mind was trying not to remember what happened to protect him.

He scoffed when he heard it.

Trauma? Protect him?

Bakugou Katsuki was stronger than all of that.

But even as he scoffed at such words, he knew something had happened.

Yes, he didn't remember much of that day, but he remembered how it ended.

He remembered the way you looked as you were dying.

He remembered the blood, the pain, all of it.

And most of all, he remembered that stupid smile you had on your lips, glistening like a ruby with the blood that was falling from them.

"I got you, Katsuki."

He knew you had done it to save him.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't supposed to happen.

He was supposed to be the one broken and bleeding out.

Bakugou was there when you woke up, weeks later. You had been put in a medically-induced coma as the doctors healed you. They said you'd been seconds from death. All he knew was that he didn't see your eyes or your smile for a long time, and that he would've done just about anything to change that.

The day you woke up he cried.

Not in front of you.

No, he hadn't become quite that pathetic.

Your eyes were droopy, you still looked utterly exhausted and he knew he should just let you rest.

"Why would you do something so fucking stupid?"

His voice was harsh in the quiet room, broken as your body on that day, and nearly as pain filled. You didn't say anything about the vulnerability in it.

"What else would I do?"

"Let me fight my own battles. Look at yourself. You weren't- It could've been different."

You knew there was more to it, he could tell. It wasn't his pride that had kept him at your bedside in all this time.

"I wouldn't change it, Katsuki."

When he went to bed that night, he fell asleep on a damp pillow.

And so time passed.

You recovered.

He stayed away.

In his second year, he continued training, working, becoming the best. He was strength, power, and rage--he was Bakugou Katsuki.

And all it took was one look from you for his brain to stop working.

He watched from afar as you recovered, as you became stronger by the day. Slowly and painfully, you remade yourself. And you became someone even better than before.

You opened up, and by the time you were cleared to train like normal, you had a class full of friends and a near permanent smile.

You even tried to talk to him more.

Every time you approached, he scowled, but the moment you smiled at him, he was lost once again.

You'd ask him to hangout, ask him if he wanted any help on homework, if he wanted to study together, "oh did you see that new ramen shop that opened up? we should go!", and he said no every time.

But he still trained with you the most out of everyone, watching how strong you'd become, and feeling a tightness in his chest whenever he saw one of the scars you'd gathered the day you saved him. He didn't know how, but you seemed to understand him better than anyone.

It took you getting a boyfriend for him to understand himself.

All those times his breathing stuttered or his heart stopped, or whatever stupid ass thing happened when you smiled, he ignored.

He ignored it until you kissed Shinsou Hitoshi in the hallway of the dorms.

It was light, nothing more than a peck on the lips really, but the moment he saw, he felt as if he'd been punched in the fucking chest by stupid Deku. You didn't see his retreating figure.

When he was back in his room, he clutched his chest.

He'd never felt pain quite like that before.

When he didn't come out for dinner and no one had seen him at breakfast the next day, Kirishima stopped by.

"Bro, are you okay?" Kirishima's concerned voice came through the door. "I'm coming in, don't be naked."

"I'm not naked, dumbass," Bakugou said, no real heat in his voice.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn. When Kirishima turned on the light, Bakugou barely reacted.

"What's wrong?" There was no mocking in Kiri's voice, nothing but concern when he saw how listless his best friend was.

"I think I fucked up."

"What do you mean?"

I think I love her.

He hadn't told Kirishima that at the time, but somehow the fucker figured it out anyway.

Bakugou's third year rolled around.

And he stopped sabotaging himself. He stopped being a fucking coward and rejecting your attempts at friendship, he stopped acting like a moody little emo shit, and he finally became your friend.

Although that word never felt right to him.

Not because he was in love with you, although that probably didn't help, but because since the moment you hugged him during first year, you had become something more than just a friend.

He didn't change too much outwardly. He still yelled. He still cussed. He still fucked up villains.

But he also helped Denki study for his classes, he trained with Deku of his own volition, and he maybe even once or twice told Kirishima that he was his best friend.

And he also fell deeper in love with you.

He also realized that being stupid about your relationship with Shinsou wasn't worth pushing you away as a friend.

It wasn't easy, though.

He was a jealous, angry ass bastard, scared of the power you had over him and the depth of his feelings.

But lashing out didn't make him feel any better.

(Still, when you broke up with that purple-haired bastard in the beginning of third year, he smiled all day)

You'd said something about the relationship being nothing more than puppy love, that it was fun and Shinsou was a wonderful person, but that you and him both agreed to simply be friends instead.

All Bakugou focused on was that you were happy, whats-his-face was no longer your boyfriend, and that you were smiling at him.

"Hey, Bakubro! You should totally ask her out, dude," Kirishima had an entirely too bright grin on his face.

Bakugou, finally feeling as if he had a chance, didn't even tell him to shut up. He did, however, immediately begin thinking about what shit you'd like to do on a date.

The only problem was that Bakugou had no fucking experience with romance.

Even that fucker Deku had a boyfriend.

But one night he woke up to a knock on his door.

"Hey, Katsuki." Your voice stopped him from yelling 'Piss off!' for waking him up.

Instead, he grabbed a shirt and pulled it on before going to the door.

"What're you doing? It's three in the morning." He was wide awake for you, but he wanted to know why. If it was anyone else, there would've been at least three expletives thrown into those sentences, but even woken up in the middle of the night, his voice was soft for you.

"I know, I just wanted to show you something." He was glad it was dark because the sincerity and excitement of your words made red craw up his face.

"I, uh, just give me a couple minutes," Bakugou was nawt going to hang out with you with sleep breath.

"Oh, yeah, I'll wait."

Bakugou went to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth before putting on some clean sweats and shirt.

"Are you ready?" You were whispering, but he could still hear the excitement in your voice. He was about to respond when you grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Any response stalled in his throat.

You brought him to the quad outside the dorms and finally stopped in front of a couple things that looked something like--where the hell did you get fireworks?

"Are you ready, Katsuki?" you asked, mischief making your eyes glow.

He cracked a smile. "The hell did you setup?"

"Just a couple of little fireworks. Hatsume made them for me." The grin on your face was straight up devious and he had never had a stronger urge to kiss you then he did at that moment. "Wanna light them with me?"

If it was with you, then yes.

So the two of you lit the fireworks and as you stepped back, you grabbed his hand again, holding it while you watched. Katsuki couldn't help but watch you as the fireworks went. Lights bathed his surroundings, throwing blue and red and countless other colors around, but all he could focus on was you.

"Hey, I wanted you to watch them," you said, looking at him. "They're for you."

And that statement made him blush hard enough that he immediately turned his face to the sky so you wouldn't see. But it didn't last long. As the last firework went up, he turned his face to look at you.

And he found you looking back.

"I think I might be in love with you," you said softly, something akin to awe in your eyes, but nothing less than complete sincerity in your voice.

Bakugou couldn't think for a second. All he knew was that you were here, you brought these fireworks for him, you comforted him on the worst night of his life, you nearly died to save his life, and that you might love him.

"For the last two years, I've started and ended each day with the thought of you." Katsuki's words shocked himself, but he couldn't regret it. "I don't know what it's like anymore, to not be in love with you. And I don't want to know.

You stepped closer, eyes wide. "Do you mean it?"

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he said, the nerves finally coming.

And you kissed him.

When it was over, he mumbled something against your lips.

"I got you."

"WHO IS SETTING OFF FIREWORKS AT THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING?"

i wrote this for funsies and finished it in one sitdown, hope u all liked it!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katuski x reader

220 notes · View notes

wasitforrevenge · 9 months ago

Text

oh sweetheart pt 4

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 6.6k

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: boxer!ellie, fighting/boxing, flirting, blood, weed, alcohol, joel is dead in this :(, kissing, sexual interaction (almost im getting there pls!) talk of abusive relationships, cheating mentioned, smoking, talk of death, talk of mourning (lmk if im forgetting anything) ellie likes coffee lol, also i post w no specific character descriptions besides being female :)

summary: you and ellie spend the day together, your luck turns and you both realize you’re not alone anymore.

author notes: hi guys sorry this is later than expected! got a promotion at work and it’s kept me a bit busy, but reader talking ab her ex gf???? there’s no name yet for a reason (hint hint) and with that i just want to say that personas of a character im writing do not reflect back on the actual character and it’s just a plot twist i thought id throw in for later down the line! anyways pls forgive me for being late i pulled an all nighter and i finished this so i will go back and edit soon! thank you for reading! pls comment like reblog and follow!

part 1 | part 2 | part 2.5 | part 3

series masterlist | main masterlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

the sun beamed from the window in your bedroom, creating a pattern of light shining across your comforter. your eyes flutter open as you were took in the brightness covering your room. you cursed yourself in your head for not closing the curtains. you looked at the clock that was reading 8:48am,.

you realized you definitely drank too much last night and now you’re suffering the consequences. you take a little while to gather yourself before you went to get up from your bed, throwing the blankets over the top of you to sit up. all you wanted to do was think about last night as you were interrupted by the sight of her tattooed arm, resting over your waist holding you against her, you being unable to move as thoughts of last night played in your head as you try to ignoring the pounding.

ellie.

you guys outside smoking last night enjoying each others company. the way she got so close to your lips that you could feel her breath. ellie and you hanging out at the bar with dina and jesse. ellie walking you home and giving you her jacket. her agreeing to come up to your apartment, the tension that floated in the air every second you were each other. the way sweetheart rolled off her tongue when she talked you. getting high on your couch and kissing her as she pulled you on top of her. the way the she moved your hair out of your face before falling asleep. admitting to her that you liked her and that she felt the same way about you.

she liked you.

ellie stirred, arm around you as you were caught up in your thoughts. you heard her take breathe deep in her sleep as she pulled you even closer, your back pressing against her chest. you couldn’t believe this was happening. you and ellie fell asleep in your bed last night. kissing her and being with her has clouded your thoughts since you met her and now…. she has her arm around your waist fast asleep breathing you in.

the way your lips would connect with hers, if they would move perfectly in sync with each, fitting like two puzzle pieces together. how her heavy hands traced inches of your body, sliding her hands up and down your hips and thighs…

your eyes felt droopy as you got comfortable against ellie, drowning in the scent of her that took over your sheets and pillows. you cuddled into ellie’s strong chest that she held you against her. you moved your own arm to lay across hers as you fell back to sleep, now remembering everything that happened last night and what led to this moment of you waking up next to each other.

a couple hours, you stir around and wake yourself, only to find the bed empty. your heart drops realizing ellie was gone and didn’t say goodbye. did she not mean what she said last night? you told her you liked her and she left. overthinking was your specialty.

as you pulled the blankets over your head ready to sulk the entire day in end over what happened, you decided you were going to shower the night off before you spent the hours upset. you got up and headed into your bathroom, turned on the shower and got undressed. you took about thirty minutes washing your hair and body, despite not wanting to wash off the scent of ellie that you were wrapped in. you turned off the shower, got out and dried off as wrapped yourself in a huge fuzzy pink towel and as opened the door to your bedroom, you saw her.

ellie was there sitting on your bed facing the bathroom door, with two coffee mugs in her hand.

“good morning sweetheart,” she spoke softly.

“hi els,” you blushed, “i thought you left..” you told her shyly.

“i wouldn’t just leave after last night,” she responded, “i told you we’d talk sweetheart.”

“yes you did,” you utter, looking at her as you smiled sweetly and adjusted the towel around you.

“do you want to go to breakfast?” she asked, “theres this nice diner by my apartment if you wanted to walk.”

“yes that sounds perfect el!” you said, excited at the sound of food in your stomach.

you told ellie you’d get dressed and meet her in the living room. she left the room and you walked over to your dresser. your thoughts piled as your picked out your outfit.

she stayed. ellie stayed. your mood changed at the sight of her and you were so glad that last night meant something and you weren’t just drunk. flashes of ellie laying in your bed as she faced you and the way she touched you, the way her skin felt on yours. it was intoxicating.

you changed and left your bedroom to find ellie sitting on your couch. she was focused on avatar the last air-bender streaming over your large tv screen. (the animated series ofc!) she reached to get the coffee she made and handed it to you as you took a seat next to her.

“i love this show.” you spoke as you wrapped your hands around the cup and sipped on your still warm coffee.

“yeah toph is so badass- the best part of the show,” ellie laughed.

you guys finished the episode in comfortable silence until you spoke up and asked ellie if she still wanted to get breakfast. she said yes as she took her last sip, held her hand out motioning for your mug. you handed it to her as both got up. her putting them both in your kitchen sink and you grabbed your tote bag from your bedroom. ellie grabbed her bookbag from your living floor and threw it over her shoulder as she met you by your entry area. you both exited your apartment and you started the walk to the cafe, ellie leading you since she knew the way.

as you walked, ellie talked about jurassic park which she just watched the other day and how she loved the movie series which lead to her telling you about the time she went to a history museum for her birthday when she was 15, how exciting it was seeing the dinosaurs up close and she managed to spill at least 20 dinosaur facts in half the walk.

she told you about the space section they had and how fucking cool it was to sit in the space shuttle they had there. you laugh as she tells you that she’s gonna be the next person who goes to space. she points out the spaceship pin she has on her backpack, telling you its one of her favorite things she’s ever been gifted.

you loved hearing ellie talk about the things that she loves. she told you she collects superhero cards and reads comics, “like a nerd” she said. she tells you about her favorite songs to play on guitar. she told you she can’t wait to play for you sometime. ellie asked you about your favorite songs, mentally taking note of them because she will be teaching herself how to play one to impress you.

as you continue walking, you take in the scenery surrounding you on the street you walked. your eyes spotted the wire benches that were spaced out throughout the street, the flower stand on a far corner ahead, and the small gas station and convenience store up ahead. as you made it a bit further, you saw a bookstore coming up on the corner as you and ellie walked side by side. “oh my god ellie! do you mind if we go in?” you asked.

“yeah i love this place,” she responded as she opened the door for you to walk in. the bell chimed and you were amazed at the sight of the long book shelves that covered the walls and littered in columns down the center. there was a section of comfy chairs towards the back you could see peeking out behind a cart of books waiting to be unloaded. you see plants hanging from the ceiling in front of the tall windows towards the side of the bookshop.

“ellie! oh my gosh! how nice to see you!” you heard as you followed the sound of the voice. it was a short older lady probably around her 60s, with long grey hair and she walked with a cane. she made her way over and engulfed ellie in a hug. “oh my! how have you been?” the lady said as she pulled away, “and who’s this lovely lady?” as she grabbed your hand to shake.

ellie laughed as she said, “miss ashley, this is y/n.”

“oh you’re lovely!” the sweet old lady said towards you, “ellie doesn’t bring people around so its nice to see she has some friends, especially such pretty ones!” miss ashley laughed and gave you a warm smile.

ellie blushed, “ash please… don’t embarrass me,” she said jokingly putting face into her hands.

“oh nonsense! im just making conversation!” she exclaimed as she let go of your hands, “its so nice to meet you!”

“its nice to meet you too miss ashley!” you responded.

“oh please that makes me feel old, just call me ash! i insist please,” she laughed.

“okay ash,” you smiled, “i love this place, this is what i imagine heaven feels like.” you laughed.

“well you wouldn’t be happening to be looking for a job, would you?” she joked but your attention was caught as soon as she said those words.

“you’re hiring?” you said almost shocked. you didn’t want to get your hopes up but you’ve been looking for a job since you moved here and you’ve been having no luck. but this place… it was unbelievably beautiful and you could only imagine the peace you would feel working in a place like this.

“yes!” ash said to you, “since my husband passed, its getting hard to keep up with everything, i’ve been looking for the right person to help, ellie helps in her free time, but i cant make her do everything and theres no much i can without some help most days.” she said sounding a little defeated at the mention of her husband.

“well i’d love to come help! this would be great for both of us,” you said towards ash but your eyes met ellie as you spoke, hoping you didn’t cross a boundary with ellie.

“well think about it and get back to me!,” she said and then continued, “now go look around girls! i’ve got something something to do back in the office, but don’t leave without saying goodbye!” she said as she disappeared to a side room behind the cashier counter.

ellie looked at you and tried to apologize, for what miss ashley said and that she hoped she wasn’t too forward, but you just laughed and said that it was funny, and that you didn’t mind the sweet old lady who clearly loved her and meant no harm. curiosity got the best of you as you asked ellie how she knows the lady who might be the nicest person you’ve ever met.

“i actually live in the building next door,” she started as you guys made your way down an isle of fiction books but you stopped in your tracks and interrupted her, “you practically live above a bookstore that’s so cool el!”

“yeah i guess it is, i’ve known her since we moved, my dad was friends with her husband, so we used to come here all the time, it’s one of my favorite places.” ellie told you, “it would be cool for you to work here, i know you’re looking and i wish i could do more to help her but she seems to love you already.” she finished.

“are you sure that’s okay? you’ve just known her for so long and you live righ-“

she cut off your rambling off, “sweetheart it’s actually a great idea and i think you should take it.” she smiled at you as you both continued down the isles, you found a book you’ve had on your list and you picked it up to purchase. ellie and you came across the comic book section and she practically squealed in excitement as she held up a comic that read savage starlight. it was crazy seeing this badass boxer geeking out over comic books, space snd dinosaurs. you never would have thought it but it just makes you like her more.

“oh fuck yeah! i don’t have this one! this is my favorite series ever.” ellie told you smiling.

you guys made your way up to the counter and placed down the book and comic. ellie reached to hit the little bell since ash was in the back still. she made her way out of the back and her face lit up again when she saw you guys.

“hi ladies! is this all?” she spoke as she picked up the merchandise and clicked the price in her outdated sale system.

you opened your bag and grabbed your wallet. ellie tried to beat you to pulling out hers but you put her hand over hers and pushed it down, giving her a smile.

then you pulled out a 20 and handed it over. ash smiled as she finished the transaction, gave you the change and told you thank you.

“id actually like to take you up on the job offer, this place seems so cool!” you responded.

“oh yes! it would be a great help! you can come back on wednesday around 11 for your first shift! we’ll sort paperwork and stuff out then! thank you so much again!” the little lady said across the counter as she handed you your paper bag with ellies comic and your book.

“sounds perfect! i will see you then!” you said.

ellie said goodbye to her and she came around the counter to give you both a hug before you headed out of the store and continued the walk to the cafe.

“well it looks like im employed now, this is exciting” you said as you grabbed ellies hands in yours.

“it looks as so sweetheart, im excited for you!” she said as she squeezed her hand in yours, “now lets eat? and this time i’m paying, to celebrate!”

she then turned you around with a spin to see the cafe to the side of you. it was a cute retro diner that looked like it was straight out of the 90s. how does ellie know the best places? she’s unbelievable, you thought in your head, not being able to stop the smile growing on your face as you looked at her with your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

ellie laughed as she held the door for you as you both walked in and saw a seat yourself sign. you leaded the way across the checker print floor to the last booth in the corner of the right side of the diner, right next to the window.

ellie followed behind you and watched as you picked that booth. the red booth her and joel used to sit at every single they came here. the booth she spent years sitting at with the man who was gone forever. ellie felt her chest tighten as you took the side she always sat in, leaving ellie the spot that held so many images of her late father. she couldn’t blame you, its not like you were aware of the memories this particular booth held. but ellie couldn’t help that it hurt.

you noticed a sudden change in ellie when she didn’t respond to you as you asked if she had any idea what she wanted as you guys slid into the booth across each other.

“hey el?” you tried to get her attention but she was off in her own head.

you reached over and held her hand which is stopped her fidgeting with the other and she finally looked up at you.

“ellie are you okay?”

“yeah sweetheart… this is just- this booth holds a lot of memories.” she spoke to you with a hint of sadness behind what she said, “haven’t sat here since my dad died.”

“els, fuck, im sorry should we move over there-“

she has a habit of cutting off your rambling with a squeeze of your hand and saying to you, “hey no it’s okay, it’s nice to sit here again, it’s been so long but i’m glad you’re here with.”

you made sure ellie was okay with staying before you guys took a look at the menu when the waitress came around and introduced herself, telling you her name and she started you and ellie off with a round of hot coffee while you guys looked over the breakfast section.

“okay ellie… i have a serious question.” she looked up from the menu and made direct eye contact with you before you proceeded talking with the most serious look on your face, “waffles or pancakes?”

“not the biggest fan of pancakes, definitely fuck with waffles more,” ellie laughed but the sadness couldn’t help but show up again as she thought about joel again. he didn’t really like pancakes either. ellie thought about the last time her and joel were here, a couple days before he passed. she wished she remembered more of him.

interrupting her thoughts, the waitress came back for your order which for you was waffles with scambled eggs and bacon and ellie got the same thing as you too.

you talked about how nice it was to see parts of the town you didn’t even know existed and that you and ellie got to explore it together, you told her “thank you for bringing you to places that were special to her.”

ellie beamed, “im glad i got to show you sweetheart.”

about 10 minutes later, the waitress brought over your plates and you guys started to dig in to the so needed breakfast. you watched as ellie drowned her food enough that syrup was over her entire plate, laughing as you told her “theres not even any food left at this point, its allllll syrup.”

“hey leave me alone! this is the best part!” she said as she cut a bit and brought it to her mouth as the syrup dripping down her chip. you watched as she licked her lips as she swallowed looking you dead in the eye. all you could think about was kissing her again. the way her lips felt on yours, how her hands covered your body and the goosebumps she left. ellie noticed your eyes change as you thought about it and didn’t speak.

“whatcha thinking ‘bout sweetheart?” ellie finally asked with an innocent smile on her face but she was feeling the same way you did, she couldn’t help the thoughts of last night, staying wrapped around your warm body, the way your lips connected with hers and how you begged for her to kiss you again. she only wonders what would have happened if you guys didn’t stop.

“how good this fo- food tastes el duh,” you stuttered. ellie laughed and mumbled a “sureeee.”

you guys finished your food up and continued drinking the coffee that was refilled a couple minutes ago before you asked for the check. the waitress sat down the receipt and ellie slammed her hand down on to of it before you could snatch it up and treat her again.

“what did i tell you? tsk tsk tsk” she made the noise with her mouth, “i’m getting breakfast,” she said as she pulled her wallet from her back pocket and sat cash on the table. “done with the coffee sweetheart?” as soon as she asked you took your final sip before adding it to the table of empty dishes you piled up for the waitress to make it a little easier for her.

“now i am.” you gave her a smile. she returned it and stood up throwing her backpack over her shoulder, before holding out her hand for you to hold. you gripped her hand as she gently pulled you out of the booth and let you walk first. you walked the diner to the front door before you opened it before the both of you.

as you stepped out of the diner, you wondered if this was a date? you knew it wasn’t said but this would be a great first date if it was. bookshop and a diner with ellie. you’ve never just been out before like this.

in your last relationship, the one that sent you running from new york, you never left the house, she wouldn’t let you. you couldn’t go out with your friends, leading them to stop talking to you because “it was pointless” in being your friend anymore. it hurt but you couldn’t escape it, you knew it was bad being shut in like that but you didn’t want to face your ex girlfriend.

you spent 2 years in that abusive relationship and couldn’t be more happy to get away but the thought of her finding you was always a thought that never left the back of your head. when you threatened to leave before, she told you she’d always find you and that you would never be able to get away from her. you wonder if you ran far enough away from her. hopefully half a country away was enough.

as you both stood out on the sidewalk trying to figure out what your next plans were since it was only about 3pm, ellie asked if you wanted to head to her apartment. you told her yes and you started the walk back down the street you came. hand in hand, the bookstore came in view on the corner and you knew you were close. she brought you down the connecting street to the building next door to a green door with chipped paint. she pulled her keys from her front pocket and unlocked the door.

inside was a stairway to the second floor and a door at the other opposite side of the front door. it was nice entrance with a door mat and a nice table against the wall with some fake flowers and some little decorations.

“ash lives downstairs actually, this is all hers.” ellie told you as she saw you looking the trinkets.

“aw that’s so nice,” you said as she lead you up the stairs to a another green door. ellie unlocked her front door and she held it for you to walk inside. she flicked on the light as she pulled the door shut and locked it. you were taken back at how nice her apartment was. you stepped more into her apartment and took a deep look around.

she had a wall of vinyls next to a record player and stereo system and 2 guitars, one electric and another dark wood acoustic with a moth on the neck. she had a couple plants in her window and a few on the fireplace in the middle of the open living room, connected to her a bit outdated kitchen (but it added to the ambiance) she had a playstation connected to her large tv screen across from a long grey couch. the door to the bathroom was open so you can only assume the one that’s shut across the room is her bedroom. band posters littered her walls and picture frames sat around her living room. a bookshelf full of comic books and action figures along with a series of books on space.

she walked over to the couch and dropped her bag as you followed her and took a seat on the couch. it was so comfy, it was unbelievable. she grabbed the remote and handed it to you telling you to turn on whatever. you did as you watched from the side as ellie emptied the contents of her book bag which consisted of her jar of weed, her rainbow grinder and a pack of papers.

“hm sweetheart?”, ellie said getting your attention, “m gonna take a shower, mind rolling one for when im done?” she smiled at you.

“yeah sure els!” you said as you picked up the pack of papers. she smiled and walked into her bedroom. you heard the shower turn on you finished prepping a couple papers. you packed the grinder, then started stuffing each one them, licking them shut and placing them back on the table. once you finished, you were watching community as yours eyes darted around ellie’s living room and landed on a picture of her with dina and your brother.

you got up from the couch and walked over and picked it up, examining it. they almost look young in the photograph, you wonder what it would have been like if you were here with them at that time instead of now. how life would have been if you weren’t stuck in new york with her. you placed it back down on the table when another frame caught your eye. you made your way over to the bar area it sat on and held it in your hand.

this must be ellie and her dad.

it was a picture of them in a stable feeding a horse, she had to have been like only fifteen in the photo. “she was so cute,” you thought. you stared at the man who you assume was her dad. he had darker but greying hair, he seemed so young in the picture but it was only taken a couple years ago.

you jumped as you heard ellie speak behind you. you didn’t even hear the water turn off. “joel, that was his name.” she said, you turned around to see her standing right behind you, “our relationship was complicated but he was a good man, taught me most of what i know,” she took the frame from your hands and held it in her own, looking down at it, “but i miss him… you know i planned to ask him to watch a movie that night on the day he passed… but it never happened.” ellie said as her thumb brushed over him in the photo.

you held one of ellies hand over the photo and you gave her a small smile, “i wish i would have met him, he seems like he was a great dad els, i know he’d be proud of you.” she looked to meet your eyes, “thank you sweetheart… really thank you.” she smiles as she puts the picture back down. as soon as it was out of her hands, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around her and squeeze. she returned your hug instantly and rested her chin on your shoulder and her hands made their way to your hips.

“aw sweetheart what was that for?” ellie joked as she pulled her face away but kept her hands on your waist. you swear you skin burned every time she touched you.

“els cmon,” you rolled your eyes jokingly at her, “you know why, now are you ready to smoke?” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she moved you guys towards the couch.

you both got comfy as ellie lit up a joint and you switched on the movie stepbrothers. you got comfy when ellie grabbed a big blanket from a basket next to her couch and she put it over both of you, you scooted closer to her, putting her arm over the back of the couch behind your neck and you cuddled close to her chest, breathing in the wonderful scent of her. as you started the movie, ellie leaned forward grabbing a joint off the table, putting in her mouth and lit it with her free hand.

she took a big hit and blew the smoke out. you watched her as she took her next hit. ellie realized you were watching her and couldn’t help but smile. “you know its rude to stare sweetheart?” she spoke as she took her last hit and held it out to pass to you.

“oops!,” you shook your head and grinned towards her, grabbing the joint as you looked at ellie’s tattooed arm, then back up at her face. the freckles that painted her cheeks and could help yourself as the words left your mouth, “you’re so beautiful els sorry can’t help it.”

you saw the blush creep up on her cheeks as she told you, “so are you sweetheart.”

eventually you guys finished the movie and ellie picked the next one, superbad, one of her favorites she told you, but you guys paused before you started it. ellie stood up and went to the kitchen on the other side of the living room. she looked through the cabinets until she pulled out a bag of doritos and some sprite in a can back to the coffee table for you to snack on during the movie.

when she sat, ellie lit up another a joint and you and her got comfy on the couch as you hit play on your next movie. smoking and laughing over the film, you and ellie got caught up in talking. it felt like you’d known each other for years, the way the conversation flowed and the way you guys connected. you could talk about anything for hours and you know you’d never get bored.

cue to the movie credits and the bag of chips is empty and the soda is drank up, you were laying on ellie’s couch, your legs spread over the top of her lap as she sat up, her hand rubbed up and down your leg under the blanket you were sharing. it was calming but still sent butterflies through your whole body everytime her long fingers made another pass up and down.

your eyes fixated on ellie as she picked up the remote and started looking for something else to watch. she scrolled through a bit before she turned to ask what you were thinking you guys should watch, catching you staring at her yet again. you were nervous to speak but what you wanted to ask her had to be said.

“when i’m with you i don’t feel so… alone.” you admitted to her, “i really like you els, i’ve never felt this way about anyone, i mean there was just one time i thought i did, but it wasn’t like this… this is different.” you paused, looking at her, her face was soft as she listened to you admit this and you can see the grin growing on her face as you finished speaking, “and i know we haven’t known each other long but the last thing i expected when i moved here was to met someone as great as you. i want this els… if you do to of course.” as soon as she knew you were done speaking, it happened so fast.

ellie’s lips connected with yours. she leaned over you as her free hand reached up to your left side of face to pull you closer to her, her other hand had moved from your leg to your thigh now. chills ran down your body as your lips moved with hers slowly but filled with urgency. your hand moved to the back of ellie’s neck, your fingers tangled in her hair and she couldn’t help the moan that escape from her mouth. you took that to to your advantage and introduced your tongue into the already deep kiss. “oh sweetheart,” she mumbled against your lips before copying your actions before she moved on top of you faster than you could blink.

ellie could feel your heart start beating faster as one of her legs slid between both of yours. your lips were warm against hers, the way your fingers stayed gripped in her hair as you pulled on it when the kiss grew sloppy but it was still passionate as ever. ellie needed you, in every possible. she wanted to feel your lips all over her, she loved the way your body molded to hers as she was on top of you, how you fit perfectly under her. how you moaned so low and that it made her body ache for more of you.

ellie couldn’t help but break apart the kiss as she got overwhelmed by her thoughts and had to catch her breath. as much as she wanted to keep kissing you like the world was ending, she didn’t want to rush this yet, yes she can’t wait for it to happen but it was worth the wait, she knew it would be worth it. foreams holding her up, ellie’s forehead rested against yours as she opened her eyes to see you, underneath her, practically panting with your eyes still shut as you caught your breath too.

ellie couldn’t help but lift her head off yours and stare at you while you laid under her like this. your hair was sprawled out messily against the pillow your head was resting on, your shirt was twisted around your body, and your lips were slightly pink and swollen. she could get used to this, ellie thought in her head, seeing you look this gorgeous in a position like this.

you opened your eyes to see ellie staring at you and smiled towards you as she started speaking, “i want you sweetheart.” she said, “i want this to happen, so badly.” she stopped as she pulled her hands up to your face again, hands on either cheek as she brought her head down to kiss you softly, “‘m gonna take you out on a real date sweetheart, ‘m gonna show you how much i want all this, all of you.” she said giving you another kiss, this one lasted a few seconds longer.

“els, i want you too.” you spoke as you placed a kiss on the lips of the the girl who’s on top of you right now. when you pulled back, ellie couldn’t help but place another peck on your lips before she sat up, moving from laying between your legs, but she did move them right back on her lap, sitting closer to you now. you smiled at her as she grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing them with her thumb over the backside as she started talking.

“i feel less alone when i’m with you too,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “‘m gonna get serious for a second if that’s okay?” she questioned looking up at you, you gave her a nod with a smile on your face, before she looked back down at your hands in hers, “joel… when he passed, we were finally starting to build a relationship again. we weren’t very close before he died, dumb shit happened and i just couldn’t forgive him… and as soon as i did, he was gone … it wrecked me- fuck ‘m sorry- its still wrecking me- he taught me so much, he showed me so much… the only time i’m not thinking about him is when i’m with you sweetheart. i hate talking about him, i feel like once i start im not gonna be able to stop but- i just- i need you to know that i’m trying… because you make me want to enjoy my life again.” you hung on everything she spoke, watching the words fall from her lips as she played with your fingers in her hand, a habit you notice she does to her own hands when she’s nervous.

“ellie, you’re not alone in this, i’m sorry you never fully got the closure you needed, you do not ever say you’re sorry for opening up about how you’re feeling, i’m listening if you ever do want to talk about it.. no pressure els but i think it helps to open up to someone and get some things off your chest. im always here for you ellie. i’m still wrecked about some things myself so just know there’s never any jugdgement from me,” you squeezed her hands in yours, showing her you were serious about what you were saying. she lifted her head to look at you, “you make me happy els, i didn’t think i’d get to experience this again…” you paused nervously before she gave your hands a gentle squeeze, showing you that she’s listening and giving you the courage to tell her what happened.

“back in new york, i was in a relationship with this girl. i lived there for about 4 years and we met during my second year of college through a mutual friend… it was great at first, ya know? we connected so fast that within a couple months of being together she ended up moving in with me, that was the first mistake,” you laughed to yourself before continuing, “once we lived in the same place, it made it so much easier for her to control me… she wouldn’t let me leave the house unless it was for work, i couldn’t see my friends, she came home drunk and angry all the time and always accused me of things i would never do, she’s the reason i had to drop out of college while she stayed enrolled and became a lawyer… ” you took a deep breath trying to contain your emotions, you didn’t like talking about this, you didn’t want ellie to see you as a victim. you were so much stronger than even you thought and you hoped she saw that side of you before the other one.

“she made me feel horrible and insecure, …she was extremely manipulative, also i knew she was sleeping with someone else too, i saw messages from her coworker and they were more than slightly suggestive,” you chuckled, almost losing your train of thought as you caught and held your focus to ellie’s hand touching yours comfortingly. “the first time she hit me… it could have been worse, that sounds bad but i don’t know. by the last time she hit me, i dreamed it was the first time again so that it wouldn’t hurt that much.” you could feel the tears well in your eyes.

“the day after when she left for work, i packed as much of my stuff as i could into my car and just left. i didn’t leave a note, i changed my phone number and deleted my social media. it was the best decision i ever made. i don’t know if this was too much to share but i wanted you to know that you aren’t alone in not being okay els, we got this.” you gave her hand a final squeeze as you waited for her to respond.

it took her a minute to process everything you said again before she spoke up, “oh sweetheart… ‘m so sorry that happened to you.” she said disconnecting her hands from yours to move them to hold both sides of your face, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, i’m sorry that she made you feel like that, you don’t deserve any bit of that, wish i knew you back then so all of that never would have happened to you but i promise sweetheart, you will be safe with me. you will always be safe.”

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :) thank u sm for the support!!!!

@lookforthelight1 @ucannotcompare @diddiqueen @mikellie @vvitchesh3x @benthoee @bready101 @all-things-0dd @bunlikean-angel @mulan-but-gay @lovejuliettq

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #tlou series #tlou game #ellie tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us

450 notes · View notes

tokkiiecloud · 5 months ago

Text

It’s hot outside so get hit by this bus take whv this is (Also don’t mind my writing, I ain’t no writer I have written a few fanfictions here and there soo..yeah)

WHB : it’s summer and it’s hot / Beach dates :

Characters : gn!reader ; Belphegor ; Bael ; Gamigin ; ppyong (Juno p) +angel : Raphael

CW : Sweating ; OOC

Belphegor :

this dude just sleeps through the heat

He’s inside with the air conditioner on

You just came back from a small trip in town with Agares and Vassago, and directly joined Belphegor who was sleeping in his room, you were drenched in sweat because of the FUCKING HOT AIR OUTSIDE and you were too lazy to go shower and change into a pair of fresh and cool clothes(he rubbed off on you)

You collapsed on the bed where Belphegor was sleeping, when he felt something that resembled a wet rat, he had to wake up from the discomfort, when he saw it was you he pushed you off the bed :

“WT- BELPHI?! THIS HURTS!” You yelled at him, he ignored you and went back to sleep, you were forced to take a shower and change when you came back he finally used you as a pillow.

Bael :

This man works through the heat (ac broken)

Collapsed bcs of the heat after waking up he started working again.

You walked inside of Bael’s office, he was still working despite when entering you could feel the unbearable heat, you started sweating profusely how could Bael work in this environment??

He smelt you’re sweats and looked at you giving a weak smile, he was close to collapsing, alerted you quickly went to him and grabbed his face worry in you’re eyes :

“Bael?! Your office is like an oven?!” You said worried, he just looked at you and apologized

“Sorry..the ac is actually broken but I’m used to the heat do not worry about me, go somewhere where the ac is on-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence before you dragged him out of the room, he wasn’t able to fight back because of his brain being turned to mush because of the heat.

After dragging him to a random chamber placing him onto the bed, making him drink some water, changing him into more comfortable clothes and going into the bed to cuddle with him.

He smiled softly before kissing your forehead and letting himself be taken care of by you.(Bael my beloved)

Gamigin :

He’s very worried about you staying hydrated

“Please don’t go outside too much”

Paradise lost, for some reason is not that hot?? But Gamigin still worries a lot about you he heard from Lucifer that human’s can’t withstand too much heat so he’s constantly checking on you, giving you water to keep you hydrated!

Ppyong (Juno p) :

Spends his day at the beach to be able to cool himself in the water

Listens to Avril Lavigne while swimming

He begged MC to go to the beach with him so he could spend some alone time together! Drinking wine together, watching the sunset together, swimming, his perfect idea for a date! Sadly he can’t hang out because the others will tag along…

At least he got a kiss on the forehead for the cute idea! It was worth it :

“Ppyong, I mean Juno, this is a very cute idea! Let’s do this next time!”

He giggles as you kiss his forehead, his smile is super bright almost blinding you more than the sun

Raphael :

Doesn’t give a flying fck at the heat

Has tried to kiss you while watching the sunset and will continue to try when he can

Interestingly, you found Raphael at the beach while hanging out with the devils of Gehenna and when he saw you…He took you away from them so for the rest of the day you spent you’re time with him

It was fun! You had a really good and goofy time with him he was still acting high and mighty but he was softer than usual until the sun started to set, both of you were sitting down on the golden sand :

“The sunset is beautiful..all those golden and pinkish mixed with a hint of blue create such a unique and ethereal look…”

He looks at you, eyes sparkling, he smiles at you as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, extremely gently as if he was handling a crystal glass :

“You know what else is beautiful and ethereal?” He looks deep into your eyes, leaning in closer to your face, when suddenly a bunch of demons intervened and brutally ended the sweet moment by starting a fight after the fight Raphael left but not without saying one last thing :

“Our moment was interrupted but we’ll have time to continue it some time later. See you dear” he smirks and flies away.

It’s donneeee!! YAYY! Don’t mind it going from weird /goofy or cringe ?? To sweet, I couldn’t stop myself from writing about them I just had too before the fandom completely dies you know?? So every time I get an idea I’ll write it!! :3

#what in hell is bad #whb bael #whb ppyong #whb belphegor #whb x reader #whb gamigin #whb raphael #I was in a weird mood don’t judge me #small writing #my friend approved of this

229 notes · View notes

cod-dump · 4 months ago

Note

HEAR ME OUT PLS

Teen!Ghost waking up early to watch a Pokémon marathon right-

But kid!Roach also waking up early because he's a child and that's how they roll, but becoming fixated on the TV when the episode starts because of all the colours and the cool animal things and ends up watching with Simon.

Then they end up doing this every Saturday morning (when Pokémon airs for me, each week there's a marathon which starts at like 5:30 and ends at 10:30) and it just becomes this little thing for them.

Pokémon (teen!Ghost au)

___

He set his alarm early for this. A Pokémon marathon. He's seen it all by this point but he doesn't care.

Simon ran downstairs, Riley chasing after him. He propped the kitchen door open so Riley could go outside as he prepared the pup's breakfast before he focused on making his own breakfast and snacks for the marathon. He would've hijacked the TV in the basement but the chance of his father having to work, forcing him to move upstairs, was too high.

He's already warned his family of his plans and everyone seemed to be on the same page: Simon had the living room TV for the day and he was willing to fight anyone over it.

Simon had everything set up on the coffee table and end table. He will only be moving during commercial breaks unless there was an emergency. He was just setting the pillows up when Riley bounded into the living room... with Gary.

"Oh... Hi, Gary."

The kid stared at him silently before he looked to the TV. The marathon hadn't started yet but there was colorful commercials advertising toys, other shows, and some events. Gary was hypnotized.

"You wanna watch with me? You like Pokémon?"

Gary nodded and Simon decided this was the perfect opportunity to bond with the kid. He was skittish but he was warming up to everyone. He loved the pets, loved bothering John and Nik, and liked hanging out with Farah. She took up some babysitting with the agreement she would get paid even though she offered to do it for free in the beginning.

Gary wasn't close with Simon or Kyle.

"Want a waffle?"

That sealed the deal and Gary wandered over to the couch and got on. Simon knew he had less than twenty minutes to toast another waffle and add extra provisions for the addition of Gary. So he gave Gary his own waffle and ran into the kitchen to make another waffle before the marathon started.

John was heading downstairs quietly, knowing that Simon was glued to the TV and would snap if he was disturbed. So when he peeked into the living room he was shocked to see Gary on the couch with him, both absorbed by the TV. He took this opportunity to take a picture and send it to Phillip.

'Your kid likes Pokémon.'

John went on to the kitchen to silently make some coffee and get some food ready for the rest of the household. Riley had decided to join him, demanding attention by sitting at his feet while whining and tapping his paws.

"Si too focused to play with you, huh?"

John gave Riley a pat who licked his hand. He can't believe he was against getting this dog.

John finished making his cup of coffee when Kyle sneaked into the kitchen. John snorted when he saw he was dressed as a ninja. It was a cheap Halloween costume he bought with pocket money and it has made random appearances. Such as this morning.

"Son, what are you doing?"

"Blending in. If Simon sees me he might bite."

John snorts, "Sit down and I'll get you a plate."

Kyle chose to instead walk over and get in his father's space, pressing against him as he eyed his cup of coffee.

"Can I have some?"

"No, you're hyper enough as is."

"But-"

"No, it'll stunt your growth. Do you want to stay shorter than Simon forever?"

Kyle glared at him before he removed himself from his side to sit at the table. John refrains from laughing, he doesn't know how long that'll keep working and he doesn't want to push it. Kyle was pouting at the table when John gave him his plate.

"Simon is gonna be taller than me..."

"He's Nik's kid, he's going to be huge."

Farah walked in the kitchen, "I saw Gary with Simon."

"Great, he's replacing me with a new baby brother."

John grinned as he walked around and wrapped his arms around Kyle, "You're still my baby boy."

"DAD-"

John pressed several kisses to Kyle's head as he struggled to escaped, Farah laughing. Kyle was grinning even though he had a hand trying to shove his father away. Nikolai walked in at that moment, half asleep.

"Get any louder and Si is going to kill you."

John decided to show mercy, giving Kyle one last kiss before he released him. Farah was giggling and Kyle was forcing a frown by this point. Nik was on auto pilot, pressing a kiss to John's cheek as he passed before heading straight to the coffee pot.

John had a feeling Nik didn't see the scene in the living room and walked over. He had his phone out and silently showed Nik the picture he took, the man staring at the screen in confusion until he finally woke up enough to see what was on the screen.

"They're bonding," he muttered and John nodded.

"Over colorful, cartoon animals that do not exist in real life."

"It's adorable. I need that printed and hung on the wall."

Farah leaned over and whispered to Kyle, just low enough John couldn't hear. Kyle lit up with a grin before he stood up and ninja'd his way out of the kitchen. John sighed, turning to Farah who immediately gave him an innocent smile.

"What did you say to him?"

"Nothing," oh she had a charming smile, he would've believed her if he didn't know her.

Nikolai was the one to figure it out, way faster than what John would have.

"Those Pokémon ball things. The stuffed ones."

"Oh no-"

John raced out of the kitchen to stop Kyle before he signed his own death certificate. Farah laughed wickedly and Nik sipped his coffee, utterly content in the life he had.

___

#call of duty #modern warfare #teen!ghost au #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #kyle gaz garrick #farah karim #john price #cod nikolai #cod riley #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #drabble #ficlet #adopted au

204 notes · View notes

devilfic · 4 months ago

Text

❝right place, right time❞

X. we don't fight fair.

parts: previously / next plot: you and bruce talk some more about your arrangement. everyone wants to know what's going on with you two. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, angst is back baby, but so are the romcom plot beats, somebody get gordon a drink and get one for me too. words: 7.6k. a/n: LOTS of plot this chapter, but also some maybe cute things coming later. in between the horrors :D

It takes more coaxing than you would like for Bruce to let you leave alone two days later. Even with proof of a patient, he insists he send you in his car, with his driver and his guards. One of the cops on your detail had confessed they were feeling redundant, leisurely as they were anyway, parked outside General with coffees barely keeping hot in the November chill, “Just the one today, right doc?”

You snuggle deeper into your coat, hands eagerly grasping at the warmers in your pockets, “Just the one. If everything goes smoothly, I’ll be out before lunch.”

“Well, we’ll be here. Holding down the fort.” The two of them snicker to themselves. Glancing to the side, you see Bruce’s men: one in the driver’s seat of his car and the other waiting by the entrance for you. Unlike your detail, they dared not crack a smile for fear of looking too cheerful. You wouldn’t admit it out loud (because these cops were being paid to keep you alive), but you felt like your life was in much better hands with people who weren’t currently goofing around on the hood of their car.

“Right. Thanks, fellas.” You can’t be bothered to sound sincere, and from their general lack of acknowledgement, they don’t seem to care.

You spin on your heels, preparing to follow Bruce’s guard into the hospital, but nearly crash into a woman walking behind you. The collision has you stumbling and jumping back, Bruce’s guard jumping forward, and the woman baring her teeth at you in a… smile?

Her teeth glint bleach-white off the gathering snow, a few shades lighter than the hair smoothly pinned at her crown. Unlike everyone else shuffling past on the icy sidewalk, she is perfectly content with standing right in front of you under the porte-cochère. You supposed the black, mink coat wrapped around her person kept her all warm and toasty. You felt jealous. Then you felt like you should apologize for ramming into her, but nothing came out.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” The extravagant woman speaks first, glancing over her shoulder at the guard who now looms between the two of you, prepared to defend if need be, “Oh! Hello, pleasure to meet you.” She reaches a hand out to the guard and when he doesn’t go to take it, she snatches his hand up from his side in a firm handshake.

You’re more forthcoming with your hand when she turns to you, though you’re not at all sure why she’s bothering to introduce herself. Anyone else would’ve moved on by now. And flipped you off while they were at it.

“Ma’am, is there a problem here?” One of the cops pipes up from behind you, eyes fixed on the woman.

Her smile grows wider, “Not at all, officer. I just thought this all looked so… curious.” She gestures between the cop car and Bruce’s car with one French-tipped finger, “You wouldn’t happen to be a celebrity doctor, would you? Plumping up the pillow-faces of our city’s darling socialites, perhaps?”

You try to scoot around the woman, but she moves with you, keeping perfect eye contact with you the whole time, “I’m real sorry, but I need to get going. I have an appointment-“

“With Bruce Wayne?”

You flinch. The woman looks… familiar, now that you’re looking at her more closely. Her name escapes you. “Excuse me?”

“Bruce Wayne. That’s his car- well, one of them anyway. A source of mine says it’s the same one from two days ago when you both arrived together for… something. And the same one from a few weeks ago; if I recall, Mr. Wayne made a generous donation—a whole wing!—to Gotham General earlier this month. And now you’ve been spotted using his car. What’s that all about?”

The same cop from before flanks your side, locking you in with Bruce’s guard and this mysterious woman, “Lady, they’re busy. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“I only want to ask a few questions.”

“And they don’t have to answer. If you keep this up, I’m gonna write you up for harassment.”

She looked like she’d been waiting to hear that. She reaches within the folds of her coat and pulls out a badge, brandishing an ID for the cop to read, “Whatever happened to freedom of the press?”

You peer at the ID yourself, at the impeccably styled photograph of the same woman with the same blonde hair falling in loose, Hollywood curls that frame her smile. Beside her photo is her name: Vicki Vale. You suddenly remember where you’d seen her before.

Vicki knows you know, too. You try to sidestep her for the door but she crowds in on you, barreling through the arms that attempt to hold her back, “Are you Mr. Wayne’s doctor? Is he sick? Is he dying?”

Your lip curls back in a snarl, “What ever happened to HIPAA?”

That amuses her. “Is he in the car right now? Is that why you’ve got all this security? Is Bruce Wayne paying for your protection after you were taken hostage a few weeks ago?”

The cop grabs Vicki by the upper arm, managing to wrangle her away from you, but she only pivots to the car, tapping her nails on the tinted windows and calling out for Bruce to comment. You almost feel sorry for her, in the way you might feel sorry for a rabid dog walking in circles on a busy street.

You feel a hand on your back and Bruce’s guard ushers you quickly into the hospital, even as Vicki shouts after you for clarification on Bruce’s whereabouts. His expression, as always, is flat.

When you’re far enough away from the lobby, you ask, “Does that kind of thing happen to… him a lot?”

The guard doesn’t bother to pause in his stride, doesn’t even bother to look down at you as he answers, “Yes.”

You supposed if you had to deal with people like Vicki Vale all your life, you’d become a recluse too.

At the very least, you hadn’t said anything damning. She would have nothing to go off of with whatever soundbite she managed to grab from you, and God save her editor when they’d inevitably have to cut out her getting threatened by a cop.

She’d been waiting for you, though. How she knew you’d be here, at this time, meant she’d either been tailing you or she had someone on her payroll doing it for her. The thought makes your stomach churn.

Bruce had been in your office twice, but you had never been in his.

It was bigger, obviously; it’s two floors below the penthouse with a receptionist outside and some hallways leading to God knows where. The receptionist—Jennifer, who insists you call her Jenny—is very forthcoming with refreshments as you wait outside for Bruce’s meeting to finish. You decide there’s no better time than now to pick apart the marble floors and TVs on the wall replaying WE’s corporate reel.

The lobby downstairs was modern, clearly remodeled, but Bruce’s office and penthouse were comparatively frozen in time. You could almost picture the first Waynes walking through here all those years ago. Everything—from the luxurious leather chair you were sitting on, to the warm low light, to the gentle clicking of Jenny’s fingers on the keyboard, to the empty glass of sparkling water she’d given you had almost made you forget that you were currently living in the penthouse upstairs.

The door to Bruce’s office opens, breaking you out of your contemplation. A man in a fine suit walks out, chatting with Bruce, though you couldn’t see the latter from where you were sitting. You can only catch the last half of their conversation: something about an auction?

You don’t have much time to think on it. Jenny quickly rises from her desk and slips into Bruce’s office, and a few seconds later comes out to invite you in.

You don’t see Bruce at first. The room is just as big as you imagined. Bruce’s desk is right across from the doors, backlit by large windows letting in the noonday light. It’s a heavy, wooden thing that is far bigger than it really has any business being with next to nothing actually on it. And, notably, he is not sitting at it.

It takes you a second to spot him to your left at a built-in bar, washing out a glass of what looked like dark liquor down the drain. It isn’t until Jenny shuts the door behind you that he looks over at you, setting the empty glass on the counter.

Today, he’d forgone a sweater for a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. You noted the healed over cuts and scars on his arms and wondered if people asked about them the way you had, enchanted (rather than perplexed) by stories of martial arts hobbies with no concerns for where he went at night. He watches you thinking about it, but before you can ask, he speaks first, “So, you met Vicki.”

Your shoulders slump just at the mention of her. Bruce catches it and a smile, however small, warms up his expression. “Unfortunately.”

“Bet she made an impression.”

You cross the room in a few strides, undoing your coat and throwing it over a nearby chair, “She’s tactless. She said her source recognized your car and now she wants to know what we are to each other,” You pause in your ranting when you see him pour a bit of brandy into the glass next to him, “Is that for me?”

He casually hands it to you, “You look like you need it.”

You don’t have the marbles to take offense to that at the moment. You knock back the shot in one go, then go to pour yourself another one as Bruce watches you. After you throw back the second one, you realize that he hasn’t responded to you. “Weren’t you listening? I said she’s following us.”

“Plenty of reporters are, she’s not special.”

“Wh- sorry, what?”

Bruce shrugs, “Vicki Vale isn’t the only reporter in Gotham who knows what cars I drive, who I go to lunch with, or where I put my money.”

“Isn’t that…” You start to ask, but the way Bruce is looking at you makes you feel like your perfectly reasonable question has a perfectly obvious answer already, “…isn’t that bad?”

“Not when I know what cars they drive. I know who works for them. When I don't want to be seen, I’m not seen. They don’t have that luxury.”

“You keep tabs on all of them?”

You watch Bruce lean against the bar to face you, one hand in the pocket of his- okay, whoa. Either his thighs were getting bigger or his pants were getting tighter. You don’t remember his other suits being this… formfitting. You can’t help but notice how they stretch as he reclines, and though your eyes flick back up to his before he can catch you, he makes no mention of it… even if his eyes narrow some. He waits until he’s sure he has your undivided attention, “I like to be informed. Especially since we’re selling a narrative, now.”

“A narrative.” After a moment, it clicks in your mind. “That we’re together. The narrative we never agreed on selling.”

Bruce brushes right past that, “So what’d you tell Vicki?”

You pour yourself a third shot, though it’s a bit more modest. You cap off his brandy and move away from the bar as if it would silence the siren song of day-drinking, “I told her that asking if you're dying is a HIPAA violation.” Bruce's mouth twitches as if containing a laugh. "What?"

You watch him contemplate telling you, and then, as if he suddenly thinks better of it, he shakes his head. “You just reminded me. If we do agree to do this, I will have to fire you. Patient ethics."

“Which is another reason why we probably shouldn’t do it.”

His head tilts, “Probably?”

You flush. You sip on your drink, folding your other arm around your waist as he questions you with his eyes, “I just… I’m frustrated. I hate this. I hate that the safest choice here is to hide away while you take care of it. It’s not that I don’t trust you to do it, I just don’t want to run away.”

Bruce watches you in that way of his, calculating and assessing. “Going in alone is running away too. You’d be Isaac bound at the altar.”

“And you, Abraham? Delivering me to a cruel god?” A rush of exasperation sours his expression. “I’d be stopping him. It’s me he wants.”

“And what about your parents? Your friends? Judith? You’d be fine leaving them to bury you?”

“Of course I’m not- of course not.”

“Then you don’t have to do it. Trust me.”

“I do trust…” You stare at him for a moment, “I trust you. I have to. But you get that this is weird, right? Getting together for the press? Putting all eyes on us? You get why this feels weird for me, don’t you?” Bruce is quiet, holding your gaze steady. You know that this plan wasn’t his first choice, and yet he didn’t look nearly as put off by it as you were. Perhaps it was another way you two differed. Something else to chalk up to being so rich that things like this- maneuvers like this become necessary. “Why do you want to do it?”

He pushes himself off the bar, taking a step and then another until he’s squarely in front of you. You have to squeeze your hands into fists to tamp down the immediate flight response you feel being this close to him, seeing this almost unguarded side to him. It was different from the deer-in-headlights deal he had when you first met: open, but unsure. It rocks you that he doesn’t look so unsure anymore. You swallow and keep his gaze, but it feels like a lot more work for you than it is for him.

“You said you don’t want to hide, and I don’t want to make you. We need a good reason for me to stick by your side. This is a solution.”

“You don’t need to stick by me. I’ve got a detail, remember?”

“I don’t trust two cops to keep you safe.”

“Your guards, then. You’ve got more than enough to do the job for you.”

Something in Bruce’s eyes flicker, “Maybe I want it to be me.”

Your courage slips. Your lips part, sounding out words you can’t bring yourself to say. What do you say to that?

He wants it to be him. He wants to be the one to keep you safe.

Logically, you know he’s right. GCPD’s finest couldn’t hold a candle to his strength and dexterity. They couldn’t even keep him out of their servers. And his guards were better, but they were still fallible. A gunshot or a stab wound would take them out just as easily as it would anyone else. The man before you had survived both of those things and more.

Uncanny warmth unfurls your fists. It curls around your rib cage, through each bone, around each lung, worming its way up your throat and unspooling in your mind. You feel warm all over. It is a terribly strange feeling to have for Bruce Wayne, but you’re having it all the same.

If he was still just Batman to you, you might’ve done something you couldn’t easily take back.

You suddenly wish for the times when that was the case, when blindfolds were commonplace, so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye or think through how one might have gone through with those thoughts, if one had the chance- “As far as reasons go,” you struggle around the lump in your throat, “That’s not the worst.”

Bruce smiles.

He skirts around you and heads for the desk as you watch him go, the scent of him finally permeating past your defenses. He didn’t smell like green apple today—more sandalwood or pine—and as you debate on the specific notes, he comes back to you with a flier in hand. It takes your scent-drunk mind a minute to read it.

Gotham City Food Bank presents: The Thanksgiving Bachelor Auction!

You stare. Bruce is still holding the flier out to you, expecting a reaction. You can’t really think of one. “Uh.”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Why…?”

“The food bank puts together Thanksgiving baskets every year for the needy: turkeys, tofu, yams, stuffing, the works. They do a charity event to raise money to stuff the baskets. It’s for a good cause.”

“That’s awesome. What does this have to do- oh, fuck.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows. You recall what the man from earlier mentioned about an “auction”. You snatch the flier away to look at the finer details. It would be this weekend, there were six bachelors planned (including Bruce), and each person was encouraged to bid big for charity. Dinner would be provided. It sounded nice.

“You can bring Dr. Madison,” Bruce offers, “I think she likes me.”

She does. She painfully does. You could imagine her emptying this month's and last month's paycheck on a date with Bruce. Taking him to the nicest (and least vandalized) sushi joint in the city, engaging him with tales of the kids she's saved and her love of Broadway. Pampering him with praises for his charity work, admiring him openly and easily, charming him the way she charmed him at General.

She is a charming, sweet, beautiful woman. Bruce would look very good with her, even for charity. You wonder what things would've been like had he broken into her apartment instead of yours.

“Just wait 'til she finds out you personally invited her," you force a laugh, "She's going to have to take out a loan."

"I didn't know you were planning to bid on me, too." He's joking. Obviously, he's joking, if the barely restrained smile is anything to go by.

"In your dreams, maybe." Bruce shrugs. "But... I thought we were creating a narrative. Letting someone else buy you for a night isn't very romantic." You hate how hesitant you sound, like the idea of it displeased you. You don’t mean to sound that way, of course. It's just that if anyone were going to go on a date with Bruce... shouldn't it be you?

“The dates are just for fun. You'd be my real date.” His real date. God. “It would make you look like a good sport." He sees you mulling it over, still unsure. He folds the flier into his pocket. "Or not. We don't have to tell them anything yet. I wouldn't want to make it awkward for Dr. Madison if-“

If what? If she found out you were "dating" Bruce days after telling her to her face that you didn't know his relationship status? God forbid she rub it in your face after you spent so long being indifferent about him. “It's fine. We'll come. But maybe hold off on calling me your real date until you’ve fired me. Officially. You know.”

“I'll have my people talk to your people.”

You feel queasy at the smile he gives you, so casual and reassuring. You could really use a lie-down right about now. “Okay. Well. I’ll see you at home.”

Bruce blinks, but you’re already heading for the doors of his office before you've realized what you just called his place. You hear a quiet “see you” from behind, but you don’t dare to look back.

“Please don’t agitate the inmates. We are liable for anything that happens to you on the premises, but if you go poking around where you shouldn’t, that’s on you.”

The corrections officer hands you a clip-on badge with your name on it, but when she goes to ask Batman for his ID, she hesitates.

“He’s with me.” Detective Gordon assures her from his other side. The officer’s eyes narrow. James raises an eyebrow, “I talked to the warden about it. If you’d like to bring it up with him.”

That seems to be all the convincing she needs. She passes James his badge and gestures for you three to continue on down toward the visitation room.

It had been a hassle getting Bruce through the metal detectors, and it had been distraction enough that it didn’t weigh on you just who you were going to see until you were already in the room.

It was wide, with vending machines and a couple of tables scattered about, barred windows allowing a look into the unusually sunny afternoon outside. A handful of inmates were already there: some visiting family, others meeting with lawyers. It made it easy to spot him. Lucien was the only one alone, and from the looks of him, he was more happy to see you than you were to see him.

As you three walk over, he stands from the table, grinning ear-to-ear. You barely remembered his face from when you were younger, save for the same patchy beard that had yet to fill in after all these years. He greets Bruce first, holding out a hand, “Wow. You know, I’ve never seen you up close before. Kinda glad about that.”

Bruce does not shake his hand. Lucien’s smile is unwavering. His eyes slide past yours to meet the detective’s, and James shakes his hand out of pity.

It isn’t until you and James sit down that Lucien finally looks at you dead on. “You look good.” You feel your stomach lurch. It didn’t feel good to hear, especially when he looked at you like freshly caught prey. When you make no move to reply to that, he shrugs, “I almost didn’t recognize you. I hear you’re a doctor now. Really worked your way up from gutter trash, huh?”

Your expression hardens and he snickers.

James cuts in for you, “Mr. Goulding, we requested a visit because we think you might be able to help us with an ongoing case you were involved in. Can you tell us what you remember about Dimitri Young?”

Lucien’s eyes slither back to James, “Not much. Kid wasn’t with us long. He was… skinny. Cried easy. Up Nat’s ass all the time.”

“Were you close with Ms. Young?”

“Yeah, yeah. You could say that. We worked with each other. Ran the trade for a while with a couple other kids. Got a lot of customer service experience back then. She was… nice. Shame what happened.”

James raises an eyebrow, “Seems like you were on good terms. And after Natalie was killed, did you keep up with Dimitri? Visit him at Arkham, maybe? Write him letters?”

Lucien glances at you. “Well… it was tricky. Thanks to the good doctor and friends, I had to steer clear of the whole thing for a while. Felt bad for the kid, though. When I heard about the plea deal… I’d have taken life here over Arkham. I don’t care how fucked up the kid got over Nat’s death. What they’re doing down there?” He looks over at James and grimaces, “That’s the real criminal shit.”

You remembered that. His lawyer had pleaded insanity under the guise he’d get parole on good behavior, gain sympathy for having lost his only family so brutally. You remembered what Bruce said too; he’d been good. He was doing good until he saw you.

James gears up to ask another question but Lucien cuts him off, “Are they gonna talk or are they just decoration?” He points his finger at you and Bruce who hovers over your shoulder.

You wring your hands underneath the table, feeling Bruce’s eyes burning into the back of your skull. The truth was that you had a list of questions to ask him. You’d stayed up all night writing them down, rehearsing them.

Now, you could only remember Natalie and the barrel of her gun.

Lucien was there, too. He was on the frays of the memory as he always was. The shootout had yielded successes and failures, and Lucien, who’d been there that night—who laughed as Alex laughed and laughed harder when the bullet nestled itself into the meat of her brain—had not been found for years after that. You thought sometimes that you saw him on the street, but his appearance in your memory was just as frayed.

It all comes back to you now that you’re sitting in front of him. The everyman, a person meant to blend into the crowd. It didn’t surprise you that he’d managed to stay out of here for so long.

“…You don’t have to if you’re not ready.” James’ voice floats in between your musing, making you aware of his and Lucien’s eyes on you. Lucien is still smiling, strands of golden hair slipping out of the small bun at the back of his head.

“Why did you stay with the Vipers for so long?”

Your question surprises him, like he hadn’t expected you to have a voice after all these years, “I was open to new opportunities. But they paid well and you’re almost guaranteed a good position if you don’t get gunned down before 18. I was running my own little unit of teenyboopers before I got locked up.”

You frown. How casual he is describing it all. “They didn’t toss you aside as soon as you got too old to control?”

“No, no. That was your friend’s big issue, wasn’t it? Scared to be controlled. Nah. The boss man liked me. You know they like ‘em young, easy to impress upon and all that. They want the lifelong loyalty. I’ve never been that devoted, you know? But I liked the money.”

“Do you know what happened to Dimitri?” This question, Bruce asks. For the first time, you see Lucien’s smile dim some.

Lucien clears his throat, “No. Kid kick the bucket?”

“He broke out with some inmates not too long ago. He’s on the street hunting down people related to Nat’s case.”

Lucien looks from Bruce to you, then breaks out into a fit of hysterical giggles. The sound is grating to your ears. “Holy shit. He wants to kill you.”

“He’s killed one person already,” James stresses, trying to save you the humiliation. “We need to know if you think he could be working with the Vipers again. We believe someone is supplying him with… venom.”

“Venom? Fuck me. That’s expensive, especially those newfangled strains they had on the street when I was out. Can really fuck you up if you’re not careful.”

“Did the Vipers have their hands on that kind of stuff? You were a lieutenant after all.”

“Maybe. Not as much as they did drops. That was all the rage. Venom’s too volatile and, like I said, it can really fuck you up,” Lucien exhales hard through his nose. “If Dimitri’s on that, he’s not gonna last. Especially if the Vipers are giving it to him.”

You frown, “Why especially?”

“I mean, come on. Same reason you and your friend beat the shit out of him all those years ago,” You flinch at the memory. “He was weak and nobody gave a shit about him except Nat. My guess is the kid probably went back to ‘em for help, and they saw an opportunity to make him a lab rat.” You feel Bruce shift behind you as his cape brushes what little of your arm you were allowed to leave exposed here. Lucien’s eyes drift up Bruce’s body, sparkling with some new recollection, “And with Mr. Vengeance on the streets, I imagine juicing your best men up with venom oughtta make a nice challenge.”

Lucien watches as you process what he'd realized instantly. Behind the feigned impassivity, some little bit of him seems to find this just as awful as you do. Even if it's just pity, a shake of the head as foresight grants him the knowledge that what comes next will undoubtedly be a tragedy.

It had to have been Dimitri’s first time on venom when he attacked Russo, and as uncoordinated as he was, he had put up a fight against Bruce. You couldn’t imagine what he’d be like if he got better at it. If he got more of it. And he would, if the Vipers had any sense. You knew they didn't give a shit about you, or Russo, or Alex, or Dimitri. They were just hoping that his rage would make a casualty out of the Batman.

He was going to kill himself for the chance. And the Vipers wouldn't care. They would leave his doped up, bloated carcass in the street like they had left Nat.

You realize that you aren't breathing when you feel a cool hand on your upper back, closing around your scruff and sending a jolt of awareness through you. You almost think that it's Dimitri—having crawled out of your racing thoughts and come to take you once and for all—before realizing that it was Bruce, hovering so close now that his cape brushed your shoulders. His leather-clad thumb brushes against the nape of your neck, and when you look up to see him looking down at you, you catch him imploring you for something. Urging you to get out of your head.

Looking at him reminds you to breathe. You take one deep breath in, holding his gaze, and turn back to Lucien.

When you do, he looks different now. His eyes linger on Bruce’s hand. When you ask him your next question, he doesn’t seem to delight in the drama of it anymore, “After Dimitri was put away, what did the Vipers do?”

Lucien stares at you, then past you. His tone is solemn after a few moments of silence, “It was business as usual. They packed up what they could, moved to their other safe-houses in the city, relocated and reallocated. They talked about… the kid costing more than he was worth. Handful of us pitched in and got Nat a grave. I’ve been a few times. Not recently. It was nice.”

“Where?”

His eyes narrow at you, “Why do you give a shit? You feel guilty? Wanna leave some flowers for the dearly departed?”

You feel your lower lip wobble and you curse the feelings burning inside you. You were trying so hard to keep it together. “Do you think any of the Vipers would bother to tell him?”

He stares at you for a minute. Someone new walks into your peripheral view. It’s one of the correctional officers warning you about time. Something soft coats Lucien’s voice then, "She's in St. Agatha’s cemetery, near the treeline. The name on the marker is Adelpha Lions. We couldn't bury her as Natalie.”

Adelpha Lions. St. Agatha's. You think about bringing her flowers, but the thought leaves a terrible taste in your mouth.

The officer from before comes back to escort the three of you out, and Lucien doesn't bother to acknowledge her or James thanking him for his time. He only watches you, leveling you with a look of such contempt that you feel your chest hollow out, breath stolen again. He watches you well until the door to the visitation room swings shut.

Bruce and James walk ahead of you, though you notice that Bruce lags behind, glancing back at you every once in a while to make sure you're keeping up. James mentions something about keeping an eye on the cemetery, just in case Dimitri does know about it, and it leaves the same terrible taste in your mouth from before.

You know you ought to say something, but you find yourself drifting after them, mind elsewhere, stuck on the way Lucien looked at you. It was like a switch flipped when he saw Bruce touch you.

Why had he touched you? So blatantly, so intimately? He had to have known how that would look. Could it have been that he didn't care? Or, that he cared more about you?

You peek at Bruce’s profile as you walk; the cold lights above you both make the black of his cowl stand out, but they also make the blue of his eyes that much more piercing when they suddenly zero in on you. Your name is called. You look to the side and see James staring at you, expecting, worried almost, “You good back there?”

“Sorry. What?”

“I said I’d like to talk to you.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“Alone. If you don't mind.”

You look at Bruce. His eyes have focused on James now, searching for what he might want to talk about. You wished you could read minds. You decide it couldn't hurt to ask, “Can I ask what about?”

“Just some... questions. We haven't had the chance to really speak since the night you were attacked. I'd like to follow up with you." You bristle when you realize he expects Bruce to fully leave. James notices, glancing between you and Bruce. "I’ll drop you back at Wayne Tower, since your detail says that’s where you’re staying now.” When you don't make a move to confirm, he sighs, jerking his thumb toward the exit, "...I'll let you two talk."

You watch him walk toward the parking garage, just as Bruce crowds up against you, dropping his voice to a whisper, "He wants to know about me."

"Yeah, no shit. What do I say to him?"

"I told him I'd look into Bruce Wayne to keep him off my trail. There's not much I can do since you told him what you saw." You can hear the irritation bleed through his words. "As far as he knows, Bruce Wayne could be a suspect and you could be in danger."

You curse under your breath, "So I need to clear your name."

"What exactly did you tell him the night you were attacked? Exactly."

"I... I said that I had reason to believe... uh, confidential information was leaked to Bruce."

"Did you tell him exactly what the information was?"

"No."

"Did you tell him where you saw it?"

"No. Just that I knew you knew something you shouldn't. But he knows I had no proof."

Bruce goes quiet. You see him looking off to the side, eyes flicking to and from as he thinks about what to say next. Each second feels like a minute, and you keep watch over the direction James went for fear he'd come looking for you after too long.

You feel Bruce's hand take your upper arm and he brings you closer, tucking you away from the security cameras overhead and into him instead, "Can you lie?"

"You want me to lie to a detective?"

"We don't have a lot of options here. Can you lie?"

You frown, biting into your bottom lip to ground yourself. The pain focuses you some, "What do you want me to say?"

It's your luck that James is patient. A few minutes later, you find him propped up against the trunk of his car, hands in his pockets as he waits patiently for you and Bruce. Bruce gives you both a single nod before heading off to his own car, leaving you alone with the detective and the world of questions he could be gearing up to ask you.

But before you prepare yourself for the first one, James walks around to the driver's side door, flashing you a playful look, “You ever seen the Bat Signal up close?”

The answer was obviously no, but now that it was right in front of you, you wanted nothing more than to see it turned on. You'd seen it light up the cloudy night sky a million times it felt like, and it never failed to take your breath away. It's far too sunny out to see it now. As the chilly breeze tries to sneak under your clothes, you turn to watch the sunlight glint off the skyscrapers, enjoying the little bit snowy Gotham afforded this late in the year.

The city’s still loud from this high up, but it’s different. Kind of like how it felt watching the city from the penthouse. Up here, it felt secluded. Private. Perhaps that’s why James picked it. He kicks the base of the floodlight with his shoe and it barely tremors, “Was a hell of a time trying to get this thing up here. Chief's still coming around to it.”

You think about the burner phone in your pocket. Bruce’s relationship with the rest of the GCPD was… strained at best, but he and James seemed close; you wondered just how deep their relationship went, exactly. Apparently, not deep enough to tell him who he was.

His voice catches your attention just then. “You living with Wayne, now? How'd that happen?"

You breath out a heavy sigh, “I uh… yeah. He offered. After the whole thing with Dimitri. Just until he’s caught.”

“That’s awfully generous.” You don’t respond to that, so he presses more. "Did he offer or did he...?"

"He offered. No coercion." That wasn't entirely the truth, but you had no room for nuance right now.

“Do you feel safe with him?”

“I do.”

“You seemed worried when we first talked about him. You said he had your file.”

“I... I said that I thought he had access to it. Because of something he said."

James’ eyes narrow at you, watching you with his head tilted. “What'd he say to you?"

"He just mentioned something about the... the case. I told him where I grew up and it jogged a memory."

"Is that so?"

You cursed how apathetic James could make himself look. You had no clue if this was working on him, only that you had to follow through with this, seams tight, no loopholes. "He heard about the shooting. His butler, Alfred, he's always been really protective of Bruce. Everyone knew the Vipers snatched kids with no one to check on them, I think he just wanted Bruce to stay safe. Make sure he didn't make the wrong decision if he went out and got himself in trouble. Like I did."

"So, you told Wayne where you grew up, he brought up the shooting, it triggered something in you. You assumed he knew about your file and you felt threatened. That's why you went to the Bat."

"Yeah."

"And now... nothing?" James raises an eyebrow, gesturing to the empty air. "It's all good now?"

It wouldn't be a good story if it was all good. You twist away from James, leaning against a nearby pillar, "Not exactly. I don't know if he really knows or not, it just felt like a scary coincidence. You know? But I told Batman and he said he'd look into it. I trust him above all else."

"You seemed so sure the night I interviewed you."

"I was looking for patterns."

James hums. "The Bat seems to really like you."

That was a shift. You perk up a bit. “What do you mean?”

“He speaks highly of you. Says I can trust you like I trust him. If you say you feel safe for now, I trust you." Your skin prickles with flattery. "There's just something that's not quite making sense to me."

“Oh?”

"When I looked into your file, nothing looked out of place. GCPD keeps a log of who accesses a file, and from what I could tell, it hadn’t been touched in years. It looked fine… at first.”

Had this been a few days ago, this information would have shook you to your core. It still does, but for an entirely different reason now.

“I’m—admittedly—not great with computers. Normally, I’d ask the guys down in IT about this kind of thing, but seeing as… anyone could be involved, I had my daughter take a look at it. She-“

“Your daughter?”

James pauses. You were no cop, but that didn’t sound particularly legal. Then again, you didn’t have much room to speak. “She… she showed me the metadata, beyond just the stuff we usually see up front, and she found something. The database logs who accesses what because poking around files you have no business looking at can get your badge taken. Needless to say, she found more than a few things wrong.”

“Oh?” This time, your “oh” sounds decidedly more nervous.

“The name and badge number of the last person to access your file was scrubbed from the frontend, but it was still available on the backend. It was an officer, Paul Brown. When I pulled him aside to ask why he needed your file, he claimed he didn’t know anything about it or you. He seemed to be telling the truth, but doing some further digging, I found a trail of cases he’d been accessing over the past two years. Cases related to certain notable figures in the city.”

Notable figures. Like Bruce? Was there more he hadn’t told you?

"I found a connection between those cases and some recent movement from the Penguin. Turned out the guy was a mole feeding intel to Cobblepot. And not just him. I was checking the files he accessed against a timeline of events, and I have reason to believe he’s been feeding a couple of politicians the same need-to-know information. Politicians like Daniel Roberts.”

“Councilman Roberts.” You feel your blood pressure rise as James nods, “Detective, I don’t mean to be rude, but should I even be hearing about this? This sounds serious, way too serious for me-“

“You were there that night at the party Wayne threw, and so was Roberts.”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. There were tons of politicians there who support the mayor. Bruce is interested in politics. Doesn’t mean he’s in bed with them.”

Your defense seems to intrigue James. He rests an arm on the floodlight, “Did the two seem chummy at the party?”

“They didn’t really… talk. I mean, he intervened when I got into an argument with Roberts, but-“

“An argument about what?”

You could kick yourself. It was like this man had a skill for drawing the truth out of you. “It was stupid. He said some stuff about Batman and it got me riled up. Bruce put out the fire.”

“Roberts is the most vocal anti-vigilante member on the city council. Now I know he's connected to a dirty cop, and that he's in Bruce Wayne's circle. Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?”

You swallow, “What exactly are these questions leading to, detective?”

James moves away from the floodlight, approaching you slowly, cautiously, as if he expected you to take flight the second he got too close. “You told me that night that you knew Wayne had information about you he shouldn't have. I found the thread, I pulled it, and now I find Wayne at the center all over again. I'm looking for patterns, too. So, I'm going to ask you again," You watch him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone, flipping the screen to you. In big, bold text, it reads, "NOD IF WE'RE BEING RECORDED" "Are you sure you're safe?"

You should win an Emmy for how you school your expression into one of complete nothingness. All the while in your head, you are cursing the very bed Bruce was conceived upon. You curse him for leaving you here to explain all this, but most of all, you wish you’d kept his bottle of brandy.

You shake your head. James blinks. "I'm sure." You watch him exhale heavily, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "I'm telling you what I believe, detective. I believe I was wrong about Bruce Wayne."

"Maybe. But maybe there's more out there I still need to find."

"You're a good detective, James. Thank you for caring so much. If you can't trust me, trust Batman. If there's something to find, he'll find it."

You can see the slight shake in James’ shoulders. You wonder if he’s starting to freeze up here. You reach into your pocket and hand him one of your warmers, and though he recoils when you first hold out your hand, he thinks about it for a moment, then takes it. "You and the Bat..." He starts, rubbing his thumb against the heat pack in his hand. "He tell you who he is?"

You dodge the question as stealthily as you can, "Did he tell you?"

James considers your question, stern-faced and shivering, “No. But I have my theories." After a moment, he side-eyes you. "You didn't answer my question."

"It's... not for me to say."

He's not satisfied, and you didn’t expect him to be, but he looks too tired to argue now. He runs a hand along his face and looks out onto the city horizon. Under his breath, you hear him whisper, “Yeah. I figured.”

"He trusts you a lot, you know. For the record. I can see why."

You watch him reach into the pocket of his coat and pull out a lighter and cigarette, bringing it to his lips to take a long, deep drag. He holds one out to you, but you shake your head. You'd never been one for smoking (you'd seen the effect it had on the insides), but you could envy the temporary peace on James' face as he blows out a cloud of smoke. "Not a lot of that to spare these days."

a/n: this was a bitch to write with a headache

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; rprt

167 notes · View notes

mischievousmoony · 6 months ago

Text

𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' ⟡ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

⟢ james potter x black!reader (fem)

⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. however, things don’t go so smoothly at first . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 3.6k

⟢ warnings/tags: abusive parents, james’ clothes are described as baggy on the reader, siblings fighting, fluff then angst

⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ masterlist

note: my writing's so rustyyyy the dialogue is so off but im so done editing. and this is gonna need a few more parts, i keep getting carried away.

The Potters' house was very different from yours. It was the first thing you noticed when you woke up. Back home, it felt like Grimmauld Place existed under a perpetual storm cloud. Here, sunshine cannot be escaped. The curtains were drawn closed, but light still filtered in from both sides, almost pleading for them to be opened so that it might do its duty of brightening the house.

Another thing you noticed were birds, who sang pretty songs from right outside your window. You can't remember ever hearing any birds outside your home, and there were plenty of trees for them to nest in. In fact, you started to believe that the aura of your house scared all living things away. Realistically, it was probably all of the yelling and screaming.

As you lie in an unfamiliar room and think of all the reasons why you preferred it over your own, three gentle knocks beat on your door. They sounded different than James' quick staccato, and nerves bubbled in your stomach because you couldn't guess who was on the other side.

You took a deep breath, told yourself that you didn’t have to be so on edge here, and called for the person to come in as you sat up. The knock pattern automatically filed itself away in your brain as belonging to Mrs. Potter. She walked in, carrying a silver tea tray.

"Good morning, dear. Sleep well?" She greeted you as she made her way to your bedside.

"Yes, Ma'am." You said politely.

"Oh, please call me Effie," she insisted as she placed the tray on the bedside table and moved to draw open your curtains. You imagined the sunshine saying thank you for finally letting it in.

“I’ve brought up some tea for you. I wasn't sure how you liked it, alas..." Effie waved her hand over the tray.

The tray had the basics: a teapot, sugar, and a small milk pitcher. However, Effie had also laid out various tea bags for you to choose from, along with some warm biscuits.

“Thank you,” you said in awe as you stared at the display. It was a simple tea setting, really, but the thoughtfulness still had you feeling choked up.

"I spoke with James this morning. May I?" Effie gestured to the edge of your bed, and you welcomed her to sit. "He woke Monty and me up at the crack of dawn, insisting that we let you and your brother stay permanently. Even had tears in his eyes. I tell you, that boy has his father’s big heart."

"Anywho, I nearly tossed a pillow at him for waking me up so early, as if I’d even consider an alternative! But I got to thinking, if James felt like we needed convincing, then we better make sure you and Sirius don’t feel any unease either.”

Effie reached for your hands that lay folded in your lap. “So,” she paused a moment to allow you the chance to shoo her off before placing her hand over yours. “I felt it was important to tell you personally that you are welcomed in this home and this family, assuming you’ll have us, for as long as you need us. That sounds like a good deal to you?”

You bit back tears, “Yea- yes. I think that sounds lovely.”

Effie smiled and squeezed your hands, “Can I give you a hug, dear?”

“Yes, please.” you croaked.

Effie wrapped her arms around you, and you let a few tears loose while she couldn’t see you, wiping them away with your thumb as soon as they appeared. The hug felt warm and unfamiliar, and you wondered if there was a time that your parents ever hugged you like this. If they did, you didn’t remember it.

From behind Effie’s back, you watched James waltz over through your blurry vision. He became distracted by the surprise that the bedroom door was already opened, eyeing it before anything else in the room as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Good morning, sunsh- Mum! You’re in here!”

Effie pulled back from you and craned her neck to look over her shoulder at her son, who was standing up as straight as a board in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at him, sensing his sudden weirdness.

“I was just welcoming Y/N to our home, like we discussed. Are you alright, dear?” Effie tilted her head.

“‘m splendid, Mum.” James said it with a goofy smile, rocking back and forth on his heels.

She drew her eyebrows together and said, "Lovely, James. What can we do for you?"

"Me? Do for me?" James' eyes widened.

Effie shook her head, perplexed by her son’s reaction.

"I'm wondering what brings you here, James?"

"Ah. I was just in the area," James said, doing a poor job at acting casual. "Y'know, the upstairs... area. Uh, so I thought I'd say good morning... Good morning!"

You thought that this must be the kind of thing people face palm over.

“Hm,” Effie squinted at her son, studying him for a moment before deciding to worry about whatever that was later. She turned back towards you, “Anywho, this is your room now, so I hope it's to your liking. We can see about changing these sheets and painting the walls however you’d like-”

“It’s perfect!” You interrupted, looking bashful for doing so, but Effie didn't seem to mind.

“Well, feel free to customize it any other way. Any posters?” Effie offered.

"I didn't have time to grab that sort of thing,” you admitted, and immediately felt stupid for doing so. Effie clearly just wanted you to feel at home, and you felt like you were being a downer.

But if it phased Effie, she didn’t show it.

"Well then, that means we get to go buy some new ones, yeah?"

She gave your hands a final squeeze before standing up, saying, “I better let you wake up and enjoy the tea,” and walking towards the hall.

Effie affectionately patted James on the cheek as she passed him.

“Have you had breakfast, dear?”

“Mum!” James shrank away from her, his face growing hot. “I will in a minute!”

She tsked at him, gave his cheek one last pinch, and made her way out of the room. James hung from the doorframe into the hall to watch her go. When she was out of sight, he dipped into your room and shut the door silently behind him.

James' back pressed against the closed door as he shot you a toothy grin.

"Good morning, sunshine," he repeated.

You can't help but giggle at him while saying, "Good morning, Jamie."

As he walked over you, his smile slightly faded as a hint of sadness crept onto his face when he noticed your teary eyes.

One thing you loved about James was that he never resorted to any of those hollow phrases like "don't cry" or "stay strong" when he tried to make you feel better. Instead, he always concocted the perfect cure for the situation. Today, it was goofiness and a lot of kisses.

James made a big show of acting innocent as he approached. He whistled some tune and looked anywhere but you before he suddenly dived at you, embracing your waist with a gentle yet decisive sweep of his arms. He flung his body into the mattress, dragging you down with him. You yelped and chided him through laughter.

When you landed, you were tangled awkwardly—your body twisted so that your torso was on top of his, but his legs were draped over yours. James' arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you trapped as he peppered kisses on your face. He kissed your cheeks and the corner of your eyes, then your eyelids, effectively kissing away any stray tears.

You were a fit of giggles by the time his lips reached the tip of your nose. Next up, he dipped his head to kiss each side of your mouth before finally capturing your lips with his. You giggled through the feathery kisses he pressed on your lips, and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps as he smiled against you.

Soon, laughter overtook you both. Yet you remained close, with your noses brushing against each other and your foreheads pressed together, as your happy laughter filled the room.

Eventually, James' laughter began to die down. He removed one of his hands from your waist to help brush your hair back into place, it having gotten disheveled from his attack.

You settled down as well, letting the touch of his fingertips in your hair calm you. He took notice and continued running his fingers through your hair, even after it was all brushed out of your face.

For a peaceful moment, you gazed into his eyes, which were filled with admiration and mirrored your own. James watched as a glint of mischief suddenly sparkled in your eyes.

"So," you voiced.

"Mhm," he hummed.

"You've clearly never tried to hide something from your mum before."

"Why would I 'ave had to hide something from my mum before?" James pouted, briefly bringing your giggles back. "Only reason I haven't gushed to her about my beautiful girlfriend," James gave your waist a squeeze, "is 'coz she would have qualms with me lying to a friend."

"Oh, so I guess we better go tell Sirius then, yeah? I wouldn't want to make you lie to your dear mum, I like her." You teased, amused by James' eyes widening nervously.

You've talked about telling your brothers before, but it's something neither of you were quite ready for—you were too fond of the blissfulness you found in the privacy of your relationship.

"Er, I don't particularly feel like getting socked in the face today." James said.

"Oh, come on. You think he'd react that badly?" You carried on.

"I think Sirius punching me would be a mild reaction for him." James grimaced, "He'll probably hex me into the next century. And I get chills thinking about what would happen if Regulus were to find out. Oh, I'd be a dead man. Or he'd put an irreversible curse on my bloodline. It's a tossup, really."

Your smile faltered at the mention of your twin brother, suddenly remembering your situation. You let yourself get distracted by the warm welcome from Effie and James' affection. How could you lay here happily while Regulus is still stuck at that house?

Your expression suddenly grew very solemn as you began squirming out of James' grip. "Where's Sirius?" you asked.

James seemed to choke on his own spit. "Uh, pardon? You're not really planning on telling him today?” Despite his protest, James loosened his grip, not wanting to keep you somewhere you didn’t want to be. “At least let me put my Quidditch gear on, I might need the protective padding."

You had tunnel vision the moment Regulus’ name was mentioned, but you realized what James was saying by the time he mentioned protective padding.

“Not that, James. I need to find out about Reg.”

His mouth formed an O shape as you stood at the foot of the bed with your hands on your hips.

“So do you know where he is?”

“Uh, eating breakfast probably,” James guessed, “in the dining room.”

You stared at him expectantly and after a while of him not moving, you huffed, “I don’t know where that is, James!”

“Right!” James scrambled up from the bed so he could lead you through the house. You could’ve found it if you wandered long enough, but the Potters’ house was fairly large, and you wanted to talk to Sirius as soon as possible.

By the time James had led you to the kitchen, you could see Sirius in the next room over through the open archway. You pushed past James at once.

Sirius was alone at the head of the table, various platters of breakfast food surrounding him. The kitchen was hot when you passed through it, so one of James’ parents must have just been cooking, but they were nowhere to be seen now. Sirius was shoveling some sausage onto his plate when he saw you.

“Sirius,” you said sternly as your hands returned to your hips.

“Look who’s finally up!” Your brother cheered, “Just in time to eat.” He gestured at the seat next to him.

James appeared at your side, and said, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Maybe you should have some before you-”

“Where is Regulus?” You interrupted, ignoring James altogether.

James’ utterance of “Yeah, didn’t think so” was lost on your ears.

With a scowl on his face, Sirius turned his attention away from his meal. His eyes scanned over you, and his scowl twisted into an amused expression. “Nice outfit!” he snorted.

You looked down briefly to see yourself drowning in James’ clothes. Being much taller than you, James' sweats pooled at your ankles. You rolled your eyes.

“Stop it, Sirius. Where is our brother?”

Sirius squinted at you. You thought he was finally going to give you answers when he decisively opened his mouth, but instead, “You should sit and eat. James is right, breakfast is the most-”

“Sirius!” You raised your voice, your hands molding into fists as your arms dropped to your sides.

Sirius threw his fork down with a clatter, “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why he’s not here with us.” Your pleading voice cracked as you begged your brother for answers, stepping closer to him.

Sirius had a stormy, faraway look in his eyes, as if recalling something poignant. “The only one who can answer that question is him, so you’re out of luck,” he said bitterly.

The simmering anger in your chest started to bubble, rising up to your throat until you were spitting words that you would later regret. “You left him there!” you accused.

“Excuse me?” Sirius sent a deadly stare your way as he slowly pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Woah,” James tried to interrupt, moving to stand between you two, “Maybe we wanna take a moment and-”

You stepped around James, and his remaining words were drowned out by your raised voice: “I said you left him there. He’s not here because of you.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Sirius bellowed, growing more irritated with you.

“Then why not enlighten me, Sirius!?”

“He chose to stay!" he disclosed. "Alright? I know you think so highly of your favorite brother, but he chose that place!”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed, crossing your arms and looking away.

You ignored Sirius' choice words of "favorite brother." You weren't going to let yourself get distracted by that conversation, which you've had a countless number of times already. Sirius was sensitive to the fact that Regulus was your twin brother, and Sirius would always just be your brother, no matter how many times you told him that you loved them the same.

“I told him to pack, just like you, and he said no. I told him he had to and he refused," Sirius said vindictively.

“Then you should’ve tried harder!" You snapped, spewing words you didn't mean, "Now he’s there alone. He would’ve come if you would've just tried harder, I know it. This is all your fault!”

Sirius reeled back as if you had punched him in the gut. For a moment, he looked hurt, but then anger overwhelmed him. “How could you say that? You weren’t even there!”

“Because you never let me be! I stayed in my room, like you said to, and was out of my mind with worry. Next thing I know, we’re leaving and Regulus isn’t, and that feeling hasn’t gone away because I have no idea how he is. You should’ve grabbed him and dragged him along! You should’ve-“

“Why is everything my fault!? Why is it what I should’ve done!? You don’t even know what he did!” Sirius' nostrils flared with rage.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how your dear Reggie isn’t as good as you think he is," he sneered. "If you only saw him…”

“I don’t care what he did, he’s our brother!" You shouted, "He should be here. It doesn’t matter!”

Sirius slammed his hand on the table, “IT DOESN’T MATTER!?” he screamed, causing you to jump back. Tears immediately began welling in your eyes. No matter what you did, when you were being yelled at, you started crying. You weren't like your brothers, who could hold stone-cold, emotionless expressions despite whatever was swirling within. It was one of the reasons your brothers did what they could to keep your parents away from you—to Walburga and Orion, emotion was weakness.

Your tears didn't phase Sirius like they normally would have. He was too furious. “You want to know what he did?" he asked harshly. "He watched. He watched our parents torture me, and then he just walked away!"

“What did you want him to do?” you cried, “He- he was probably scared,” you hiccuped, “you- you should’ve-“

“I shouldn’t have done anything, goddammit! She crucio’d me! THAT’S what he watched our mother do. THAT’S what he let me deal with alone. I was on the ground unable to get up for damn near thirty minutes, and he knew it!"

Sirius nearly doubled over, grabbing the table in front of him for balance so hard that his knuckles blanched. All of the yelling gave him a head rush, but he wouldn't relent, "So don’t you tell me that I should’ve tried harder. That I should’ve grabbed him. He doesn’t care about me, so why should I care about him?”

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you sobbed. Your parents were cruel, but the Cruciatus Curse? You couldn’t fathom it. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and bile bubbled up in your throat as you recalled Sirius’ scream from the night before.

Neither of you seemed to have anything else to say. You both just stood before each other in your most vulnerable states. It was a miserable sight—you crying your eyes out and Sirius looking sick as a dog.

Neither of you had noticed James leave until he returned. His parents followed closely behind.

"Snitch," Sirius choked out, glaring at his best friend as a fit of coughs hit him, his throat strained from the yelling. He ducked his head down and screwed his eyes shut suddenly, like the light in the room was starting to bother his head.

James didn't seem to care what Sirius thought of him. He was too busy being concerned for you both. Besides, James didn't really snitch. You two were being so loud that his parents were already on their way. He happened to run into them in their pursuit.

"What's going on?" Effie's gentle voice rang through the room, "We could hear yelling from the other side of the house."

Even though James' mum was being stern, she didn't sound angry or upset. Her voice only carried notes of concern and motherly authority.

Neither you nor Sirius answered her, too busy crying and coughing. Both of you would've probably been too sheepish to answer, anyway.

James' parents shared a look with each other, deciding what to do about the situation through eye contact alone.

Fleamont spoke with a firm voice, "Alright, son, we ought to get you up to your room. I think it'd be best for you to lie down." Fleamont clasped a hand on Sirius' shoulder. Your brother let Fleamont assist him in the walk to his room.

Euphemia moved to comfort you, but James stopped her. "Wait, let me."

She raised her eyebrows at her son, skeptical of the idea that her young son was equipped to handle this situation. But James had already started reaching for you, and like a moth to a flame, you melted into his arms the moment you felt his fingertips graze your skin.

Effie's eyes darted between you and her son, settling on him when her features melded into a look of understanding. A million questions raced through her mind. How long had this been going on? Why didn't James tell her? Did James tell Sirius? But the one thing she knew for sure was that you found comfort in James, and comfort was the one thing you needed right now.

She took a deep breath and decided to trust her son. "We'll talk about this later. I'm going to check on Sirius."

"Thanks, Mum." James let out a relieved breath.

"Just... behave."

"Mum!" James blushed, his hands swiftly traveling up to cover your ears with his palms.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that!" Effie waved a hand in the air as she followed in the direction of Fleamont and Sirius.

James noticed your shoulders had started shaking intensely.

“Lovey,” he cooed. He moved his hands to cup your face, tilting it up to look at him. He was surprised to find that the reason for your shuddering shoulders was not because you had started crying harder. You were still crying, but it was mixed with a bit of laughter.

"I guess neither of us are very good at hiding things,” you said, thinking of how you jumped into his arms right in front of his mother.

James shook his head, a single chuckle escaping from his lips.

“Guess not.”

Your moment of humor quickly passed, your eyes turning sad again as more tears spilled out.

James sighed, brushing away your tears with his thumb before pulling you close to his chest. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, pressed kisses to the top of your head, and whispered professions of love and sweet words in your ear while he let you cry. Sometimes, he knew you just needed to let it all out.

Eventually, you let James’ touch and loving words relax you. When your crying was reduced to a sniffle, James veered back so that you could see his face.

“Let’s go on a walk.”

310 notes · View notes