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thinkinonsense · 3 months ago

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Sweet Temptations.

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan

a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3

to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.

there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.

in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.

"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.

"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.

"can we talk?"

"sure."

the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.

"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.

you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"

logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.

"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.

"of course."

there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's bord, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.

"c-can you take my virginity?"

the question almost killed logan. he thought he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.

"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"

"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."

never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.

"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."

"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."

even though he knew the answer, he had to ask, "ever fingered yourself?"

"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.

"want to try it?"

"s-sure but i thought we were gonna–"

"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."

a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans in, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.

"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."

without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.

"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."

"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."

suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.

"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.

"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."

as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.

"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"

you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.

"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.

his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.

"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."

logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.

"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."

logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.

"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.

since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.

"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."

in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.

"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."

before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.

"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"

he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.

"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."

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manikas-whims · 4 months ago

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Love and Deepspace men when the two of you get 0% score on an online compatibility test

ZAYNE

❄️ Doesn’t take it seriously at all. Exaggeratedly raises eyebrows. “You don't actually believe in such nonsense, do you?”

❄️ You do know these are just silly tests made to lure couples and you wouldn't have cared but 0% is too much! And his lack of reaction annoys you. “You should be a little disappointed! Maybe you don't love me as much as you claim! Hmph!” 😤

❄️ Seeing you childishly fold your arms and puff out your cheeks, makes him smile. He pats your head and lowers his head to your face’s level so you're unable to avoid his gaze.

❄️ “Then..let me make it up by doing things that will raise our score.” He suggests. “How about a date? Or a kiss? Or..” His hand slips down your head, fingers leaving a cold trail along your cheek and neck, and come to rest upon your collarbone.

❄️ Your lips part at the gesture. And he tugs at the neckline of your shirt, his voice an octave lower. “Or we can do something more stimulating for a higher score..”

❄️ The compatibility test is long forgotten after that as you get busy with “more stimulating” things.

XAVIER

⭐ Takes it way too seriously. Narrows his brows, practically glares at the test score on your phone’s screen, and pouts. “It shouldn't be that low.”

⭐ You're the one trying to remind him it's just a silly poll on the internet and that it doesn't define the relationship you two share or diminish the love you have for each other. But he just won't be swayed so easily. He’ll try to shoulder all the blame upon himself for that 0% score. “Don’t worry. I’m not blaming you. Maybe it's me.”

⭐ “No way!” You try to be playful about it to cheer him up. “Maybe it's my fault!”

⭐ He’ll give a firm shake of his head to deny your claim. “You give me everything I could ask for and more. It’s definitely because of me.”

⭐ Over the days he becomes more and more loving, looking out for you during missions more than necessary, initiating skinship and romantic gestures whenever he can. So you grab his arm and draw him closer. “If you wanna improve that score so badly, then..” You lick your lips and lower your lashes.

⭐ He immediately gets the hint, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink at the suggestion, and he smiles as he lets his hand run along your thighs. “I can do that.”

RAFAYEL

🌊 He says he doesn't give a fuck but he's watching the results from the corner of his eyes. And he's NOT PLEASED about that 0% score.

🌊 He's gonna be petty about it and blame you for it. And of course, even though you know it’s just an online score, the minute he blames you, you lash back at him. And now you two are just bickering.

🌊 “You go out on missions and don't even text any updates! Leave me worried and distracted for hours! Do you even know how much that affects the creativity of an artist!?” He accuses.

“If you actually loved me, you'd know I'm capable enough to handle myself!” You fire back.

“Oh I'm sorry for giving a damn!” He dramatically throws his hands in the air.

You roll your eyes. “Now don't apologise for caring!”

“Well then stop making me worry!” He whines in exasperation.

🌊 The long argument ends with the two of you puffing your cheeks at each other, only to end up laughing and making up. You two realise how childish you were being over a silly online compatibility test of all.

🌊 He takes hold of your palm and places a kiss on it's back. “Let’s fix that score with dinner at your favourite place. And, ” He winks mischievously and adds, “..breakfast in my bed.”

SYLUS

🐦‍⬛ He knows all these compatibility tests are a scam. But whenever he sees you being excited about something, he indulges. And indulge he will. By taking it a lil seriously.

🐦‍⬛ Will lower his head to peek at your smartphone’s screen and frown at that 0%.

🐦‍⬛ “Well this isn't a surprise.” He states calmly with a shrug. “Thanks to your job, you don't stop by the N109 Zone as often as you used to, kitten. And my schedule keeps me far too occupied for anything else.”

🐦‍⬛ He tucks a hand under his chin and looks thoughtfully. “How about I take my bike and you request your boss for a leave? Then we can head out for a week-long vacation to wherever you want.” He lowers his head then, lips moving along your ear. “And do whatever you want.”

🐦‍⬛ You smack his chest lightly in hopes of hiding your blush at his dirty implications. “You have it all planned out, huh?”

🐦‍⬛ “Only when it comes to you, sweetie.”

i just realized i have so many of these reaction headcanons in my drafts so i’m trying to clean up..gonna try to post more of these again..need to get my head back into writing 🤞

» MASTERLIST «

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gay-dorito-dust · 10 months ago

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Hiii how are you? Could i please request a jealousy fic with jason and dick, like how would they react? What would they do about it? I'm sorry its reallyyy cliche, but i love it anyway💕

Hi anon! I’ve been fine, been taking lots of power naps whenever I can, especially after work, but I’ve fine.

Jason’s jealously more or less comes from a place of insecurity.

He fears that one interaction with the right guy/ girl/ whomever would be enough to make you see that there were better options out there than him.

He never doubts your loyalty to him, never. He wasn’t that pathetic. He just didn’t trust everyone else that even looked at you in the same light as he did on the daily, and it was extremely evident when Jason didn’t like the looks of someone; Furrowed brows over narrowed judging eyes, his form practically towering over you protectively as he stares down the person whom he believes might take you from him.

His protectiveness tends to spike up periodically the moment he see the person get a little too close for comfort and he would clench his jaw to prevent himself from saying something he might regret later on; Jason tries to restrain himself for your sake but it was blatantly obvious that he was on the brink of exploding.

So when you both got home Jason didn’t waste any time in letting you know how he felt during the entire interaction after having forced himself to hold his own tongue.

‘Did you find that person attractive?’ He’d ask.

‘No.’ you said. ‘were you jealous?’

‘I thought me staring down the poor bastard was evident enough.’ Jason scoffs and you hugged his waist all the while pressing reassuring kisses at the base of his neck, when his hands reached to hold yours and intertwine your fingers together.

‘I know that you know I love you very much, no one else catches my eye when I have you,’ you reassured as you pressed another kiss to his neck, ‘my beautiful boy, my beautiful jay birdie.’ You added in a whisper as Jason felt the last remnants of jealously fade away into the background with every kiss you gave him.

‘Are you sure you can see yourself being with me? long term I mean.’ He then says as he squeezed your hands in his search of comfort from you and it broke your heart when he didn’t see himself the way you did, but you were more then willing to kiss and cuddle away his troubles if it meant reminding him of his worth.

‘Without question.’ You confidently told him, squeezing his hands. ‘I don’t see myself with anyone else but you because even though you may not think it, you are more then enough and you are not broken, to me you are whole and you are perfect.’ You finished by pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades and resting your head there as you focused on his breathing.

‘Can…can we just forget about all this and just cuddle like any other cliche couples do?’ Jason asked, finding himself feeling a lot better upon hearing you laugh against his back as a smile crossed his face.

‘Sure big guy.’ You replied. ‘We can go cuddle now.’

And with that Jason was quick to pick you up in his arms and carry you off towards the bedroom where you inevitably feel asleep in the other’s arms, happy and content.

Dick wasn’t one to speak up on his emotions much, which was something that he knew he could better work on for the sake of your relationship with him.

He’s seen himself in the mirror. He knows his own appeal very well but physical appearance were secondary to you as it was his personality that won you over in the end. However he knew that beauty was subjective and that one day you might come across someone more physically appealing than him.

He’d act as though nothing was wrong but if you could easily tell something was off by just his stance alone, crossed arms over chest and a look in his eyes, as though he was trying to deduce the person you were trying to have a civil conversation with.

He may stand close to you and put a hand on your waist or throw an arm over your shoulders, pull you into his side and press a kiss to your forehead with a smile plastered across his face, but he wouldn’t say a word in hopes that would be enough to get across to the person that you were very much taken.

Upon arriving home however, Dick acts he wasn’t even remotely jealous to begin with, despite the glaring fact that he very much was.

‘Me? Jealous?’ He asks incredulously but upon seeing your face, he knew that this act of his had long since stopped working the moment you grew the ability to read him.

‘Yes, you were and you weren’t even trying to make it discreet at all.’ You told him as you settled aside your things on the kitchen counter and sighed. ‘I just wish you would talk to me about these things so that we could get this together like couples should.’

Dick frowned as he moved next to you and gently took your hand in his own, caressing it. ‘I know and I’m sorry that I haven’t been more open and honest with you it’s just-‘

‘You find it difficult to do so I know.’ You cut him off, looking him in the eyes. ‘I don’t blame you for that and I never would, you know that but I just wished that you trust me more to speak to me about these things.’ You tell him as you squeezed his hand. ‘I only want to help you.’

Dick kisses your forehead. ‘I know you do and I appreciate it very much.’ He whispered against your skin. ‘I just don’t know what you see in me sometimes, nor do I understand how you could have possibly put up with me as long as you have given how closed off I can be sometimes.’ He adds as he pulls away, his heart weighing heavily in his chest as he awaits your response.

‘I stay with you because I love you stupid.’ You said softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. ‘And maybe because Hayley is too cute a pup to ever leave.’

‘I had a feeling Hayley was a major factor in you staying.’ Dick laughed. ‘Can’t say I blame you though, she is indeed very cute.’ He adds as he looks over at the staffy, who was very much fast asleep in her little bed in the living room before looking back to you with gentle eyes. ‘But I’m glad that you did stay. I love you too, dummy.’ He utters softly as he nudged you with his shoulder, vowing to himself to do better by you from this day forth.

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flowersforbucky · 4 months ago

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magnetic field

erik lehnsherr x reader

word count: 2k

summary: takes place following the events of days of future past. reader is a mutant with elemental manipulation powers.

a/n: this goes out to the three erik/magneto fans that will read this 🤧 i don't have high hopes for this but i still thought i'd give sharing it a shot. very well may end up deleting it but we will see lol

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst but mostly fluff! kissing, suggestiveness, implied smut but nothing graphic

You just keep me coming back

Something about how opposites attract

You hold me down

I'm in it for real

Love me, leave me high and dry

I'm back in your arms and I don't know why

I can't get around your magnetic field

- magnetic field by lights

It's just past dusk on a Sunday evening when he shows up on your doorstep with drenched clothes and dripping wet hair.

You knew that you were bound to see him again one day. You just didn't expect it to be here, or quite this soon.

“What are you doing here, Erik?”

You cross your arms and lean against the frame of your small cabin's front door, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself as you take in his appearance.

It had only been a few months since you had last seen him in D.C., but those few months had taken their toll on him. Dark circles encase his eyes that appear almost hollow.

“It always seems to rain when you're feeling particularly nervous,” he says with a half smirk. Thunder booms from above as rain beats down harder on the tin roof of your porch.

“It's Oregon,” you shrug. You concentrate on keeping your voice even. “It's rained for the last five days.”

He's not wrong. You do tend to subconsciously make it rain when you're nervous.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really have to ask why I'm here?”

Now it's you who avoids his question. You have your hopes as to why he's here, but you can't bring yourself to feed into them. Not after all this time - after years of trying to move on while he was imprisoned, followed by a brief reunion during the events of Paris and D.C. that left your heart shattered all over again just a few months ago.

Can you really let yourself believe that he's simply here for you?

You raise a single hand to the side of his neck, your palm caressing the wet skin of his throat. His eyes narrow but he doesn't flinch away, only watches you curiously.

A second later, his previously soaked clothes and sopping wet hair are completely dry. He glances down, realizing what you did as you reluctantly pull your hand away from his skin. You think maybe - just maybe - a hint of disappointment flashes through his eyes at the loss of contact.

“Can't have you dripping all over my carpet,” you sigh, turning to retreat back into the house. You hear the front door click shut and you know that he's followed your lead inside.

“So, why Oregon?” He asks hesitantly as he slips his coat off and hangs it on a hook in the foyer. You turn to find him taking in the appearance of the place you've been trying to call home for the last few months. His eyes skim over the piles of books scattered throughout the small living room, and then to the bouquet of wilted zinnias on your dining room table that you had picked in hopes of making the bland space feel more lively.

“I'll answer your questions if you answer mine,” you offer, leaning against the edge of your kitchen counter. He walks to the dining room table a few feet away from you and pulls out a chair, taking a seat in front of where you stand.

“That sounds fair enough to me, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat at the familiar pet name. It feels as if it's been a lifetime since you've heard him call you that.

“I came here once as a kid,” you answer simply. “After what happened a few months ago, I couldn't bring myself to go back to New York. Charles, the mansion.. everything reminded me of you. I just needed to get away for a while.

He looks down at his lap, unable to hold your gaze. “I have so many regre–”

“Your turn,” you interrupt as you turn to the cabinet behind you. You rummage through it, gathering a tea kettle and a mug.

You aren't ready to hear his apologies. As badly as your heart has wanted to hear that he's sorry for so long, to hear him say that he regrets ever doing anything to jeopardize what the two of you had - you don't trust yourself to not crumble into a million pieces at those words now that he's sitting in your kitchen.

“How did you find me?” You ask without looking back at him. You fill the kettle with water, and bring it to a boil in seconds with the snap of your fingers.

“I'll tell you,” he says over the sharp whistle of the kettle. “But you can't laugh at me.”

You snort, pouring the boiling water over an earl grey tea bag as you try to ignore the swell of bitterness in your chest at the nostalgia of it. Memories of this exact scenario in a different time and place flash through your mind - a happier, more innocent time and place. You carry the mug over to where he sits and place it in front of him before pulling out the chair next to him.

You hold out your pinky towards him, elbow on the dining room table. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“I pinky promise that I won't laugh at you,” you say, little finger still extended. He leans forward, lips forming a smirk as he wraps his pinky around yours. His skin is every bit as soft and warm as you remember it being and you dread the moment that he pulls away.

“I went to the mansion,” he answers with his finger still secured around yours. “I snuck into Charles’ study when no one was home and found some letters you had written to him. I saw the return address on the envelope.”

“Huh,” you muse. “I guess I see why you made me promise not to laugh.” You're not sure what you were expecting his answer to be, but you didn’t think it would be quite so… human.

“Your turn to answer a question, darling.”

Your only response is a small nod.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I don’t.”

His posture slackens, relief taking over his features. He leans over to where your fingers are intertwined, and presses his lips to the side of your pinky finger. It has been years since his lips have touched your skin, but you melt at the familiar warmth all the same.

“Good,” he sighs in relief. His breath fans over your skin, leaving a visible trail of goosebumps over your hand. “I do not intend to leave unless you order me away.”

Your eyes burn with tears that threaten to spill over. His sudden appearance, his words, his mere presence after so much time apart is overwhelming. Despite it all, you can’t bring yourself to care about the reasons why you’ve had to spend so much time apart.

He’s here, and that’s enough for you. Everything else can be addressed in time.

You bring your free hand to his face, cupping his jawline in your palm. Your thumb skims over the stubble that graces his cheeks.

“What do we do now?” you wonder aloud. His pale eyes crinkle as he gives you the first smile that you’ve seen from him in years.

“We try to make up for lost time.”

••••••

You heat him some leftovers from the dinner you had made for yourself not long before his arrival, a bowl of chicken noodle soup and homemade bread. He scarfs the food and the tea that you'd made for him down within minutes, and then retreats to your cabin’s small bathroom to rinse off the last few days of cross-country travel. He had brought a singular duffel bag that now rests on the foot of your bed - which just so happens to be the only bed in the house, seeing as how it's a one bedroom and you live here alone.

Butterflies fill your belly at the implication. There was once a time where it never would have been a question - of course the two of you would have shared the only bed in the house. Now, doing so could very well mean diving back in too quickly and ending up broken all over again.

But then again, didn't that become a possibility the second that you opened your door to find him on your porch?

“What’s on your mind?” His soft voice sounds from behind you. You had been so lost in thought that you didn't hear him exit the bathroom and wander back down the hallway.

You turn to find him leaning against your bedroom door frame, wearing only a towel that hangs loosely from his hips. His chestnut hair still drips wet.

Your eyes flicker between him and the spare quilt that you have piled in your arms.

“You can sleep in here,” you tell him with a nod towards the bed that you'd just put a set of fresh sheets on. “I'll take the couch.”

He chuckles lowly, standing up straight as you walk towards the door, blocking your exit.

“Don't be silly. I'm not going to kick you out of your bed in your own home,” he tells you in a gentle but firm tone.

“You're not kicking me out of my bed,” you assure him. “I'm offering it to you.”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze that you struggle to hold - your eyes threatening to wander down the expanse of his chest with the rise and fall of each breath that he takes.

“It's loads comfier that whatever cot that you were sleeping on in prison, I promise,” you jab at him lightly when he doesn't respond.

He hums in consideration, taking a step closer to you.

“It's not the cot that I minded so much while I was in prison. It's the fact that any bed without you in it feels empty.”

A clap of thunder booms in the distance at the same time that your heart skips a beat.

“I'm not expecting anything to happen, darling,” he assures you lightly. “We don't even have to touch. After so much time apart, I just want to be next to you.”

You exhale a breath that you didn't realize you had been holding in, and place the quilt in your arms on the dresser right next to you.

“Don't be silly,” you repeat his sentiment from just moments ago. You take a step closer to him, now able to smell hints of Old Spice soap from his shower. “Of course you can touch me. If that's what you want.”

“If that's what I want?” He scoffs softly, inching towards you. You place your hands on his hips, walking backwards until your thighs brush against the edge of your mattress. You're lodged between him and the bed, his bare chest practically brushing against yours.

“As if I’d ever not want that.”

He raises his hands to each side of your face and tilts your head up to look at him. His thumb massages over the swell of your bottom lip, his eyes locked on your mouth.

“Erik,” you breathe, and before you can get out another word, his lips are slated over yours. You pull him flush against you by your hold on his waist.

When you close your eyes and focus solely on the feeling of his mouth moving in synchrony with yours, you forget where you're at and everything that's happened over the course of the last decade. In this moment, you're not in a run down cabin in the middle of nowhere Oregon - you're in the courtyard of the mansion and he's kissing you for the very first time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers against your mouth when he pulls away. You raise up on your toes, pressing your lips against his one more time before pulling back to stare up at him with a smirk. You sit down on the edge of the mattress and scoot back, pulling him down with you.

“Then let's make up for lost time.”

You don’t notice it until you're drifting to sleep in each other's arms hours later, but the thunderstorm that had been raging upon his arrival had slowed to a silent, peaceful mist.

thank you for reading ♡ comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

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taurasiluvr · 7 months ago

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I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU WITH ANYONE BUT ME / NOBODY GETS ME LIKE YOU / HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LET YOU GO? / ONLY LIKE MYSELF WHEN I'M WITH YOU / NOBODY GETS ME, YOU DO──BELLINGHAM⁵

how you can help palestine

★ been thinking about fwb!jude, blame ev for the filth you're all about to read.

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, minors dni. friends with benefits, smut with plot, p in v, unprotected sex, cheating (on r's bf), nothing too insane

⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; i am sooooo down bad for jude, he's my husband. also why do 80% of my fics have to do with cheating ummmm

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 5.5k

you didn't really know how this arrangement had began, all you knew was that it was very much due to jude's very evident commitment issues.

okay, maybe commitment issues were a stretch. you'd seen how he treated his friends and family with unwavering loyalty. but when it came to relationships, there was always a barrier, an unspoken rule that he couldn't let anyone get too close. or maybe he just didn't want to ─ you weren't too sure.

it all started innocently enough.

you and jude had been friends for a while, always hanging out with the same group, always finding yourselves paired off in conversations or at the same end of the couch during movie nights. there was a comfort in your friendship, a kind of ease that made everything feel natural and genuine.

one night, after a particularly intense game and a few too many drinks, you found yourselves alone in his apartment. the air was thick with a tension that had been building for months. one thing led to another, and suddenly you were waking up in his bed, sheets tangled around your legs and his arm draped over your waist.

the next morning, you both agreed it was a one-time thing, a slip-up that wouldn't happen again.

but it did. over and over, until it wasn't just an accident anymore. it became an unspoken arrangement, a way for both of you to satisfy needs without the complications of a real relationship.

you knew it wasn't ideal. you knew that every time you woke up in his bed, you were getting a little more attached, a little more hopeful that maybe he would see you as more than just a friend with benefits. but you also knew that jude had his walls up for a reason, and trying to tear them down could end up ruining everything.

so, you kept going. you played your role, took what you could get, and tried not to think about what it meant for the future.

because as long as you had him in some way, it was better than not having him at all.

seeing him with other women was the worst part of it all. now you knew you didn't really have any rational reason to be mad because he wasn't your boyfriend ─ he was just... well, it was complicated.

you hated the gut-wrenching feeling when you saw him talking to a beautiful girl at a party, his charming smile lighting up his face in a way that made your heart ache. tt was a reminder that while you had a piece of him, it wasn’t enough to keep him from seeking out others.

you tried to mask your feelings, laughing along with your friends and pretending not to notice when he slipped away with someone new. But inside, you were screaming. the rational part of you understood that you had no claim over him, no right to be jealous. yet, the emotional part couldn't help but feel a sting of betrayal every time.

⠀ ── ⠀

one night, it got to be too much. you saw him at a club, his arm around a girl's waist as he whispered something into her ear, making her giggle. your stomach churned, and before you knew it, you were outside, gulping in the cool night air to calm the nausea.

when you had come back inside, your initial hurt turned into bitterness. now you usually weren't so petty ─ but if jude was allowed to go and flirt with other people, why couldn't you?

you sat down at the bar, finding some solace with the alcohol you were drinking. you knew your bait had worked when you felt someone eyeing you in your peripheral, a small smile on your face.

"hello,"

he had a slight accent, his voice was gruff and sent a shiver down your spine. you turned to face him, taking in his rugged features and confident demeanor. he was attractive, no doubt, and the way he looked at you made you feel a flicker of excitement.

"hi," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

he leaned against the bar, his gaze never leaving yours. "can i buy you a drink?"

you nodded, pushing aside the guilt that tugged at your conscience. "sure, why not?"

as you sipped the cocktail he ordered for you, you couldn't help but steal glances across the room, where jude was still engrossed in conversation with the girl. the sight fueled your determination to go through with this. if jude could have his fun, so could you.

"so, what brings you here tonight?" the man asked, his eyes glinting with interest.

you shrugged, taking another sip. "my friends told me i needed to get out, they say i've been stuck in the office for too long."

he chuckled, a low sound that made your skin tingle. "i get that. they're some good friends."

the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself relaxing in his company. he was charming and attentive, qualities that made you feel desired in a way jude never fully did. but even as you laughed at his jokes and flirted back, a part of you remained painfully aware that this was all a distraction, a way to numb the hurt.

as the night wore on, he moved closer, his hand resting on your lower back. you allowed it, leaning into the touch, craving the comfort it provided. but just as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, you caught sight of jude watching you from across the room, his expression unreadable.

your heart skipped a beat, a mix of triumph and regret flooding through you. you had his attention now, but at what cost? you broke away from jude's gaze, your attention fully on the man next to you.

however, before you knew it ─ you two were interrupted.

"y/n," jude's voice seemed steady but as you turned to face him, his expression nothing short of intense. his eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.

"jude," you replied, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. the man next to you shifted awkwardly, sensing the tension.

jude's jaw tightened as he glanced at the guy beside you, then back at you. "it's getting late, let's get outta here."

"that's funny, i was just about to ask her that." the man spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice before he cleared his throat, noting that his commentary was certainly not needed.

you blinked up at him, your lips curving into a sarcastic smile. "why don't you go ask the girl who's been keeping you busy all night?"

"that's what this is about?" jude let out a huff, his gaze boring into yours. "jealousy?"

"oh, you shouldn't be talking." you shot back, your voice tinged with bitterness. "you’ve been parading around with other women all night. don’t act like you’re innocent."

jude's eyes flashed with anger. "i wasn’t doing anything different than what we've been doing all along. you knew what this was from the start."

"yeah, i did," you snapped. "but it doesn't make it any easier to watch you with someone else."

the man next to you awkwardly excused himself, sensing the argument escalating. jude barely noticed as he took a step closer to you, his frustration palpable. "so, what? you decided to flirt with some random guy to get back at me? i don't like pettiness, you know that."

you crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground. "no, not everything is about you. maybe you just don't do it for me anymore, have you thought about that? you're not everyone's ideal man, jude."

jude stared back at you, trying to process what you just said. "oh really?" he let out a laugh but it was void of the usual amusement. were you really trying to come for his ego now?

"really," you responded, standing your ground.

"so i don't do it for you anymore, is that right?" jude glared back at you as he walked closer, his tall frame towering over you. "what's it, exactly? cause i know you're not coming for my bedroom skills."

"bingo," you answered with a smirk, grabbing the drink from the table as you took a sip. "you're exactly right."

he let out a soft chuckle as his gaze darkened. "really that guy could fuck you like i do? nobody could fuck you like i do."

you felt excitement in his words, knowing you were hitting him where it hurts. and you'd hoped it'll pay off at the end of the night. "you really think you're that good?"

"i know it,"

"cocky, jude. very cocky," you purred, stepping closer to him.

the heat between you was palpable, the air thick with unresolved tension. you could feel the intensity of his gaze as it roamed over your face, down your body, and back up to meet your eyes.

"confident," he corrected, his voice low and husky. "there's a difference."

you raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "is that right?"

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "you know it is. and i'll can prove it to you."

a shiver ran down your spine at the closeness of his body, the warmth of his breath on your skin. you set your drink down and placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your touch.

"prove it, then," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

jude's eyes darkened further, a predatory gleam in them as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "i will, make you remember who fucks you the best."

you licked your lips, your breath hitching as his thumb traced your lower lip. "i'm counting on it,"

with a growl, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hand tightening around your waist as he deepened the kiss. you melted into him, all the anger and frustration from earlier dissipating in the heat of the moment. his lips were demanding, his touch possessive, as if he was claiming you all over again.

your hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more. jude responded by lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the exit. the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the electricity sparking between your bodies.

as he pushed open the door to his car and placed you inside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. something real. but you knew that was wishful thinking.

jude climbed in after you as he started the car and drove toward his place. the journey was a blur of heated kisses and whispered promises, both of you unable to keep your hands off each other.

and by the time you reached his apartment, the anticipation was nearly unbearable. he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him before setting you down and pinning you against the wall, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck.

"still think that guy could compare to me?" he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your body.

you moaned softly, arching into his touch. "no," you admitted breathlessly.

he smiled against your neck, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it over your head. "good. cause you’re mine, and i’m going to show you just how much you mean to me."

he carried you toward the bed, placing you down gently before hovering over you, his eyes burning with desire. you could feel the tension in the air, the electricity between you crackling with intensity.

jude's hands moved with a possessive urgency, trailing over your skin as if he needed to memorize every inch of you. your breath hitched as he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

his hands were deft and skilled, knowing exactly how to make you gasp and shiver under his touch. clothes were discarded in a frenzy, the need to feel each other skin-to-skin overwhelming, leaving you naked. when he finally pushed into you, it felt like coming home, a perfect fit that made you both moan in unison.

"all mine," he whispered against your lips, his thrusts steady and deep. "don't ever forget that."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back as you matched his rhythm, losing yourself in the sensation. the way he moved, the way he touched you, it was like he was trying to prove a point with every thrust. and maybe he was. maybe this was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him, how much he needed you.

he pulled your hips upward, sitting up as he fucked into you like a starved man. his grip on your hips was firm, almost bruising, as he pulled you closer, thrusting deeper with each movement.

the intensity of his gaze bore into you, a mix of lust and possessiveness that made your heart race. your body arched off the bed, meeting him halfway, every sensation amplified by the sheer need radiating between you.

"god, you're so perfect," he groaned, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. the combination of pleasure and the raw intensity in his voice made you shiver, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

you were completely at his mercy, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you, building higher and higher. his pace quickened, a desperate edge to his movements as if he couldn't get enough of you. you could feel the tension coiling in your core, your breaths coming in short gasps as you neared the edge.

"cum for me," he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

the command was all it took. your body tensed, the pleasure cresting in a powerful wave that crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. jude's eyes darkened with satisfaction as he watched you, his own control slipping as he followed you over the edge, his release spilling into you with a groan.

for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the aftermath of your shared intensity leaving you both spent and sated. jude collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his hold gentle now, almost tender.

"mine," he murmured again, his lips brushing your temple. "always."

you nestled against him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "always," you echoed, the word a promise and a reminder of the connection that bound you together, for better or worse.

after that night, sex was how you fixed every little dispute you had. sure it wasn't healthy but sure as hell worked, he made sure you forgot all about why you were angry in the first place. yeah, he was cocky but it was for a reason.

⠀ ── ⠀

you still yearned for more.

you knew that was wishful thinking, jude was too focused on his career to even think about girls. you were the only one that he kept and you didn't know why, but you couldn't deny that it made you feel special, even if it wasn't in the way you truly wanted.

you were his escape, his relief from the pressures of his demanding life, and while you cherished the moments you had together, you couldn't shake the longing for something deeper, something more meaningful.

you often found yourself lying awake at night, replaying your conversations and encounters, searching for any sign that he might feel the same way. but jude was a closed book, his intentions unclear. it was both frustrating and intoxicating, leaving you constantly on edge, hoping for more but never quite sure if it would ever come.

one evening, after another intense round of making up, you lay in his arms, the room quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths. jude's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, a touch of tenderness that made your heart ache.

"jude," you began hesitantly, unsure if you should voice the thoughts that had been plaguing you. "do you ever think about what this... what we could be if things were different?"

he stiffened slightly, his hand pausing its movements. "what do you mean?"

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "i mean, if you weren't so focused on football, do you think we could be more than just... this?"

jude was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost distant. "i don't know. my career is everything to me. it's what i've worked for my whole life."

"i get that," you said softly, turning to look at him. "but it doesn't mean you can't have something more, someone who supports you and is there for you."

he sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of regret and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "if... if things were different, sure. but not right now, i don't have time for all that right now."

all that, he called it, as if your feelings and the possibility of a deeper relationship were just another burden on his already full plate. the sting of his words was sharp, but you tried to keep your voice steady.

"all that," you repeated, a bitter smile tugging at your lips.

jude's expression softened, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "y/n, it's not that i don't want it. it's just... i can't handle more than i already have. my career, the constant travel, the pressure — it's overwhelming."

you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again to meet his gaze. "i get it, it's okay."

having some of him is better than have none of him, you kept reminding yourself as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. you lay there for a while, listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you, the knowledge that you would always come second to his career. but in those quiet moments, it was hard to focus on the negative. there was something so peaceful about being in his arms, so right, that made it difficult to let go.

days turned into weeks, and the cycle continued. you took what you could get, savoring the good moments and enduring the difficult ones. your friends started to notice the change in you, the way your mood would swing based on your interactions with jude. they would offer concerned looks and ask if everything was okay, but you always brushed them off with a smile and a nonchalant "i'm fine."

deep down, you knew they were right to worry. the emotional toll of your arrangement with jude was starting to wear on you, and you were constantly on edge, wondering when the next blow would come. you tried to distract yourself with work and hobbies, but nothing seemed to fill the void that jude left when he wasn't around.

⠀ ── ⠀

THREE MONTHS LATER

⠀ ── ⠀

it's crazy how much could change within 3 months. after a while, you stopped talking to jude and he understood why ─ you were hurting and you needed time. you found a boyfriend and of course jude wasn't too happy about that, but he couldn't really do anything about it.

you met your boyfriend at a friend’s birthday party. he was charming, attentive, and most importantly, he was ready for a relationship. things moved quickly, and soon enough, you found yourself in a stable, happy relationship. he treated you with the care you had longed for, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you were moving forward.

it didn't stop you from missing jude. the excitement you got from the way his presence made your heart race, was something you couldn’t easily forget. despite your boyfriend's kindness and the stability he offered, there was a lingering sense of something unfulfilled, a part of you that still yearned for the intensity you once had with jude.

one evening, as you and your boyfriend were having dinner at your favorite restaurant, your phone buzzed with a message. you glanced at it, your heart skipping a beat when you saw jude's name.

jude: miss you.

you quickly turned your phone face down, trying to focus on the conversation with ben, but the message stayed with you, echoing in your mind. you couldn’t deny that a part of you missed him too, missed the thrill and the connection you shared.

⠀ ── ⠀

the euros had came and your friends had bought tickets to go see england in the quarterfinals versus switzerland, they eventually convinced you to come. the thought of seeing jude on the pitch, representing his country, filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

on the day of the match, the stadium was buzzing with energy. you and your friends found your seats, the sea of england fans creating a vibrant atmosphere. as the players took to the field, your eyes were immediately drawn to jude. he looked focused, determined, and undeniably handsome in his england kit.

the match was intense, with both teams fighting hard for a place in the semifinals. you cheered along with the crowd, your emotions swinging with every close call and near miss. seeing jude play with such passion and skill reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place.

when the final whistle blew, signaling england's victory, the celebration in the stadium was electric. you watched as jude and his teammates hugged, their faces alight with joy. you couldn't take your eyes off him, feeling a deep sense of connection despite the physical distance between you.

after the match, your friends had gotten invited to the celebratory party due to their connections to the english players. you knew you'd eventually be seeing jude and you just had to trust yourself to not fall in his trap once again.

well, you were wrong.

your legs tightened around jude's waist as he pushed the door of his hotel room open, his lips never leaving yours. he closed the door with his foot, pushing you against it when it closed.

you moaned against his lips as his hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. his kisses were demanding, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. you could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held you close as if afraid you might slip away.

"jude," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. "we shouldn’t be doing this."

"i know," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck. "can’t help it. i need you, y/n. how can i celebrate without you?"

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and any resolve you had left melted away. you had tried to move on, to build a new life with your boyfriend, but being in jude's arms again felt like coming home.

"just this once," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "just this once," he agreed, though you both knew it was a lie.

with a growl, he captured your lips again, his hands gripping your hips as he carried you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body pressing against yours as he deepened the kiss. you could feel the heat between you growing, the familiar ache of desire spreading through you.

"god, i’ve missed this," he groaned, his hands sliding under your shirt. "missed you."

"me too," you admitted, your breath hitching as his fingers brushed against your skin.

clothes were quickly discarded until you were in left in your bra and underwear, the urgency between you leaving little room for hesitation. jude's touch was both familiar and electrifying, every caress reminding you of the connection you had tried so hard to forget. he moved with a confidence that made your heart race, his hands and lips worshipping your body as if making up for lost time.

"mine," he murmured against your ear, his voice rough with emotion. "no one else can make you feel like this."

"yes," you gasped, arching into his touch. "i’m yours, jude. always."

his eyes darkened with possessiveness, a primal satisfaction evident in his gaze. "i’ll never let you go again," he promised, his lips crashing into yours with renewed fervor.

his hands found your hips as he pushed you into the mattress, you let out another moan at his roughness. something your boyfriend never managed to do, you were never satisfied with the sexual part of your relationship.

he began rubbing his finger against your clothed core, his ego skyrocketing at the wetness that was already soaking through your panties. "look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride. "so wet for me."

you whimpered in response, your hips bucking against his hand. "jude, please," you begged, the need in your voice unmistakable.

"please what?" he teased, his fingers slipping under the fabric to stroke you directly. "tell me what you want, y/n."

"i want you," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "i need you inside me, jude. now."

"oh yeah?" his voice was hoarse as he gazed down at you, taking in your form. he stopped his movements as he licked his lips, "does he fuck you like i do? tell me."

jude was teasing and you hated it. you also loved it, loved the way he made you work for it.

"no," you admitted breathlessly, your hips moving in a desperate attempt to find some friction. "no one fucks me like you do, jude. only you."

a satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "that's what i thought," he murmured, his fingers resuming their torturous movements. "you're mine, y/n. always have been, always will be."

"please," you begged, your voice breaking with need. "i need you, jude. please."

"aw, poor baby. bet you haven't cum in a while, right? he looks like he doesn't know how to fuck, right?" jude mocked as he leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "he's a damn loser. let me show you how a real man fucks, yeah?"

"please," you repeated as you nodded, too lost in the pleasure to think clearly.

he chuckled softly, clearly relishing the power he held over you. "since you asked so nicely," he said, positioning himself at your entrance. with a single, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, drawing a loud moan from your lips.

the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain. jude moved with a possessiveness that left you breathless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

his hands found your hips as he began fucking into you, your body arching to meet his every thrust. each movement was deliberate and intense, a reminder of the connection you shared and the passion that had never truly faded.

"god, you feel so good," he groaned, his grip tightening as he quickened his pace. "so tight, fuck. like you were made for me."

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. "only you, jude. no one else."

the words seemed to drive him wild, his thrusts becoming even more frantic as he pushed you both closer to the edge. the room was filled with the sounds of your bodies, each moan and gasp a testament to the intensity of the moment.

"can't get enough of you," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "i need you, y/n. always."

"always," you echoed, your own voice trembling with the force of your feelings. "i'm all yours, jude."

the coil of pleasure inside you tightened with each thrust, building to a crescendo that left you breathless and desperate for release. jude's movements became almost frenzied, his own need evident as he chased his climax.

"cum for me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "wanna feel you come around me."

the words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the intensity of your orgasm. you cried out his name, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

jude followed moments later, his own release hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, as if he was reclaiming all over again. for a long moment, you both lay there, tangled together and utterly spent.

finally, he shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. you nestled against him, savoring the warmth and closeness. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a tender gesture that made your heart ache with longing.

"break up with him," he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"jude..." you moved your head so you could face him, a frown curving your lips. "it's not that easy,"

"you just cheated on him and all it took were a couple drinks." he replied nonchalantly, his voice tinged with annoyance. "obviously he doesn't fuck you well, cause you felt this the moment i touched you."

"it's not just about that," you protested, your voice a mixture of guilt and frustration. "he's a good guy. he treats me well, and i do care about him."

"but you don't love him," jude shot back, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "not the way you love me."

the truth in his words stung, and you knew he was right. but breaking up with your boyfriend wasn't just about ending a relationship; it meant facing the reality of your feelings for jude and the complicated situation you found yourselves in.

"i don't want to hurt him," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"but you can't keep pretending." he spoke, his gaze never leaving yours. "look, i know... i was selfish."

was, as in past tense. you noted.

"i wasn't thinking about what you wanted and... i knew i wasn't fulfilling your emotional needs. i didn't know what i had til you left," jude continued, his voice sincere. "god, nobody does it like you. i've looked but nobody feels like you and it's deeper than just sex it's..."

he paused, feeling vulnerable as he sighed. where was he even going with this?

"it's everything," jude finally said, his voice softening. "it's the way you make me feel, the way you understand me without me having to say a word. it's the way you laugh, the way you support me, the way you just... get me."

you felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making you believe every word. it was everything you had wanted to hear, but the reality of your situation made it hard to fully embrace it.

"jude, i need you to understand that this isn't just about you and me," you said gently, trying to convey the complexity of your feelings. "i do care about ben, and breaking up with him is going to hurt him. i can't just ignore that."

"i know," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek. "and i'm not asking you to ignore it. i'm asking you to be honest with yourself and with him. you deserve to be happy, and so does he. even if it means going through some pain first."

you sighed, knowing he was right. it was a difficult decision, but staying in a relationship where your heart wasn't fully invested was unfair to both you and ben.

"okay," you said softly, leaning into his touch. "i'll talk to him. but jude, i need you to promise me something."

"anything," he replied, his eyes full of determination.

"i need you to be all in," you said, your voice steady despite the emotion in your chest. "if we're going to do this, i need to know that you're committed, that this isn't just about the thrill or the sex. i need to know that you're ready for something real."

jude's eyes softened, and he nodded, his hand gently squeezing yours. "i promise, y/n. i'm all in. i want this to work, more than anything. and i'll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that."

with those words, a sense of resolve settled over you. it wouldn't be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time, you felt like you were moving in the right direction.

as you lay back in his arms, feeling the warmth and security of his embrace, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter. one where you were finally choosing to follow your heart, no matter where it led.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham blurb #england nt #england national team #real madrid #bellingham #jb5

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eyra · 1 month ago

Text

stuff what I have learnt about writing good

If you've followed me for longer than two minutes then you'll likely know (because I keep going on about it) that I've been working on a novel for the past year. It's always been a dream of mine to write and publish a book and whilst I still have a long way to go before I can even start thinking about querying (whether on this book, or the next, or the next, etc.) I suppose I can now say that a book Exists. I have written A Book.

Now whether or not that book ever sees the light of day, the process of writing it has been truly eye-opening. I went in knowing virtually nothing and came out, still with a huge amount to learn, but with a whole library of tools that I didn't have before. I'm now putting these to use with the first draft of my second book and already the process feels so much more enjoyable, because I've started to figure out how to make it work for me.

I wanted to jot down what I've learnt purely for my own reference so I can keep looking back and reminding myself what worked for me first time around, but given that I get a nice number of asks picking my brain about my own writing process, I thought I might as well share all this with you lot in case there's anyone out there who finds it useful!

So here are the big things that I've learnt so far...

1. Not every trick works for every writer

This has been, by far, my biggest learning. Starting to plan a novel for me felt SO overwhelming - I felt like I was bombarded on all sides with "this is how to write a novel" content, and it felt like there was just too much to learn and like I would never find my way through it. I spent weeks (months...) doing every worksheet, every outlining method, every chart, anything I could get my hands on. Some of them, by the end, proved themselves very useful. A lot of them didn't. There are thousands of voices online that are telling you "this is the right way to write a book" or even "this is the ONLY way to write a book" - don't listen to them. Try things, but don't feel like you have to fit yourself into every single box. Just find the things that work for you.

2. It's possible to overplan

On a related note - sometimes you just need to start writing. I spent WAY TOO LONG faffing about before I put pen to paper with my first book. So, so long planning out characters and plot points, a lot of which I then had to completely reimagine mid-draft because I realised they just didn't work anymore. In hindsight, some of this was down to me being scared to actually start writing - the planning stage was a bit of a comfort zone for me, despite not naturally being a plotter/architect - I have always always always been a pantser/gardener, but I got sucked into the whole "proper authors do it THIS way" narrative.

With my second novel, I did a nice amount of planning but then just bit the bullet and started drafting. I know where my story begins, ends, what my major themes are, I know all my main characters and I know my key plot points. The rest, I'm figuring out as I draft. If nothing else - I'm having a lot more fun this time around.

3. Think about voice and tense before drafting

Yeah duh obvious right? NOT TO ME. If you were following me around April time, you may have witnessed a series of minor breakdowns when I realised that, having written a whole first draft in third person present tense, the entire book should actually have been written in first person past tense. So that meant, basically, starting over from scratch. This was a big learning for me, and not a mistake I'm likely to make again.

4. Stop looking at your word count

For someone who's never really put much thought into word count before - my approach with fanfiction has already been "it'll be as long as it'll be" - I got OBSESSED with the word count of my first couple of drafts. A lot of people will tell you that any good novel "has to be" under 100k words. I constantly see this one post on Pinterest that says "I promise you that you can tell the story you want to tell in 100k words or under." I'm definitely no expert on this (and I'll eat my words when an agent tells me my manuscript needs cutting down), but I'm sceptical - a lot of stories can and should be under 100k words, sure, but most of my favourite books are much longer than this. However, I did get stuck in a "this manuscript has to be between 70k and 100k words" mindset and felt like a failure whenever it was sitting outside of that bracket. Also - keep your genre in mind. If you're writing a rom-com, 70k could work perfectly. If you're writing fantasy, you're probably going to go over that.

5. Know whether you're an overwriter or an underwriter

And related to the above - know whether you tend to write bare bones-style then add to it, or whether you tend to dump it all on the page then cut back later. I'm the first, and I knew this, but I still panicked when my first draft was only around 70k. I felt like it was rushing through the plot at an unreasonable pace and it didn't feel "finished". This was because it was a first draft. By the time I sent my manuscript to my beta reader, it was around 126k.

6. The dumb stuff works

The title of the document for my first draft was "XXX - worst possible version" and at multiple points during the drafting process I changed the font to Comic Sans size 48. It works. Completely takes the pressure off and gives you full permission to write big, write silly, write unhinged, write mad things that you'll cut back by 90% later. But it gets it all on the page. If you're stuck or cringing at yourself in Times New Roman size 12, try Comic Sans size 48.

7. Don't compare your first draft to your favourite book

Like an idiot, I did this. I still find myself doing it. It's possibly my worst writing habit. I'll type out a page at 11pm after a full day at work and no dinner and then I'll pick up a published book and think "ah man, the page I've just written is nowhere NEAR as good as this." Published books are fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh drafts that then go through months and months of editing. Do not compare your manuscript to a published book. Just don't do it.

8. Don't try to be That Author

Good writers are good readers. Absolutely read broadly, read deeply, just read. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, everything. And it's fine to find yourself influenced by other writers - that's how writing works. But don't try to BE other writers. One of the issues I had to unpick last year was that I was reading a lot of authors whose writing styles are very different to my own. I know my own style fairly well by this point - fanfiction's a great sandbox for figuring that out - but at certain moments during my editing phases I found myself cutting away at my prose because it felt "too different" to the books I was reading at the time. This was a weird thing for me to have done, and I went back and fixed it later.

I think what I'm trying to say with this one is: take inspiration from everywhere, let yourself be influenced by different writing styles, but find your own voice and trust it. Literature already has a Sally Rooney and a Donna Tartt and a Leigh Bardugo. It doesn't need a clone - it needs you!

I'll finish by sharing what I've found to be the most useful plotting template. This obviously isn't the total extent of my planning process by any means, but after trying about a million different plotting techniques for my first manuscript, this is the one:

The 27 chapter method (more examples here)

And finally, two little character tricks that I find invaluable:

AITAH?

Character philosophy

I hope someone out there finds something useful in this post! Although I've been writing in some capacity since I was a teenager, 2024 was definitely the year I realised that I am a writer at my core. I want to be a published author, but I'm already a writer. It brings me happiness like nothing else in the world! And I love to talk about all aspects of writing, so my ask box is always very much open.

Happy scribbling! x

#writing stuff #my writing #book stuff #book 2 stuff

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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

Text

The Arrangement (3) - Inconvenience

Chapter summary: It is poetic irony that sharing a prison cell with Astarion is what eventually gets the two of you attempting to have a much needed conversation...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Poison sucking. Blood. Angst.

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

"You're bleeding."

"I know."

"It's distracting."

"Then look away."

He scoffed. "I can smell it."

It really wasn't a desirable occurrence to end up in one of Baldur's Gate's prisons. The last time you had the displeasure of descending into one was to liberate Gortash's victims from the Iron Throne Prison.

You had rarely been on the side that needed rescuing.

But fate worked in strange ways and had you thrown into a cold and rusty cell, trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

The torches scattered along the pillars of stone outside the cell provided little to no sufficient light, and it only added to the looming sense of dread.

Ripping a scrap of cloth from your clothing, you wrapped it firmly around the bleeding slash across your wrist.

Astarion sat across from you, eyeing your every move with a faint smile on his lips.

"You could have just run away, you know," you began, bringing your knees up to your chin with a sigh. "You are immune to Sleep spells."

He scoffed again with an eye-roll. "Please. I allowed myself to get caught. Gods know you could use the help."

The throb in your head intensified and you winced as discomfort tore through your body, as his words hit you.

"What help? We're both trapped inside," you ground out in annoyance.

He lifted a finger. "That, my dear, is merely an inconvenience. I am quite sure I'd be able to lockpick our way out of this."

The damp-scented mattress underneath you squeaked as you leaned against the ragged wall. "Using what? Your fangs?"

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Creative, but no. I just need to find anything to help me get through that lock." He rose to his feet and moved to inspect the sturdy door with attentive eyes.

As promising as it sounded, you knew deep down that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The guards had stripped both of you down to only your shirts and trousers, and removed anything deemed too creative.

Besides, this whole ordeal had to be a misunderstanding of sorts. It would be wise to, at least, get some enlightenment.

"Maybe we should just wait for Wyll."

He turned to you, a touch of disbelief crossing his face. "His guards put us here, in case you need a reminder."

"We did nothing wrong," you said, clutching on to reason. "We are not criminals. It's all a misunderstanding, I'm sure."

Whether it was a case of you trying to believe your own words, or because there was truth to them, remained to be seen.

As a sorcerer, it would be rather easy to blast through the cell door and be done with it, but you would only entertain that option as a last resort.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," he said in resignation, curious fingers still prodding the lock. "At least, they didn't shove us in a cell with windows."

The lack of any opening to the outside had made it hard for you to keep track of time, but given the silence and snores from the inhabitants in the adjacent cells, you reckoned the sun had yet to rise.

Astarion would be safe from its scorching rays, for the time being.

You felt something trickling down your wrist, and upon closer inspection, you realised the cloth around it was soaked with your blood.

Odd.

Astarion was still very much entertained with the hinges and structure of the cell door to take notice of your finding.

You quickly brought another rag torn from your cloak and wrapped even tighter over the existing one, applying as much pressure as you could withstand through the pain.

Very odd.

He was now squatting down, taking a closer look at the lock, fingers tugging and rattling the device.

A true rogue at heart.

"Or, I could be sharing this cell with someone far less entertaining – like Gale," he continued. "I'd just beg the guards for a stake to rid myself of my misery."

He finished off with a dramatic laugh, but you found yourself scowling deeply.

"Can you give Gale some credit where it's due? He's helping you out."

His narrowed crimson eyes met yours. "By 'helping' you mean what, exactly? Cooking abhorrent meals and reading books that would put a screeching babe to sleep? Hardly helpful, darling."

You decided to fully ignore his taunt as patience slipped from your tired mind.

"He's going to Waterdeep in a fortnight to speak with someone willing to help out with the Wish spell," you informed as calmly as possible. "I was on my way to tell you that a couple of hours ago before… well, this happened."

His features eased and he rose to his full height, his undivided attention on you.

"Truly? That sounds promising, I suppose," he said, folding his arms. "And here I thought you were simply longing for my company. My apologies, darling."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but you would never let him know.

Suddenly, the sound of metal shrieking echoed throughout the room, and a jab of pain drummed steadily in your head.

"Wake up, you loiter-sacks!" One of the guards yelled.

Pandemonium ensued.

A wave of groggy protests were heard all around. The insults and taunts came immediately after, and your eyes widened at the vulgarity of all of it, while Astarion held the most amused smile you had ever seen on him in a long while.

He truly thrived in all things chaotic.

Another voice was heard. "Shut it, will ya?! Or no food!"

It effectively subsided most of the protests, though an occasional whispered 'fucker!' slipped through the mouths of some prisoners.

Squeaking wheels of a cart came to a halt just outside your cell, and you bolted out of the mattresses, gripping the vertical metal bars.

"Can you please call for Wyll. We need to talk to him."

The grumpy man frowned. "Am just delivering food, sweetheart. Now, have yours and get back."

He shoved a bowl of what looked like powdered wood shavings. The smell was positively nauseating , and your stomach twist and turn in revulsion.

You placed your meal on the floor, not daring to take a single bite.

A laugh burst from him before he attempted doing the same to Astarion, who visibly shuddered as he dodged the man's hand.

"Ugh. I'll pass."

He snorted, grinning maliciously. "Food strikes ain't going to get you out o' here, pretty boy."

Astarion's face twisted into an outraged look, but before he could voice out a snarky remark, the same man as before was heard.

"That one's the vampire spawn."

The guard came into view, and the atmosphere in the prison cell shifted considerably. Silence took over, only broken by some vague whispers.

"Give him pig's blood."

A few gasps erupted.

"I prefer fresh blood, thank you very much," Astarion scoffed, visibly offended. "I am not feeding on scraps."

"Astarion…" you warned him lowly, not wanting things to spiral out of control.

The delivery man shrugged to the guard and pushed the food cart out of the way so he could attend to the other prisoners.

Another guard joined in, removing his helmet to take a closer look.

"Then you'll have nothing. You are in no position to make demands, spawn."

Astarion tensed by your side but merely pressed his lips as a reply.

"Thought so," the guard chuckled.

You gripped the bars tighter, earning their attention. "Tell us what we are charged with, then."

They both exchanged looks and the first one bared his teeth. "Playing dumb, are we?"

"We didn't do anything that would warrant an arrest!" You nearly yelled in frustration. "Call for Wyll, please!"

The older man leaned in with a snarl. "The Grand Duke is absent. He might return later today."

Your heart dropped.

"Might?"

He nodded in indifference. "His duties don't bend to the will of his friends."

"We didn't do anything wrong," you said in a shaky retort, pressing your forehead against the bars. "We didn't…"

"Look, not to sound ungrateful given our luxurious abode," Astarion interjected light-heartedly, gripping your shoulders to have you take a few steps away from them. "But you do know who we are, don't you?"

"We do, and you are not above the law."

"And which law did we break, if you don't mind clarifying, of course."

The older guard was clearly running out of patience. "Killing a civilian."

Your eyes shot up immediately, and your mouth dropped in shock.

Astarion spoke before you could, his voice bearing confusion. "What? We didn't kill anyone."

"We found the body in the alleyway."

You gripped the bars again. "No! I used a Sleep spell – and he wasn't a civilian! He attacked me!"

He was now dangerously close to your face. "Listen here, princess. You are both in a sticky situation, and I advise you to watch your words."

Astarion pushed you back with his arm once again. "Lay a finger on her, and you might just turn into a vampire meal."

Tension increased tenfold all of a sudden, and you could only glare at Astarion who remained unmoved and determined to hold his menacing gaze.

"Maybe you'd prefer an overground cell, hm?" The guard spat in amusement. "Having the sun to keep you company. I'm certain we'd be sweeping your ashes from the floor before midday."

An intense wave of anger burst through you, and you reached through the bars, nearly gripping one of them. "Fuck you!"

They both laughed hysterically at your failed attempt.

One of them reached for a pouch and threw a vial at you. "A healing potion. Drink it, princess. You're bleeding out."

"Unless you are to be his vampire meal."

The other guard cleared his throat. "Oh, and be on your best behaviour, and don't even think of escaping. This place is riddled with traps."

"And we have our own mages," the other glared at you.

They laughed obnoxiously loud again before turning on their feet and walking out.

You glanced at the vial in your hand, its crimson content undulating faintly.

Blood kept on seeping through the makeshift bandages around your wrist. The blood flow hadn't decreased, and a couple of droplets were dripping on the floor.

"Drink it," Astarion urged you, pulling his eyes away from the sanguine mess.

You could tell he was extremely tense all of a sudden, slowly pacing away from where you stood.

The compulsion to drink blood could be blinding at times, and you couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a distance given the current circumstances.

You quickly popped the lid off the container and downed the sweetened liquid, immediately feeling a rush of warmth coursing through your body with each pump of your heart.

Unwrapping the soaked pieces of cloth, you noticed the slash had barely healed at all, and that the blood kept pouring out.

Astarion had definitely noticed your confusion, gripping your forearm.

"Poison," he finally said upon inspecting the wound.

You stared at him wide-eyed, as the realisation hit you hard.

They had poisoned you?

"No wonder the flow didn't decrease with the potion."

Panic spread quickly. "Why would they poison me?"

"It was most likely unintentional," he concluded, smearing his thumb across the layer of blood near your wound. "They must have coated their weapons with it and slashed you by mistake."

"We need to call them for an antidote."

He shook his head. "I doubt they have one at hand – one that actually works. These idiots aren't well-versed in poisons to begin with."

Unlike him.

"What now?"

His eyes met yours. "Do you trust me?"

You stiffened, alarm bells going off in your head. He would never ask this unless… "You're about to do something questionable, aren't you?"

"Questionable, but potentially life-saving. How do you fancy your odds?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck the poison out."

Instinctively, you tried to yank your arm from his grip. "No."

He simply glared at you. "This is your best option, darling."

You eased slightly, knowing fully well he was far more experienced in poisons than you were, and between 'bleeding out to death' and 'trusting your vampire friend who also happens to know a lot about this subject', you were far more inclined to pick the latter.

But then…

"What about you? It can be dangerous."

He chuckled in amusement. "I'm undead. Besides, I won't swallow this blood. I am vehemently against wasting yours, but exceptions must be made."

"Just… be careful."

He nodded, and you watched in awe as he brought your wrist to his lips, enclosing them around the wound. As he started off with gentle suckles, you saw the first droplets of blood dribble down from the corner of his mouth.

His touch was cold as ice, and you felt his fangs lightly press against your skin, but not hard enough to break the barrier. After all, your open wound – even if not that deep or wide – was enough to draw blood.

Somewhere along the line, his eyes fluttered shut as he held you in place, and your heart skipped a few beats.

Oddly intimate.

He parted from you not long after, all bloodied, and spitting the remainder of the warm liquid on the floor.

"What a terrible way to taint your blood," he said with a wince. "It tasted… rotten."

He then grabbed a hold of your cloak – or what was left of it – and wiped his lips and chin clean.

"Just horrid."

Under different circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for it, but it was a fair exchange.

The flow of blood had already begun to waver, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Are you well?"

He nodded dismissively with a shudder. "The things I do for you, honestly."

Surprisingly, that did bring a faint smile to your lips.

Even if only for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the many perils you had faced alongside each other.

He had your back, and you had his.

No matter what.

However, It still felt grim that it took an erroneous arrest and being shoved into a prison cell to catch a glimpse of the trusting bond you once shared.

One that wasn't built on a mere transaction.

He silently eyed you for a moment, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Then, he cleared his throat and walked over to his own mattress, placing his cloak along the length of it as a way to keep the damp at bay, before taking a seat.

Classic Astarion.

"Do you reckon I can now blame Gale for us ending up in this situation?"

You arched an eyebrow, wrapping yet another piece of cloth over your closing wound. "If anything, I should be blaming you, no? We're all doing this for you."

He shrugged with a side-smile. "Fair enough."

"I didn't kill that man… I don't get it…"

"I know you didn't, but it's not me you need to convince."

You sat down in defeat, rubbing your temple. "None of this makes sense…"

"No point in dwelling on it now," he said with a click of his tongue, inspecting his nails. "Get some rest."

You blinked. "I cannot rest in a place like this."

His eyes lifted briefly. "Darling, we've had worse."

"... and better." You mumbled.

"I'll give you the 'better' once we get out of here, then. Happy now?"

You winced at his words.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, unable to contain yourself.

He dropped his hand to the side, brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"This! This constant push and pull," you said, feeling the impulsiveness take control. "I try to have a proper conversation with you, and you just… push me away."

Astarion scoffed dramatically. "This is hardly the time or the place to be having this conversation."

"I tried to have you come stay with us… even when you're feeling more… vulnerable… you never let me in," you said in exasperation, words stinging in your throat. "You just…"

The words died in your mouth at the look he gave you.

It wasn't a look of anger or annoyance or outrage.

Just… nothing.

Like he wasn't even listening to you.

"Astarion?"

As if you had just snapped him out of his thoughts, he shook his head briefly, but didn't look in your direction.

"Go get some rest."

Had you pushed too far? He didn't sound upset, but then again, he was a master in deception whenever the situation called for it.

"Astarion…"

He was gazing out of the cell door, as if something far more interesting was worthy of his attention.

"I wasn't the one who pushed you away."

You sat up straighter, heart hammering fast against your ribcag. "Then who?"

"You did."

"What?"

He turned his head to you this time. "Don't pin this on me. You had all of me, and you chose to walk away."

A growing feeling of discomfort began to rise within you, competing with the confusion that had taken root.

And then…

Moonrise Towers.

That night.

"You didn't need a lover."

He sneered. "What about what I wanted?"

"Astarion, you–"

He immediately cut you off. "Don't. I wanted to be with you. I yearned for you like I never did for anyone else, and you chose the easy way out."

You were at a loss for words.

The conversation with Gale the day before immediately came to mind.

"Easy way out? You actually think I didn't have feelings for you back then?"

"Gods, then you should have fought for me – with me!"

He was being unreasonable. The pain of rejection had certainly seeped deeply into him, and it was now resurfacing brutally.

"And I did that! By giving you time and space. Besides, we had more pressing matters back then that required our undivided attention."

He looked back at you coolly. "How many nights did we spend thinking it would be our last?"

That caught you off guard.

"How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep, not knowing if we'd live to see another day?"

You fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Yet you preferred having that emptiness and despair for company instead of being with me," he went on, his words were as knives that cut through you ruthlessly. "So do not lecture me about pushing others away, when you so clearly excel at that."

It took you a moment to find your voice again amidst the concoction of emotions that swirled in your head.

His accusations were unfounded. You knew this. But realising that that was how he really felt about the entire situation made you feel sadness beyond comparison.

That he mistook your altruism for selfishness.

"I did what was best for you… and for us."

You wouldn't cry.

You couldn't cry.

"And was that what you wanted?"

"What you needed mattered more than what I wanted. That's how much I cared for you," you said, voice wavering. "And I still do. Even through all your deception and lies and manipulation… you still came first."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise, and his face softened.

"You constantly mistake what you want with what you need, not even caring about the possible consequences," you went on with newfound vigour.

He scowled yet again. "I constantly cast aside what I want in favour of others."

You scoffed in disbelief. "You're not the epitome of selflessness you think you are, Astarion."

"What I want still matters!"

"If you'd done what you wanted, you would have sacrificed the souls of seven thousand spawn!" You exploded in a fit of rage.

You were met with silence.

Deafening silence.

"You would have become the Vampire Ascendant and lost yourself in the process."

After glaring at you for a while, he then had the nerve to laugh. "Maybe that would have been the better option."

A sudden wave of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach. "You don't mean that."

"Stop speaking for me," he said through gritted teeth, words dripping with poison. "I had enough of it for two hundred years under his command – stop it!"

Your mouth had dropped open, and you were left speechless.

"Oi! Lovebirds, quit the chit-chat." One of the nearby guards rattled on the metal bars with a mace. "I'm afraid marriage counselling is postponed until further notice."

The other prisoners laughed and whistled teasingly as he walked away.

Decided you were done with this conversation, you leaned back and rolled down to your side, facing the wall and fighting back the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

You just couldn't stand looking at him.

Or even being near him.

You could only hope that Wyll would come back sooner rather than later, so you could finally get away from Astarion.

For good.

Disclaimer: sucking the poison from one's wound (in case of a snake bite, for example) has been discredited many decades ago. It's not really effective, and can do more harm than good, especially to the person doing the sucking. But for the purposes of this story, it works because fiction and magic and all that! Let's suspend our disbelief for a moment 😌

I don't keep taglists, so please consider adding this story to your alerts on Ao3 🩷

Next chapter: Solution

Series Masterlist . Masterlist

#astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x mc

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mangionebabymama · 8 days ago

Text

“six thirty” — Luigi Mangione

“Whatcha gonna do when I’m bored and I wanna play video games at 2 am? What if I need a friend? Will you ride ‘til the end?” - “six thirty” by Ariana Grande

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: LOTS of pining and yearning, sort of slow-burn online romance, but it's also platonic, maybe? This also contains some slight mentions of depression and loneliness; please proceed with caution.

A/N: Inspired by this ask from a while ago, where those particular lyrics of "six thirty" about playing video games at 2 am have always stuck with me. If you don't know this about me by now, I am a Cancer sun, and it shows. I am emotional, and I'm going to be an emotional writer. Please note that this is purely fictional, but these feelings are real.

The glow of Luigi’s monitor lit up the dim room, casting long shadows across the walls. It was 2 a.m., and the quiet hum of his computer was the only sound breaking the silence. He shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as the faded memories of his surgery still lingered in his movements. Recovery had been slow, and lately, he’d found himself retreating into the digital world more and more. The real world felt heavy, distant—like it wasn’t his anymore. Like he was watching his life happen from somewhere far away. His family and friends tried to reach out, but he’d been pulling away, retreating into himself.

His cursor hovered over his Steam library, scrolling aimlessly. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. Just something to fill the void. That’s when he noticed it—the little green dot next to your username. You were online. His heart gave a little leap, and before he could reconsider his decision, a notification appeared from you.

Can’t sleep either? Is it the insomnia again or were you hoping to see if I was up?

Luigi’s fingers flew over the keyboard for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the heaviness in his chest. He glanced at the clock on his desk— now 2:01 AM—and then back at the glowing screen of his monitor. The room was darkling, lit only by the soft blue light of his computer, and the hum of the fan inside the tower was the only sound accompanying his thoughts.

Pep: Both.

The reply came almost instantaneously, like a reflex, as if you’d been waiting for him.

You: Figured. You’ve been on late a lot lately. Not that I’m complaining—company’s nice.

Luigi leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. His back ached faintly, a dull reminder of the surgery he’d had months ago. The doctors had said he’d recover fully, but they hadn’t warned him about the mental toll it would take. The weeks spent in bed, staring at the ceiling, had given him too much time to think. And now, even though he was physically better, he couldn’t shake the weight that seemed to settle deeper into his chest every day.

Pep: Yeah, I guess I have. Sleeping’s been… hard.

You: Hard as in “can’t fall asleep” or hard as in “don’t want to”?

Luigi hesitated. You always seemed to know the right questions to ask, the questions that cut straight through the noise and got to the heart of things. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting or terrifying.

Pep: Both.

There was a pause before your next message appeared.

You: You’ve been quiet lately. Not just tonight—like, in general. Even when we’re playing. You okay?

He stared at the words, his chest tightening. How does she always know? He wondered. You’d never met in person, never even seen each other’s faces, but somehow, you always seemed to see him.

Pep: I don’t know. I guess… I’ve just been feeling kind of lost. I don’t even know how to explain it.

You: Try.

Luigi let out a short, humorless laugh. Leave it to you to cut straight to the point. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words.

Pep: It’s like… everything just feels heavy, you know? Like I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been distancing myself from everyone—my family, my friends—but I don’t even know why. I just… I can’t seem to connect with anything anymore. Except this.

He added, gesturing to the screen even though you couldn’t see him.

Talking to you. Playing games. It’s like the only time I feel… I don’t know, alive, I guess.

The cursor blinked as he waited for your response, his heart beating a little faster than it should have.

After a moment, you wrote back.

You: You’re not alone in that. I think a lot of people feel that way sometimes. Especially now, with everything going on in the world. It’s easy to get lost in your own head.

Pep: But it’s not just that. It’s like… I’m stuck. Like I’m just watching my life pass by, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to fix it.

There was another pause, longer this time.

You: Have you talked to anyone about this? Like, really talked?

Luigi shook his head, though he knew you couldn’t see him.

Pep: Not really. I don’t want to bother anyone with it. And I don’t even know what I’d say.

You: You’re not bothering me

And you don’t have to have all the answers. Sometimes, just saying it out loud helps.

Or typing it out, lol

He smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Pep: Thanks. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

You: Probably be even more of a mess

You joked about that last bit of your message, and he could almost hear the teasing tone in your voice as he let out a chuckle reading what you said.

Pep: Ya, probably

There was a comfortable silence between you both, broken only by the soft sound of his keyboard as he typed some more.

What about you? Why are you up so late?

You: Couldn’t sleep either. Insomnia’s a bitch. Plus, I was kind of hoping you’d be on.

Luigi’s heart skipped a beat, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

Pep: Yeah?

You: Yeah. You make the nights better.

He felt his face heat up.

Pep: You make them better, too.

Another pause preceded your following message.

You: You know, it’s okay to not be okay. And it’s okay to lean on people when you need to. You don’t have to go through this alone.

Luigi stared at the words, his throat tightening. He wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the raw honesty of the conversation, but he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He typed, his fingers lingering uncertainly over the keys.

Pep: I don’t want to be a burden.

You: You’re not a burden.

If anything, you’re the opposite. You’re important to me, Luigi—more than you realize.

His breath caught in his throat, and he had to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.

Pep: You’re important to me too.

His hands shook as he typed.

More than I think I’ve ever admitted.

There was a long silence, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d said too much. Yet, your response showed up, and he felt a surge of adrenaline in his chest.

You: Maybe we should admit it more. To each other. To ourselves. Life’s too short to keep everything bottled up.

Luigi nodded, even though you couldn’t see him.

Pep: Yeah. Maybe we should.

He tilted back in his seat, caught in a strange sensation of relief intertwined with fragility. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but at last, he felt like he wasn’t alone.

You: You know…

Sometimes, I think about what it would be like to meet you in person.

Luigi felt a flutter in his heart once more.

Pep: Yeah?

You: Yeah. I think it’d be… nice. To talk face-to-face. To really see you.

Pep: I think it’d be nice too.

You: Maybe, one day, we will

Pep: One day, for sure

The cursor blinked on the screen, expecting the next words to appear. For once, Luigi felt a spark of something he hadn’t felt in months: hope.

You: Until then, I’m here.

Whenever you need me.

Luigi smiled, his chest swelling with gratitude.

Pep: Same goes for you. Always.

The cursor blinked lazily on the screen, as if it, too, was holding on for Luigi to gather his courage. He sat in the dim glow of his monitor, the rest of the room swallowed by the darkness of the early hours. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking, as if betraying the weight of the words he was about to type. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Why now? He thought. Why does it feel like I can only tell the truth at 2 a.m. when the world is asleep?

But he knew the answer. It wasn’t the time that mattered. It was you. The way you listened without judgment and your words seemed to reach into the parts of him he’d locked away. You made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he thought.

He took a deep breath, his chest tightening as he started typing.

Pep: There’s something I’ve never told anyone.

He wrote away, his words appearing on the screen in a rush as if they were desperate to escape. He paused, his heart pounding in his ears. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to lay himself bare like this?

Just as he was about to second-guess himself, your reply appeared up.

You: You can tell me anything, Luigi. You know that.

He exhaled shakily, his fingers moving almost of their own accord.

Pep: It’s about why I’ve been so… distant lately. It’s not just the surgery. Not just the insomnia. It’s… I’ve always felt like I don’t belong. Like I’m on the outside looking in. Even with everybody in my life. I try to act like I’m okay, like I’m fine, but I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time.

He stopped, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. His eyes darted to the clock in the corner of the screen—2:04 AM. The world was still asleep, but he felt more awake than in months.

Your reply came quickly, longing for him to say those words all along.

You: That’s a heavy burden to carry alone. You don’t have to, you know. You’re not as alone as you think you are.

Luigi’s lips trembled as he absorbed your words, a tight knot swirling in his throat. Deep down, he yearned to trust you, to hold on to the fragile hope that he wasn’t as solitary as he often felt. Yet, the weight of loneliness pressed heavily on him, an ever-present shadow that made believing in that hope a daunting challenge.

Pep: It’s not just that

He typed, his fingers moving faster now, as if they couldn’t keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of his head.

I’ve been struggling

with something else

Something I’ve never told anyone. Not even my closest friends.

The cursor blinked mockingly, sitting tight for him to continue. He swallowed hard, his stomach churning. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment he either let it all out or shut it away forever.

You: Take your time, Luigi. I’m here.

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. When he opened them, he started typing again, the words spilling out, his cup runneth over with transparency.

Pep: I’ve always felt like I was different. Like there was something wrong with me. Something I couldn’t put into words. It’s not just the loneliness. It’s like… I’ve been searching for something my whole life, but I don’t know what it is. And it’s tearing me apart.

His hands trembled as he pressed the enter key, the letters materializing on the screen in sharp black and white. A rush of vulnerability washed over him, as if he had peeled away a layer of skin, revealing the raw, bleeding chaos lurking beneath. It was an eerie sensation, as though he was standing naked before an unseen audience, laid bare and utterly exposed.

His heart pounded as he waited for your reply, each second stretching into an eternity. When your message finally appeared, it was simple but profound.

You: Thank you for trusting me enough to share that. You’re not alone in feeling that way. A lot of people feel lost, like they’re searching for something they can’t quite name. It’s part of being human. But you don’t have to figure it all out right now.

Just take it one step at a time, one day at a time.

Luigi’s breath caught in his throat as he read your words. It wasn’t judgment or pity that he saw in them. It was understanding. Compassion. And something else—something that made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Pep: I don’t know where to start

He confessed, his fingers shaking as he typed.

I feel like I’m stuck in this… this loop. Like I’m just going through the motions, but I’m not really living. I don’t know how to break out of it.

Your response was prompt, as though you had anticipated him saying those words.

You: Start by being honest with yourself. About what you want, what you need. It doesn’t have to be all at once. Just take small steps. And remember, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. As much as you’ll let me be.

Luigi's vision swam before him as he absorbed your message, a lump rising stubbornly in his throat. He scrubbed at his eyes, fighting back the tide of emotions that surged within him—gratitude coursing through his veins, relief washing over him like a gentle wave, and a flutter of fear that danced just beneath the surface. Yet, amid this tumult, there was something else—a warm, comforting sensation enveloping him, as if he were being wrapped in a soft, reassuring hug that eased the weight on his shoulders.

Pep: I don’t know why you’re so kind to me.

He typed, his fingers moving slowly now as if each word carried the weight of his heart.

I don’t feel like I deserve it.

You: You don’t have to earn kindness, Luigi. You deserve it just because you’re you. And you’re worth it. Don’t ever doubt that.

He stared at the screen, his breath hitching. Those words—those simple, powerful words—struck something deep inside him, something he’d buried long ago—a tiny spark of hope, flickering in the darkness.

Pep: I don’t know what to say. I just… Thank you. For being here. For listening. For… for seeing me.

You: Always, Luigi. Always.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could breathe. Like the weight on his chest had shifted, just a little. It wasn’t gone, but it was bearable. And for now, that was enough.

Pep: There’s one more thing. Something I’ve never told anyone. Not even myself, really.

He paused, his fingers trembling. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment he either let it all out or shut it away forever.

You: You can tell me anything, Luigi. I’m here.

He closed his eyes, gathering his courage. When he opened them, he started typing again, the words spilling out in a raw, unfiltered stream.

Pep: I think… I think I’ve been searching for someone. Not just anyone, but… you. I don’t know how to explain it, but talking to you, it feels like… like I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for. I know it sounds crazy, but—

Your reply interrupted him, cutting off his words before he could finish.

You: It’s not crazy, Luigi. I feel it, too.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared at the screen, his mind racing. Did you really mean it? Or was it just the late hour, the vulnerability of the moment, making you say things you might not normally say?

Pep: Do you really mean that?

As he typed, his fingers erratically tremored; he couldn’t keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of his head.

Or is it just the insomnia talking?

You: I mean it, Luigi. I’ve felt it, too. This connection between us. It’s real.

It’s always been real.

Pep: I want it to be real.

You: Then let’s make it real.

His pulse quickened. The compulsion hung in the air, heavy and loaded. He’d thought about it—more times than he could count. He’d imagined what it would be like to hear your voice, to see your face, to feel your presence beside him. But it felt like a dream, something just out of reach.

Pep: But there’s so much distance. And I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that. If I’m even capable of it. I know you’re real, and this is, but I want to feel it, too.

The honesty in his words surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say so much, but something about the late hour, the quiet, you—it made it impossible to hold back.

You: I get it. I really do. But… what if we didn’t have to figure it all out right now? What if we just… let ourselves want it? Even if it’s just for tonight.

I mean… what if we stopped pretending like this isn’t something real? Like we’re just two strangers who happen to be online at the same time. Because we’re not. We’re more than that.

And… I don’t want to hide it anymore.

Luigi gazed at the words, his chest constricting. He felt naked and vulnerable, yet also… relieved. It was as if someone had torn off a bandage he hadn’t known was there.

Pep: I don’t want to hide it, either. I do want this. I want you. Even if it’s just like this, for now. Even if it’s just words on a screen. It just feels so real to me.

You: Then let’s stop pretending. Let’s just… be. Together. Even if it’s just for tonight.

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He let out a slow breath, feeling the pressure ease slightly, now knowing that deep down, he understood what he wanted—he wanted you, and at long last, you were there, waiting for him. He was no longer alone. At this moment, going forward for however long the night would last, it would be just you and him—and only you and him. And it was going to be real.

Then, slowly, he typed.

Pep: Okay. Let’s be together.

#mangionebabymama works #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x prompt #luigi mangione prompt #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione x yn #songs about luigi #rpf #real person fiction

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4linos · 20 days ago

Text

you don’t want to get married/have kids.

3racha x fem!reader

warnings: angst. hurt/comfort.

wc: 5044

bang chan

You both left your best friend's home with the scent of new baby powder still clinging on your clothes. The happiness that came from the visit was palpable; after all, you'd just met their newborn, a small miracle that everyone couldn't stop adoring. Chan couldn't stop smiling as you strolled down the sidewalk together, his voice light as he pondered on your visit.

"You were so adorable with him," he continued, almost teasingly but with a sensitive undertone. "The way you held him, the way you shushed him when he started to whine... It was like you were made to be a mom."

You laughed nervously, the compliment resting on your chest like a weight. He didn't notice how the mood shifted; he was still smiling, oblivious to the sudden tightening in your throat. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach, one that had been growing for a while but had never been as visible as today. His words were like a knife, a gentle reminder of something you'd always kept buried. Something you were afraid to admit, even to yourself.

Chan's voice became quieter as you did not react immediately. His fingers brushed over yours, and you stiffened, trying to push away the discomfort that felt like a cold, invisible barrier between you. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, his worry visible. "You okay?"

The question hit you harder than you expected, sending a wave of panic through your chest. You tried to ignore it and play it off, but the words spilled out before you could stop them.

"I... I don't know," you said quietly, your gaze fixated on the sidewalk. "It just makes me anxious, thinking about... all of that." You paused, unsure whether to continue, but his quiet pushed you on. "I've never actually considered having kids. I mean, I've considered it, but the thought of being bound to one person or having the duty of raising a child for the rest of my life is overwhelming." Your voice cracked at the end of the phrase, revealing the rawness of your feelings.

Chan’s steps faltered. You could feel him beside you, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. He didn’t say anything right away, but his silence felt more deafening than anything. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice softer, careful.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" His words were not accusatory, but they were sad and cut deep. He wasn't angry, but there was an evident hurt in his voice, a type of sadness you hadn't expected. "I didn't know you felt this way."

You swallowed and tried to keep your voice calm. "I wasn't sure how to say it. It's just not something I'm prepared for, Chan. The thought of it scares me. I've always been afraid of commitment. I'm terrified of the responsibilities. Of being everything to someone, of being tied down indefinitely."

You could feel his eyes pressing into you. His hand came out and softly touched your arm, but you still felt detached, as if you were miles off.

"Do you mean that?" His voice was soft and weak. "That you wouldn't want to have kids at all?"

You did not react immediately away, the question reverberating in your head. How would he react if you said yes? Will he be disappointed? Will he question everything between you? Your heart pounded in your chest as you finally nodded, though part of you despised the way it sounded. "I don't think I've ever imagined it for myself. Not in the way you seem to."

He exhaled softly, like he was letting go of something heavy. But you could tell it wasn't easy; the weight of your words had lodged someplace deep within him. "I've always thought about a future with you, you know?" He whispered it quietly, his hand slipping down to his side as if he didn't know what to do with it. "I suppose I expected you to want the same things eventually. The family, kids. Maybe I'm just being naive."

You felt your chest tighten as he spoke. It wasn't that you didn't love him; you did, more than you could ever express, but the future he was anticipating felt like one you weren't prepared for. A life that you weren't sure you wanted. "I'm sorry," you said softly, unable to meet his eyes, your voice barely above a breath. "I just... I'm not sure if I am made out for that. I'm not sure if I'm cut out to be that kind of person."

Chan fell silent, and for a long while, neither of you moved. You had no idea what to say, and the weight of his disappointment felt like an unseen hand pushing down on you. It wasn't the anger you feared it was the quiet sadness, the unspoken realization that maybe you weren’t on the same page after all.

“I guess I was hoping you’d be ready, or that we’d grow into it together,” he finally said, his voice distant, as if he were talking to himself rather than to you. “But if you’re not, I... I don’t know what that means for us.”

His words struck a chord deep inside you. You didn’t want to lose him, but you also couldn’t pretend that you felt ready for the things he seemed so certain about. You reached out, touching his arm gently, not sure if your touch would bring comfort or just make things worse. “I never meant to hurt you,” you said, your voice shaking. “I just... I’m scared, Chan. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be.”

His eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was no judgment or anger. Just a quiet understanding. "I don't need you to be anyone else," he stated softly. "I just... I just need you to be honest with me." You nodded, tears welling in your eyes, and for the first time, you realized how much of yourself you'd been hiding.

The dread and doubt were not only about commitment. It was about losing yourself in the attempt of meeting someone else's expectations.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this,” you admitted, your voice raw. “But I don’t want to lose you, either.”

Chan gave you a sad smile, a hint of the warmth he always showed, even in moments like this. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said gently. “But I think we owe it to ourselves to keep talking about it. No matter how hard it gets.”

You both stood there for a while, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket. It wasn’t the resolution you’d both hoped for, but in a strange way, it felt like the beginning of a deeper conversation one that you would have to continue, one step at a time.

changbin

It's a quiet evening, and everything feels soft and cozy. Changbin and you are lying in bed, wrapped up in one other, the comfort of his presence relieving the stress of the day. You're both cuddling close, tangled under the blanket, and the room is faintly lighted by the soft glow of a lamp in the corner. It's the type of intimate moment in which everything feels natural and the day's talk slips into oblivion.

He's just returned after a lengthy practice, his body still warm from the exercise, but his mind is at ease, happy to be home with you. You, on the other hand, have that familiar peace whenever you're near him, as if you could just stay in this moment forever. But then, as if his thoughts are drifting, Changbin turns to face you. His voice, which is normally loud and confident, is softer tonight, with a touch of something unspoken.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about the future," he says, his fingers carelessly skimming through your hair. "About us."

You nod, your eyes tracing the lines of his jaw, the subtle play of light over his face. It’s easy to get lost in him, easy to imagine that everything will always be this simple, this perfect. But you can feel the tension creeping into his tone, something deeper behind his words.

“What about it?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, though a small part of you starts to brace for something that feels important.

He exhales softly, and you can hear him shifting in bed, turning his body just slightly to face you more fully. “You know… we’ve been together for so long now. And there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Something I’ve been wondering.”

You swallow, the slight nervousness in his voice making you instantly alert. You already know where this is going, but you can’t quite prepare yourself for what’s to come.

"Why do you avoid talking about marriage and kids?" he says, his voice calm but with a softness that you rarely hear from him. "I mean... I want to share all of that with you. I want to marry you and have a large wedding with our families, members, and friends present to celebrate us. I hope to have a family with you. Maybe one girl and one boy," he continues, his words gushing out with a calm eagerness that contrasts sharply with your regular lively banter.

As he speaks, his eyes light up with optimism, and you can tell how much he wants to share this future, this dream with you. And that's when you realize how heavy everything is. He’s been picturing a future together, full of love, marriage, children, and everything that comes with it. And for a moment, you’re caught in the warmth of his vision.

But as you lie there, something tightens in your chest. You don’t share that vision. You don’t want the same things.

Your gut twists, causing your heart to skip a beat. His words, so genuine and full of love, linger in the air, and you can feel the truth swelling up inside you, a truth you've tried to ignore. You can't avoid this subject forever, no matter how much you want to.

"Changbin," you say, wobbly but resolute. "I don't want any of that."

The room becomes silent, and his hand freezes on your hair. You look up at him, and his expression has changed to one of shock, confusion, and even disbelief.

“Wait, what?” he asks, his voice catching for a moment. “You… you don’t want to get married? Or kids?”

You shake your head, trying to find the right words, the ones that will explain the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t,” you say softly. “I love you, Changbin. I do. But those things… marriage, kids… I don’t see them in my future.”

He sits up a little, his eyes now wide, searching your face as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “Are you serious?” The words come out like a gasp, disbelief settling into his voice. “You’re telling me you don’t want any of that? After everything we’ve talked about?”

You sit up too, your chest tightening as the distance between you widens, even if only physically. His confusion, the hurt in his eyes, it makes your heart ache. You reach for him, but the words that follow are harder than you expected.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, your throat tight. "I never meant to hurt you. I genuinely love you. But I never imagined myself getting married or having children. It's not that I don't want to have a future with you, but... "I don't think I'll ever be prepared for that kind of life."

He looks at you for a long time, attempting to make sense of what you've just said. The stillness between you feels heavier than any dispute. His eyes are clouded with pain and uncertainty, and you can see reality sinking in. He's always pictured you staying by his side forever. And the future he dreams of does not appear to encompass the one you envision for yourself.

“Why?” His voice cracks, and it cuts through you, deeper than you thought possible. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Why let me think we were on the same page?”

“I was afraid,” you admit, your voice trembling. “Afraid of losing you. I thought maybe I could come around to the idea, maybe I could force myself to want that with you. But I can’t, Changbin. I can’t lie to you about something this big. I can’t give you the future you want when I know it’s not what I want.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated and hurt, the tension radiating off him in waves. “So what does that mean for us, then? If we don’t want the same things, if we can’t even agree on something as big as marriage or kids… What does that mean for us?”

The question hangs in the air, sharp and painful. You want to say something, anything that might ease the hurt between you two, but you don’t know how. You’ve always loved him, deeply, completely. But you’re realizing that love alone can’t make you want the things he envisions.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I could give you what you want. But I don’t think I can. I don’t think I’ll ever want that life.”

The silence stretches on, a cold chasm between you now, and the warmth that once filled the room feels like it’s slipping away. He doesn’t say anything right away, and the quiet becomes unbearable. The hurt in his eyes is undeniable, and you can see the weight of his dreams crashing down around him.

After a long moment, he exhales, a shaky breath escaping him. “I don’t know if I can do this if we want completely different futures,” he says, his voice low, almost broken.

“I understand,” you whisper, your heart sinking at the realization. “I’m so sorry.”

The words seem hollow, too light for the weight of the room. You've just told him that the future he envisioned with you is not the one you see. And for a moment, you both simply sit there, silently digesting the weight of everything that has happened in that conversation.

In the stillness, you understand that love doesn't always mean sharing the same dreams. And sometimes, even if you love someone wholeheartedly, it is insufficient to bridge the gap between two very different ideas of the future.

The coldness of the morning is suffocating, and you can feel it weighing heavily on your chest. Since the conversation with Changbin the night before, things have felt distant like a shadow hanging over you both, and he hasn’t said a word to you since. He’s been giving you the silent treatment, and it hurts more than you care to admit.

You wake up earlier than usual, still processing the conversation and regretting how things turned out. You go through your morning routine slowly, making breakfast, setting up the table, and preparing Changbin's lunch as usual. It feels odd, though, as if something is missing. There is no lighthearted conversation in the kitchen, no teasing or sweet kisses, and no peaceful moments where you can both linger before the day begins. When you offer him his lunch as he walks out the door, you watch as he takes it without saying anything, his eyes avoiding yours. It's as if he's a stranger and your heart sinks. "Have a good day," you say quietly, but he doesn't look up. Instead, he simply nods, his face unreadable, before slipping out the door. Your stomach churns with the sudden, overwhelming sense of loss.

At practice, Changbin is a shell of himself. The members immediately notice, exchanging worried glances as they watch him sit in silence, his usual bright energy completely absent. He’s quieter than ever, not offering his usual teasing or joking with the others. The playful, sarcastic remarks that he usually spews effortlessly are nowhere to be found. He’s distant, almost like he’s not even there.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the members to gather around him once the break starts. They’re used to Changbin being the one to lift the mood, to crack jokes and keep things light. But today, he’s utterly detached. The silence in the room is thick, and it’s clear something is wrong.

“Bin, what’s going on?” Hyunjin asks, his tone soft but filled with concern. The others chime in too, eyes full of worry.

Changbin shrugs, his hand running through his hair, frustration written all over his face. He doesn’t even look up as he answers. “It’s nothing, really.”

But his voice betrays him. There’s pain in his words, and the members can sense it immediately. They press him again, refusing to let it slide. It’s rare to see him like this.

“You sure? You’re off today, man,” Felix comments, eyeing him. “You usually can’t sit still. What happened?”

Finally, Changbin’s walls begin to crack, and his voice breaks as he mutters, “She doesn’t want to get married or have kids. That’s what we talked about last night. She doesn’t see a future with me like I thought she did.” His words spill out, raw and unfiltered. The hurt is evident, but so is the confusion. “I don’t know if I can get past that. It might be a dealbreaker for me.”

The silence in the room is deafening. The members exchange uneasy glances, taking in the weight of what he just said.

“But,” Seungmin begins, his voice steady, “you’ve been with her through so much, right? And she’s stood by you, too. You love each other, don’t you?”

Changbin nods, the pain in his eyes palpable. “Of course. I love her more than anything. But... we’re not on the same page when it comes to the future.”

Jisung leans forward, his brow furrowed in thought. “But is it really worth throwing everything away? I mean, you’ve been through so much together, and you’ve always said how in love you are with her. You’ve both built something really special. Is it really about not wanting kids or getting married, or is there more to it?”

Changbin doesn't respond right away. He only stares at the ground, repeating the words in his thoughts. They're right. He's been so focused on his future vision, which includes marriage, children, and a life together, that he hasn't considered the possibility that she doesn't want the same things. But it was not all about it. He'd always imagined growing old with her, and a future without those things felt empty. Or did it?

"Are you really going to let something like that end everything?" Hyunjin contributes gently. "I know it hurts. But love isn't about forcing someone to fit into a particular mold. If you love her, it may be worth working out a way forward, even if it isn't exactly what you hoped for."

The words hit Changbin hard. The members are right, and for the first time since the conversation with you, he starts to realize how much he’s been holding onto an idealized version of the future. Maybe he needed to let go of the idea of what it should look like and focus on what they had together. Maybe there was another way forward.

When Changbin arrives home later that night, the silence between you feels more suffocating than before. The house feels colder than usual, and he can't shake the weight of what he's been carrying about all day.

When he walks in, he expects to see you with a smile and maybe a joke to break the tension, but instead he finds you curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the TV. You don't even look up when he walks in. The absence of your usual greeting hits him like a punch to the stomach. This was not how things were meant to be. You weren't supposed to feel like strangers in your own home.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, the guilt gnawing at him. He knows he’s been distant, that his silence has been like a wall between you two, and it’s been tearing him apart inside. He can’t keep doing this. He needs to fix things, to bridge the gap that’s formed between you both.

Without saying anything else, he crosses the room and kneels down in front of you, pulling the blanket away gently. You look up at him, your eyes tired, filled with a sadness he hates seeing. He feels a pang in his chest as he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve been an idiot. I should’ve never given you the silent treatment, especially not when you needed me to listen. I let my own hurt cloud my judgment, and I’m sorry for that.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, just let yourself melt into his embrace, the warmth of his arms providing a sense of comfort you didn’t know you needed. You feel his breath against your neck, and despite the lingering tension, you realize you don’t want to be apart from him either.

“I was so scared, Changbin,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I love you, but I didn’t know how to say that I wasn’t ready for the future you imagined. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” he replies softly, tightening his hold on you. “I was scared too. I thought… I thought I needed everything to be exactly how I imagined. But I don’t. I just need you. I love you, and that’s enough. Whatever we choose, whatever that looks like… I want it with you.”

You draw back slightly, catching his gaze, and you can see the sincerity in them. The tension in your chest relaxes slightly, but you know that nothing is magically fixed. There's still a lot to work out, a lot of talking to be done, but this moment, this apology, is a positive beginning.

And for the first time in the day, you feel the warmth between you two return, a reminder that love isn't about having everything sorted out. It is about being willing to try, learn, and meet each other halfway.

HAN

The evening at Jisung’s parents’ house had started off so well. The warm scent of sizzling barbecue wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter as you sat around the table, enjoying the food and easy conversation. Jisung’s parents were warm and inviting, and his older brother had just arrived with his toddler daughter, a little girl with bright eyes and an infectious laugh.

The toddler immediately took a liking to you, toddling over with a grin that could melt anyone’s heart. You couldn’t help but smile as she clung to your legs, tugging on your arm to be picked up. She had so much energy, so much sweetness, and it was impossible not to feel a little soft as she snuggled against you, pressing her cheek to yours.

Jisung watched with a soft chuckle, his eyes warm as he watched you with his niece. His mom, sitting across the table, couldn’t hold back her excitement. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, beaming. “You’re a natural with her! You look so comfortable holding a little one. Jisung, I can definitely see you two having kids of your own someday.”

Jisung laughed along with her, clearly enjoying the moment, but you felt a sudden tension tighten in your chest. You smiled at his mom, trying to keep it light, but you felt a knot forming in your stomach. This wasn’t a conversation you were prepared for, not now, not here.

Before you could react, his mom added, “You should think about it soon, you know. The clock is ticking. It would be so lovely to see you both start a family. When are you planning on getting married and having kids of your own?”

The words felt like a punch to the gut, so casual, so matter-of-fact. You felt yourself freeze, your hand instinctively tightening around the little girl in your arms, who was still smiling and oblivious to the change in your mood. You forced yourself to smile, but it felt thin, fragile, like a mask you were desperately trying to hold in place.

Jisung didn’t notice the shift at first. He looked at you, then back at his mom with a playful grin. “Soon, I guess,” he said with a shrug, his voice light, almost too light. “We’ve been talking about it. Right?”

You nodded, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, yeah, soon.”

But something didn't feel right. The words felt hurried, too easy, and... uncharacteristic of you. You could feel your heart beating and your chest constricting as his mother went on about how adorable it would be to see you both with children. Meanwhile, Jisung was still smiling, obviously happy with the thought. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, and you hadn't told him yet. You couldn't breathe through this conversation.

Excusing yourself silently, you stood up quickly and returned the toddler to her seat with a little smile. "I'll just—uh, I'll be right back," you murmured, wanting time to gather yourself. You didn't wait for anyone to say anything before heading inside and into the nearest bathroom.

Jisung’s voice trailed behind you, soft but insistent. “Wait, are you okay?”

You closed the bathroom door behind you, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You leaned against the sink, closing your eyes for a moment, the world spinning slightly. You could hear Jisung’s footsteps approach outside the door before it opened quietly.

“I know something’s wrong,” he said, his voice low, tentative. “What is it?”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip. Your stomach churned as the words you had been avoiding for so long bubbled to the surface. You turned to face him, your chest tight with the weight of your emotions. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I just... I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for this. Marriage. Kids. It’s just not something I’ve really thought about, not in the way you do. It’s not that I don’t love you, Jisung, but...” You trailed off, unable to fully articulate the swirl of anxiety and fear that had settled in your gut.

Jisung’s face shifted, confusion mixing with concern. “What do you mean? What’s going on? You seemed fine earlier.”

You exhaled sharply, running your hands through your hair. “Marriage and kids... they require sacrifices. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I like my life the way it is. I like my freedom, my autonomy. I don’t want to feel like I’m constantly tied to one person or one responsibility. I’m scared that it’ll limit my space, my choices, my me time. I just... I don’t know if I’m the type of person who can handle all that, all at once.”

Jisung stood still for a moment, his eyes searching yours, his expression soft but serious. “So, you’re saying you don’t want kids? Or that you don’t want to get married?”

You took a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it that way before. I guess... I’ve just always been scared of what comes with those things. It’s not just about the good stuff, it’s the responsibility, the change, the giving up parts of yourself, the constant giving. It feels like a lot, Jisung. Like too much.”

His expression shifted again, not in anger, but in a kind of quiet sadness. He stepped closer, though you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him fully, your gaze fixed on the floor. “I understand being scared,” he said quietly, his voice low. “But I never thought you felt this way. I thought we were on the same page about... well, about our future.”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t know how to say it. I don’t want to disappoint you. I just... I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of future. At least, not now. And maybe not ever.”

Jisung stayed silent for a while. The silence was thick, and you could feel his presence beside you, a reassuring warmth that made the space between you seem even greater. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but with a hint of hurt.

"I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for," he added, his hand tentatively brushing over yours, as if he didn't know where you stood anymore. "But I had always pictured us together, you know? In the future. I don't want to lose that dream, but I also don't want to force you to pursue it. If you're not ready, I can't force you to be."

You squeezed his hand, a lump in your throat. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, voice thick. “But I need time, Jisung. I need time to figure this out. I need to understand myself before I can think about a future like that.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes distant. “Okay. I’ll give you time. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this. Whatever you decide... I’m here. I just need you to be honest with me, and we’ll figure it out.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking up at him, trying to smile through the heaviness in your chest. “Thank you. I promise I’ll try to figure it out. But I need to do it on my own time. Please don’t rush me.”

Jisung squeezed your hand back, his expression softening. “I won’t. But we’ll talk more, okay? We’ll keep talking.”

You nodded, trying to calm your breathing. This wasn't an easy conversation, and it wasn't an easy feeling, but having him standing there, allowing you space to breathe and think, made you feel less lost. Maybe things weren't clear right now, but you knew you could work them out one step at a time.

masterlist.

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aventurineswife · 3 months ago

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idk if this one is a little too dark or anything

but as a req i liked the idea of a dissociating!reader x aven, who always tries to be there for when it happens. 🤍

i hope in some capacity this made sense 😓 (and i might be calling myself out a bit here oop-)

on an end note-i hope ur doing well and remembering to take care of urselfff!! 💕

I'm With You

Summary: When you experience dissociation, Aventurine stays by your side, offering quiet comfort and patience. Through his gentle presence and soft words, he grounds you, bringing you back to reality and reminding you that you’re never alone in the struggle.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Dissociation, Fluff, Established Relationship, Gentle Aventurine, Emotional Support, Reassurance, Intimacy.

Warnings: Themes of dissociation, implied mental health struggles.

A/N: It's completely fine, anon! It's not dark at all! And don't worry about it, I enjoy a bit of challenges (not really lmaoo). Remember to take care of yourself too!!

The cool, dim evening has settled, casting long shadows over the room as Aventurine sits beside you, his arm resting gently on your shoulder. You’re barely aware of the world around you—an unexplainable heaviness has clouded your thoughts, and the sense of reality feels like it’s slipping away, leaving only a distant, hollow feeling. You’ve been here before, in this numb, detached place. And though you can barely hear or feel it, Aventurine’s presence grounds you, his hand warm and reassuring, like an anchor in a storm.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice low and calm, like a thread trying to pull you back. You don’t immediately respond, but his words have a way of finding their way through the fog. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me be here, alright?”

Aventurine’s presence is steady, warm, filled with patience. He sits beside you without demanding your attention, offering quiet comfort, his fingers lightly stroking your shoulder. Slowly, he reaches over and takes your hand, wrapping it in his. He knows how the dissociation pulls you away from the present, away from him, and yet he never resents it. Instead, he finds ways to help, little reminders that you’re here, that he’s here, that you’re not alone in this strange, untouchable place.

“You know,” he starts, a small smile gracing his lips, “I saw this mooncake the other day that had a little cat face on it. It looked so…well, I thought it was too cute to eat. I even took a selfie with it.” He chuckles softly, and the gentle sound of his laugh breaks through your haze, if only a little. “Imagine that, me, a mooncake, and a cat face. Pretty ridiculous, right?”

You blink, and the faintest hint of a smile plays on your lips. Aventurine notices, and he gives your hand a small, comforting squeeze.

“There you are,” he murmurs, his eyes full of warmth and relief. “You don’t have to come all the way back to me yet. I’ll meet you wherever you are.”

It’s strange, having someone who understands like this, who doesn’t push, who knows how to reach into the quiet, lonely parts of you and make you feel seen, even when you’re fading from yourself. Aventurine is still holding your hand, tracing circles over your knuckles. His touch, his presence—it’s grounding, a small reminder that you’re tethered to something, to someone who cares for you deeply.

After a moment, he speaks again, his voice still low and soothing. “You’re so much stronger than you realize, you know that? But you don’t have to be strong all the time. You have me.” His words wrap around you like a warm blanket, softening the edges of your dissociation. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bit by bit, the room starts to feel more tangible. You’re aware of his arm around your shoulder, the light pressure of his hand in yours, his steady breathing. You turn slightly to look at him, his familiar, comforting smile waiting for you.

“Thank you.” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but Aventurine hears it. His smile widens, and he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Always,” he replies, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “For as long as you need, I’ll be right here.”

You settle back into his embrace, feeling the weight of his arm, the warmth of his presence filling the spaces that felt empty only moments ago. And for the first time in a while, you feel safe, at peace in the comfort of his love, knowing he’ll be there, no matter how far you feel from yourself.

#honkai star rail #hsr #x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #dissociation #established relationship #gentle aventurine #emotional support #reassurance #intimacy #themes of dissociation #implied mental health problems

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lightseoul · 3 months ago

Text

a/n. it's been ages since i wrote for akaashi, which is a crime because he's the literal loml. i should write for him more. anyway, here's another subtle act of love drabble <3 (0.7k)

warnings. a brief mention of akaashi's timeskip job.

your shoulders are heavy when you lift up your arm to insert your copy of the house key into the keyhole, both from the literal weight of your work bag and the heaviness of a long day. you did not expect to work overtime today, especially since it's a friday—the nights of which being one of the few times you have all to yourself and your husband—since he started on that new, up-and-coming project at his manga company.

you fight the urge to cry in frustration when the lock refuses to budge, mind drifting to how you really ought to do something about it. but with another try, it finally gives, and you ungracefully push through the door as quietly as you can, mindful of not waking your other half who's most likely asleep by now.

what you expected to greet you at 9:47 PM tonight was the dim lighting of your foyer juxtaposing the darkness of the rest of the house. akaashi was always the one who turned that specific light on, having integrated it into his night-time routine while yours mainly consisted of your beauty regimens.

however, as you quickly scan the room, it registers that that's very much not the case, what with most of the lights being on, and you're about to conclude that maybe he was just too tired and knocked out preemptively, when something stirs on top of your couch, and up rises and emerges a half-asleep akaashi.

he tosses you a tired smile, adjusting his black-framed glasses. "welcome home, love."

"wha—" you start, dropping the gazillion things you brought to work on the slim table by the shoe rack. "why're you awa—i mean, i-i'm home, keiji."

his smile only deepens as you frown at him in confusion. "what're you doing up, dummy?"

"wanted to wait for you," he says so simply, like it's a no-brainer, before giving you a once-over. "you look beautiful, sunshine."

at that, you snort, but you feel yourself flame at the compliment nevertheless. "thanks, but i saw myself in the mirror before leaving work."

you pause, padding towards your husband, rounding the couch before plopping next to his right. you take in your akaashi keiji, in all his sleepy glory, already in his matching set of red plaid pajamas, exposing his enthusiasm for the holidays. the man, who used to shrink under your gaze in shyness, now only bolsters in confidence as you drink him in, the smile from earlier still playing at his lips.

you try to ignore the butterflies that spring in your gut at the sight of him, proceeding to further prove your point. "my hair's a mess and i'm pretty sure my mascara gave me a tiny black eye crust that i keep on forgetting to remove."

"yeah?" he retorts without missing a beat. reaching out, he takes your hand in his, placing it by his thigh. "doesn't seem that way to me, though."

you look down at your intertwined hands, his over yours, caressing the flesh. "love has made you blind, then."

"i disagree," akaashi quips as quickly as ever, unfazed. "love has made me sharper, even sharp enough to stay awake so that i can greet you home."

at the reminder of his latest stint, you frown. "you didn't have to wait up for me, keiji. you need the rest."

the man merely shrugs, not stopping his ministrations on your hand. "i can sleep in tomorrow. just wanted to see you, is all."

neither of you says anything for a moment, opting to bask in the comfortable quiet and each other's presence instead of filling the air.

"thank you," you eventually say after a few minutes, locking eyes with your husband. "for this. i really wanted to see you, too."

akaashi merely beams at you. "it's my pleasure, love."

and he doesn't expound, but it really is. you don't know it yet, but akaashi's been meaning to tell you this one embarrassing thing.

that getting to tell you 'welcome home' at the end of the day makes him so incredibly happy that he's willing to lose sleep over it time and time again.

because what truly is better than being the husband you come home to?

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

#akaashi owns the pet name 'love' and there's no arguing with me about this #he's just!!! such an effortless loverboy it makes me wanna rip my hair out #anyway this one is: 'waiting at home to say hello when they come in'#akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyu imagines #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #akaashi x you #akaashi imagine #akaashi drabble

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pickingupmymercedes · 4 months ago

Text

Let it happen - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Let it happen - Gracie Abrams - @alessandrahamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: angst with hints of fluff (because apparently that's a favorite around here)

wordcount: +2k

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

______________________________________________________________

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind of light that makes you forget the world can be sharp and unkind.

I blinked, rubbing the last traces of sleep from my eyes, before the familiarity of the room tugged me back to reality.

His room. His LA house.

You’d think I’d be smarter by now. But here I am, in his bed, heart in hand, ready to offer it up like a fool for the hundredth time.

I shifted under the weight of the sheets, the scent of him clinging to the air—cologne, something clean and woodsy, mixed with that hint of soap I’ve come to know too well.

We’re really doing this again, aren’t we?

I pushed myself upright, trying not to think about how easily I fell back into the shape of his life, like I never really left.

I caught sight of his sweater thrown over by the stool, my shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, evidence of another night spent tiptoeing through familiar, dangerous territory.

The house was quiet, just the faint hum of LA outside, muffled by the walls.

Maybe I should go back to sleep and hope to wake up in the right bed this time. Maybe I should grab my stuff and sneak out before he sees me. Save myself the trouble of figuring out what this is all over again.

But I pulled on his sweater without a second thought—apparently, I wasn’t done making bad decisions.

I tiptoe my way toward the kitchen, half-expecting to find him there, making one of those post-workout protein shakes he pretends taste good. But the space is empty—spotless countertops, gleaming appliances, and a bowl of perfectly arranged avocados I’m sure he didn’t buy himself.

What am I doing here?

And it’s a good question, one I’ve asked myself a million times. What the hell am I doing, letting myself get caught up in this again?

I know how this ends. We’ve been here before. Me standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, convincing myself that I can handle whatever this is without losing my mind.

The house still smelled like it always did, fresh coffee and the faint scent of whatever aroma he insists on using in his humidifier.

My eyes catching on little things as I passed. Roscoe’s leash on the counter, a half-read book on the couch, my own scarf tossed carelessly over the armrest. The one from the last time I was in this house.

A reminder of the life we’d built, the one we let slip through our fingers. The one I’m trying to convince myself we can build again.

Because of course, I’m always hoping, always diving back in, like there’s some magical version of reality that won’t end with both of us in pieces.

Like I can out-stubborn heartbreak this time.

I reached the sliding door to the porch, my hand hesitating over the handle. I can see him sitting on the steps, Roscoe curled up beside him, the morning sun painting him like this ethereal soul. Peaceful. At ease.

Like he wasn’t wrestling with the same mess that tangled inside me.

His hand moved absently scratching behind Roscoe’s ears, and the sight made my chest feel too tight, too full. All at once.

I hate how much I’ve missed this. Him. Us. It’s ridiculous, really.

I should have learned by now that this is what we always do. Like we’re some kind of tragic romantic who never learn when to walk away.

I slid the door open, trying to keep quiet, but the wheels rattled against the track, betraying me.

He glanced over his shoulder, and a slow smile curved his lips when he saw me. I felt my chest squeeze at the sight, and I swear I try to ignore it.

“Hey,” he says softly, like he’s afraid of breaking the quiet. “Didn’t hear you get up.”

“Yeah, well, you were busy this handsome.” I nod towards Roscoe, who’s already trotting over to me, his body dancing like we’re old friends.

I crouch down to give him a scratch behind the ears, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens when Lewis just keeps watching me, his expression open and unguarded in a way that makes me feel like I’m on the verge of falling apart.

“You want some coffee?” he offers, lifting his mug like it’s some peace offering. “There’s more inside.”

I shrug, trying to keep my voice casual. “I’ll get some in a minute.”

He nods and looks back out at the horizon, like he’s giving me space to settle into the morning. But I don’t move. I just stand there, feeling like an outsider in a place I used to know so well.

And the worst part, I’m not even sure which of us is to blame for that.

All countless nights I spent lying awake, wondering if I’d made a mistake in letting him go. Wondering if I should’ve fought harder, stayed longer, done something other than walk away before he could hurt me.

“You okay?” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to find him softly watching me.

It’s a loaded question, and we both know it, but he says it like he’s genuinely hoping for a real answer.

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I’m—yeah. Just...thinking.”

He nodded, like he understood—like he always did. His gaze back to the yard, to the stretch of green that separated the house from the rest of LA, and I watched him in the quiet, studying the lines of his face in the early light.

The very ones I’d memorized, the ones I’d convinced myself I could forget.

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? To forget?

Because, here I am, standing on his porch in borrowed clothes, like I’m hoping that somehow, being in his space will help me figure out if this is worth the inevitable heartbreak I know is lurking, waiting for any crack.

And it’s never really been about him hurting me, has it? It’s about me letting it happen. It’s about me choosing this—choosing him—over and over again, knowing full well how the story goes.

And … I can’t seem to stop.

It would be so much easier to walk away. To pack up my things, leave before we can fall into the same patterns that broke us the first time.

To save myself from the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters, only to feel it slip away when reality catches up.

But there’s something about him—about us—that keeps pulling me back. Like there’s a part of me that believes, against all logic and reason, that maybe this time will be different.

Lewis’s voice broke through my thoughts, low and even. “You know, you think too much.”

I let out a scoff that came out too breathy, too light. “Thanks for the insight, Dr. Hamilton. Real helpful.”

He chuckled, and it was the kind of sound that used to unravel me, back when we still believed we had time.

The kind that still does, deep down.

“It’s true, though. I can practically hear you thinking all the way over here.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I shot back, trying for a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

He just hummed, and the sound settled between us, comfortable, like we’d slipped back into an old rhythm. “I know. But you don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

And there it was, that knowing tone. It dug under my skin, pricking at all the places I’d tried to keep hidden.

Because of course he’d see right through me—he always did. And that’s what terrified me the most. He knew me, maybe even better than I knew myself, and that, that made it so much harder to walk away.

I found myself crossing the porch, sinking down next to Lewis. Our shoulders brushed, a familiar pull that had a hold on me, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself I was over that.

Over him.

I glanced sideways at him, catching the way the morning light softened the edges of his face. And for a moment, I let myself wonder what he saw when he looked at me.

If he saw the same girl he fell for the first time around, or just the mess I’d become since.

“What makes you think I’m trying to figure anything out?”

He shrugged, but there was a gentle smile tugging at his lips, like he didn’t need to say it. Because he could see right through my deflection.

“I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re overthinking everything. And I know that look on your face. The one when you were convinced the whole world is falling apart.”

I let out a huff, pulling my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. The porch creaked under my movement, and I found myself focusing on the sound, anything to distract from the way he was looking at me, like I was something fragile and precious. “Yeah, well, sometimes my world feels like it’s falling apart.”

He didn’t look away, and his silence made my skin itch, like he was waiting for me to say something more. When I didn’t, he finally spoke, voice soft, but steady. “You think I don’t get it? That I haven’t replayed all the ways we could’ve made it work if we’d just... tried?”

I swallowed, the words cutting through me. “And what makes you think trying again will be any different?”

Lewis leaned back, his shoulders brushing against the wooden steps as he considered my question. His hand drifted back to Roscoe, absently scratching behind his ears.

It was a moment before he answered, his voice rough around the edges, like he’d thought about this more times than he’d ever admit. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t think it’ll be different.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. He wasn’t making promises, wasn’t offering some fairy-tale ending. He just looked at me with those steady eyes, the ones that always seemed to see right through me, right down to the parts of myself I tried to hide.

“But I do know something” he continued, and there was a weight to his words, like he was choosing them carefully. “Every time you walk away, I keep thinking, ‘What if?’ What if we just got it wrong, and we could get it right if we gave ourselves the chance?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the hope that his words stirred up in me. “And what if we just keep hurting each other all over again? What if we’re both just too stubborn to admit that it’s time to let go?”

Lewis turned to look at me then, his expression softer than I expected. “That’s what makes it worth trying to me. Neither of us seems to know how to really give up. Not on us. Not completely.”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tracing the hem of his sweater on my lap. It felt like there was a storm building in my chest, all those feelings I’d kept locked up threatening to spill out.

I didn’t know what to do with them, how to make sense of this thing between us that felt so much like a second chance and a ticking time bomb all at once.

He reached out then, his hand brushing against mine, a gentle touch that was almost like a challenge. “I’m not asking you to forget the past. I’m not even asking you to believe that we won’t mess this up again. But I am asking you to stop pretending like you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”

And I couldn’t. Because he was right.

As much as a part of me would argue that I could, should, walk away, that I’d be better off if I just left before the inevitable hurt came crashing down, I still wanted him. Ached for him.

I met his gaze, letting him see the uncertainty, the fear, the hope that I couldn’t quite bury.

He held my gaze, unwavering. “Let’s be afraid together. One more time. Let’s make a mess of it, and figure it out as we go. Because I’m tired, too. Of pretending like I don’t want you here. Tired of acting like I don’t see a future where we get it right.”

And I knew, even if I tried to deny it, that for him, I’d hand him my life.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

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

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #ella1k

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solxamber · 5 months ago

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Madly in love with how you write the twst cast its all so good genuinely read the idia x sentient npc one and its SO GOOD I THINK NBJVSD

Tossing in a request since it seems like theyre open,,

How about headcanons oneshot whatever you feel like writing, for Azul in mer form x a reader, who understands what he feels about himself, since before they were frequently bullied too, giving way for reader having a terrible self esteem and image of themselves, so when they happen to see him in merform, with the knowledge of his own opinions of his merform, theyre actively being incredibly encouraging and affectionate towards him maybe moreso than normal, to show they arent gonna hate him for just being himself

Romantic preferred but go with whatever ya wanna if you do end up writin, have a good day ! :]

Good enough - Azul x Reader

Thank you so much!! I'm really glad you liked it! 🫶 and thanks for the request <3 I hope you like it!

Azul had always been self-conscious about his merform. He’d avoid showing it at any cost, especially to you. The sight of his tentacles felt like a reminder of everything he was insecure about. His mind was quick to dredge up memories of those who had ridiculed him—distant echoes that still haunted him.

But today, fate had conspired against him.

You didn’t mean to stumble upon him while he was in his merform, swimming quietly in a private lagoon, seeking solitude. The moment your eyes met his, Azul froze. Panic coursed through him, and his tentacles twitched in agitation. He wanted to flee, to hide, to get out of sight before you said anything that might sting.

Azul immediately tried to disappear beneath the water, a soft ripple marking where he’d submerged. But you could see the tips of his tentacles, still close to the surface, betraying his location.

“Azul?” you called out gently, trying not to spook him. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

A few bubbles rose to the surface. Slowly, his head appeared again, water cascading off his shoulders. He wouldn’t meet your gaze, his eyes averted in shame. “I… didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Neither did I,” you said with a light chuckle, settling yourself by the water's edge. “But since I am, why don’t you talk to me?”

He hesitated, tentacles curling around him protectively. His gaze flickered up briefly before darting back down again. It wasn’t like Azul to look so… vulnerable. You waited patiently, giving him the time to collect his thoughts, refusing to press too hard.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he whispered, “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years. I’ve built myself up to be powerful, untouchable.” He paused, his voice trembling slightly. “But… the bullying… it still got to me more than I’d like to admit.”

The admission felt like it had been pulled from deep within him, something he’d kept buried for far too long. It hurt to hear him speak with such anguish, the usually confident Azul now stripped of his armor.

You slid closer, dipping your feet into the water as if bridging the distance between you could make your words sink deeper. “Azul, that doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you less than what you’ve become.”

Azul’s eyes flicked up to you, filled with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. His tentacles, once coiled tightly around him, relaxed just slightly.

“Those people—they didn’t define you. You’ve done that for yourself,” you continued, voice steady and firm. “And you’ve built something incredible, something they could never take from you. But it’s okay if it still hurts. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He was silent for a long moment, letting your words sink in. Slowly, his tentacles began to uncurl further, stretching out in the water like a silent surrender.

“You know, I was bullied too when I was younger."

Azul's gaze flickered, his usual composure faltering. He wasn't expecting that. You had always seemed so confident, so at ease. He could scarcely imagine you feeling the same shame he had once felt.

"I get it. People can be cruel, and they don’t need a good reason to tear you down. I thought it was because something was wrong with me… because I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for them to be kind."

Azul remained silent, but you saw his posture relax ever so slightly. You continued, voice softer, “But I’m starting to realize… that I’m not what they said I was. And neither are you.”

His tentacles curled in close again, an instinctive defense. His voice was hesitant when he spoke. “And what am I, in your eyes?”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “Someone who doesn’t have to hide. Someone who’s clever, capable… and worth being proud of. Tentacles or not.”

Azul was staring now, looking for any trace of deception or insincerity in your words. But he found none. Instead, he found your gentle gaze, filled with admiration that made his heart race in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re... not disgusted?" he asked softly, the vulnerability in his tone almost breaking your heart.

"Disgusted?" You laughed gently. "Azul, no way. Actually..." You leaned in conspiratorially, "I think you look beautiful."

Azul looked at you then, truly looked at you. His eyes were wide with surprise, as though he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Slowly, his lips quirked up into a faint smile, tentative but genuine.

“Beautiful, huh?” he asked softly, a touch of amusement in his tone, but there was something deeper in his gaze—something vulnerable and hopeful.

You smiled back at him. “Absolutely. And, Azul… you don’t have to hide from me. I see you. All of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never expected to hear words like that, not directed at him, not sincerely. And from you? Someone he held in such high regard? Azul wasn’t sure how to respond, so he did the only thing he could—he let your words sink in.

As he studied you—his tentacles uncoiling slowly in the water—you reached out, your hand grazing the smooth surface of one of them. His breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your touch was light, affectionate. Comforting.

For the first time in a long while, Azul felt… accepted. He felt like he didn’t need to hide, not from you. The world might still be cruel, but with you by his side, it didn’t seem so overwhelming.

In a quieter voice, you added with a teasing grin, “Plus, if anyone has a problem with your tentacles, you could just... slap them out of the way, right?”

Azul’s laugh bubbled up unexpectedly—rich and genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You both shared a warm silence for a moment before he raised one of his hands from the water. His fingers were delicate and graceful as he reached for yours, gently intertwining them. “Thank you… for seeing me.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze, your voice filled with determination. “You don’t have to thank me, Azul. I’m always going to see you.”

As you sat there, your hand intertwined with Azul's, the world seemed to slow down around you. The soft ripple of the water, the gentle warmth of the sun filtering through the lagoon, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a perfect bubble outside of reality. You couldn’t help but notice the way Azul’s fingers fit so naturally with yours, his touch unexpectedly warm and comforting.

Azul’s gaze was locked on you, something unreadable and intense flickering in his deep blue eyes. His tentacles, which had once been so tightly coiled, now drifted lazily in the water, brushing lightly against your legs. There was a new kind of softness to him, a vulnerability that he’d only ever shown to you.

“You really are something special,” he repeated, this time with a weight that made your heart skip a beat.

His voice was low, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. The smile on your lips faltered for a moment as the air around you seemed to shift, charged with a sudden tension that was anything but uncomfortable. Azul’s eyes flickered down to your hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You’re the only one who’s ever seen me like this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The only one who’s ever made me feel… worthy”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. His words, so genuine and vulnerable, struck a chord deep within you. You hadn’t expected him to open up like this, hadn’t anticipated the way your own emotions would swell in response.

“And you…” Azul’s voice softened even more as he met your gaze again, his eyes glinting with something that made your pulse quicken. “You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel truly seen.”

There was a pause—a heartbeat where neither of you moved, and yet everything seemed to change. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, the distance between you was closing, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The scent of saltwater hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of his presence.

Azul’s free hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light as though you were something fragile, precious. He studied your face with an intensity that made your cheeks heat, his expression soft but filled with something deeper, something that made your chest ache.

Then, before you could process it, Azul gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, almost hesitant at first, as though he were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, it felt like everything around you disappeared—the lagoon, the past, the pain of old memories—none of it mattered in that moment.

You responded in kind, leaning into the kiss, your hand tightening around his as if to ground yourself in the reality of it all. His lips were warm against yours, soft and reassuring, and the taste of the sea lingered faintly on them. It was a quiet, tender kiss, filled with unspoken promises and a vulnerability that neither of you had dared show the world before now.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you shared the same space, the same air. Azul’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes dark and warm with a depth of affection you hadn’t expected to see there.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but unwavering. “Inside and out.”

Azul closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath. When he opened them again, they were filled with something warm and tender, something that made your heart feel like it was swelling in your chest.

“And you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion, “are more than I ever deserved.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Azul, you deserve everything.”

Azul smiled at you, the expression soft and genuine in a way that made your heart flutter. His hand still cradled your cheek, and as he leaned in again, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, you couldn’t help but feel like, for the first time in a long time, you both had finally found something—someone—worth holding onto.

And in that soft, intimate moment, beneath the soft sunlight, it felt as though the walls he’d carefully built around himself were beginning to fall. Not entirely gone, but for the first time, Azul felt he didn’t need them quite as much—not with you here, not with the way you looked at him, like he was something precious.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #hurt/comfort #reverse comfort

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petday · 6 months ago

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your art is so so so so inspiring to me which is strange bc my style isnt very similar to yours at all. but it makes me happy to see your art, especially when you make art from things from childhood id forgotten about💫💫💫💫💫🩷🩷🩷🩷

Thanks. Your message and similar messages from others over the years inspired me to try to put into words why I draw 'nostalgic things'. I ended up writing a lot.

There was a period of time when I became cynical about being seen as an 'artist who reminds people of childhood' or a 'nostalgic artist'. I no longer feel that way but I will explain why. Some artists, who I like and respect, will sometimes mention 'nostalgia holding artist's growth back' and 'nostalgia causes learned helplessness.' But I feel differently.

Maybe I perceive time differently. I have lived long enough to witness cycles of 'what is valued, and what is not valued' repeated. For example, I loved what is now called 'Y2K' style, but during mid 2000s, for whatever reason it was derided as something to be left in the past, something embarrassing. "Aren't we glad we optimized things now, and they are 'sleeker' and less complex? Old things were childish, an embarrassing weakness for humans, we must advance and reach our ideal evolution." That became the common attitude. I felt pressure to have the same thoughts. I just couldn't make myself feel that way no matter what, though. Even with the increasing threats about, 'keep up with others or you won't ever develop positive social relationships!' I couldn't change my mind.

(If what is currently valued becomes devalued and then it becomes valuable after that… that's an odd cycle to me. For example, if we like bananas, even when bananas cannot be harvested, we still like them even though they occupy a smaller space in our minds but we don't deride them. Going even further, though, I sometimes wonder if it is possible for humans to eventually remove the 'devaluation' stage, particularly in art 'trends' as I am an artist. Whatever is considered valuable remains valuable. A counter arguement would be, 'no, the devaluation of the previous thing is exactly what causes the next thing to be valued, and then the cycle flows beautifully: X was valued -> Y is valued, X is devalued -> Y is devalued, X becomes valuable again. If you want X to always remain valuable, just develop better patience. Like we cannot pick fruit we like all year, we cannot simply keep adding onto the pile of things we like, something has to be seen as inferior by the majority of humans.' I disagree. I might explain my thoughts against this argument more in the future.)

Anyway, what people call 'Y2K style' or 'art that emulates how things commonly appeared in early years of 2000s' is popular nowadays. Even someone who did not grow up with it can become attracted to it. That 'desire' itself is a communication between past and present. Something can make someone feel 'lighter' [in sense of, "wow, the crushing weight of my circumstance feels not so crushing when I look at this'] -- a similar 'light' to how someone in the past was perceiving it when it was the present and not the past. So, even though two people were born in different eras and may not become friends or even meet, they're still connected by that 'lighthearted' feeling they both like. I know it will be seen as 'lower value' soon, but I truly cannot care because as I mentioned earlier, I might perceive 'time' weirdly.

When I started playing video games, a family member would point out, 'those games were made before you were born, interesting!' but that statement confused me at the time since my perception was, 'well, if these games are from before I was born, I don't understand why she is bringing attention to it. Why is it interesting? It's just regular. They're alive in the present now, because I'm in the present and so are they.' That was when I was a very young child. I subconsciously kept the same feeling even as I was reaching teenage and adult years. The feeling echoed when people liked to ask the question 'why are you still playing games from long ago?' as I got older but still played the same 'old' games. The answer: they are beautiful and will remain beautiful, and something made in the past is still communicating in the present, so are they really truly 'outdated inferior games'...? Just because the cycle of valued and devalued happened to be in a different position and those old things were seen as an embarrassment? (Now there are popular games inspired by the era of games many people ridiculed me for consistently enjoying, lol. Similarly, I was using 'crappy' old versions of programs even through 2017. Now people from wealthy upbringing and background use 'crappy' programs willingly. lol)

The present talks to the past all the time, nostalgia is not a dead end. In that sense I cannot see nostalgia as a death trap but rather a connection made from past to present. A string between the past and present that feelings can crawl across and communicate. Feelings such as 'I wish my life took a different direction. I can't make things like how they were back then, it won't ever be the same again, so I'll do nothing.' The criticism of 'nostalgia' is towards that last sentence. But there are things you can do with those feelings. 'Doing nothing is boring. And I keep thinking of that fun drawing I saw... I kinda wanna try to make something.' Making something while thinking of the past and present at the same time, so there is a communication between past self and present self. Pure bitterness communicating with slightly light-hearted view, the 'end result' is artwork/creation.

*I used light-hearted feeling as example, but nostalgia can exist for any feeling, and not just for people who were nice when they were younger. If someone was cruel as a child/teenager, after the person has been an adult for a while, they can communicate with their younger self about what was it about the cruelty that was enjoyable, and then extract a small part from the cruelty that they wish to bring back into the present -- example, the attraction to 'high speed activities, playful mischievousness' can be extracted from 'hurting people on purpose so they will acknowledge/react to you'. The dialogue could be something like, "'honestly, you and I both know spamming people with bad things felt pretty fun at the time, so let's just keep the 'high energy mischievousness' feeling and leave behind the crap that hurt people deeply, and let's make an animation while thinking of that high energy feeling.

^ I don't answer questions or reply to messages often because of giving answers that aren't too long or too short is tough for me. lol. Thanks for liking my art. I like a lot of art that doesn't resemble mine as well. It's fun! Like appreciating different flavours in the same meal even if you cannot make the meal yourself.

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