#cause the end of the second was heartbreaking for reasons

[bardicious]

I mean, I know why I love those trek books so much, Omne is literally like Hannibal to Jim, except Jim does not appreciate the attention... and is already with the love of his life (Spock)

[silverskyeline]

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

[f1fantasys]

I‘ve got this little idea where Lando is angry about having to give the win to Oscar and he takes his anger out on reader but then Oscar calls Lando when they are in the middle of sonething ;) and Lando eventually picks up :D I don’t know if you like this

Thank you for this! I love it. Hope you enjoy it anon, I hope it's what you were hoping for. Remember - requests are always open.

Post Race

Warnings - mild angst, smut, fingering, m and f receiving oral, swearing

2.1K

Today's race was a complete shitshow. Watching it was one thing, but listening to it was a whole other ballgame. Hearing how the pit wall lied, manipulated and guilt tripped Lando was heartbreaking to hear. Lando was already a sensitive being, but it was safe to say - sensitive or not - no driver deserved this kind of treatment from their own team.

You knew Lando was going to be upset, take the blame on himself for everything, but it was now your job to make him understand that none of today was his fault, and he was the one fucked over.

As he drove into his P2 place you stood watching him from the barriers. You expected to see him with a defeated look on his face, eyes sad as they usually would be after coming so close to a win and having it snatched away from him. But you didn't see any of that. Here was an angry Lando, pissed off, body language completely not what you were expecting.

He walked up to where his mechanics and you were standing. He threw words of anger, not directly to them, but rather for the team. When he looked at you his eyes bore into yours, not softening sweetly as they usually do when he looks at you. This was a very pissed off man standing in front of you, and you knew nothing you said at this moment was going to calm him down. You just bit your lip and gave his bicep a squeeze, before he was called for his interview and the podium.

As soon as that was done Lando went to finish up his other interviews. You waited for him in his drivers' room, trying to find a way to calm your own nerves and be prepared for whatever emotions Lando was going to go through.

After some time you heard Lando's voice getting louder, setting his frustrations out on Jon, about the race, about how it wasn't Oscar's race to win. His room door flew open before he quickly came inside and shut the door behind him.

''Lando -'''you started, but he cut your off.

''Just don't!. We're leaving. Flying back home. Don't want to spend another minute here'' he threw harshly at you.

''Okay, but baby please -''

''Fuck Y/N, just stop talking'' he cut you off again.

You gulped and just nodded your head, gathering your things, not saying another word. You knew his anger wasn't towards you. Basically any one who came into contact with him since the race ended has had his anger thrown at them. And you honestly struggled to find any reason to blame him.

The flight home was a silent one. You kept your distance knowing he would come to you when he was ready.

Once back at your shared apartment you hoped the comfort of the place would calm Lando down and let you be there for him.

He immediately started to unpack his bags, it was always the first thing he did once he was back home after a bad race.

''Lan I'm going for a shower'' you quietly told him as you stepped into the bathroom and started stripping when he didn't say anything back.

The warm water instantly calmed your tense body, and it had you involuntarily moaning with how good it felt.

What you didn't know was Lando had heard your moans, and for a second got angrier at the thought that you were pleasuring yourself when he was literally in the next room.

The bathroom door flew open and banged against the wall, causing you to jump and shudder with a fright.

''What the fuck are you doing?'' Lando asked, voice laced with venom, although his actions had your mind confused because he started stripping himself.

''I-What?'' you asked, mind blurred with what was going on.

He opened the shower door and you saw him in all his glory. Face red with anger, muscles taunt, and his god damn thick girth standing hard and tall, angrier than his face. His eyes shamelessly roamed your body, which had you suddenly dripped with want.

He stepped into the shower and pushed you against the wall roughly, but not enough to hurt you.

You cupped your chin and held it up so your face was gazing up at his.

''Touching yourself? When I'm right here?'' he asked, his voice and his hold on you softening instantly.

''What?'' you whispered, mind still confused at everything thats' happened in the last minute or so.

Lando's bought his fingers to toy with your cunt, slipping through your folds roughly.

''Lan oh uh'' you breathed, closing your eyes and enjoying what he was doing to you.

''Don't oh me'' he said, voice not as soft now.

''Lan, wasn't touching myself. Just felt relieved with the hot water on my body'' you breathed out, trying to grind yourself on his fingers.

''Say what you want babygirl'' he said, before leaning down to take the breath out of you in a heated, rough kiss. While at the same time he slipped two fingers through your entrance and set a relentless pace.

You moaned into him and you wrapped your arms around his head and pulled at his curls, edging him on to continue.

''Wasn't touching myself Lan'' you repeated as you pulled back for air. ''Not when I have you for that'' you whispered, pulling him in again.

He sped up his fingers and curled them so precisely so he was suddenly hitting that spongy spot inside you that sent you trembling over the edge, releasing your cum all over his hand while biting on his lower lip to ride through the pleasure.

''Look at you, dripping like this for me'' he roughly said before kissing you again and letting his tongue explore your mouth. All you could do was moan into the kiss again, trying to keep your body at bay from your unexpected orgasm.

Lando then pushed you down to your knees before pumping himself. You looked at his girth, saw how red and hard he was. The vein on the side looking like it was about to explode. You held onto his thighs as Lando pushed himself into your mouth, and hissing at the contact of your tongue on him.

He fucked into your mouth violently, hitting the back of your throat with each thrust which in turn had to gagging around him. Your mouth a mess of spit dripping down your chin.

You moaned around him again, creating a vibration at everything he was feeling, when he started talking again, this time about the race.

''Got fucked over by my own fucking team again, but at least I can come home and fuck you over now''

You moaned at his words, rubbing your thighs together slightly.

''That what you want huh? Already desperate for my cock, aren't you?'' you said as he slammed into your mouth again.

''Hmm mm'' you said, Lando not giving you a chance to say anything back.

You could feel his movements getting sloppier and clumsy, he was close, and you eagerly waited to taste him.

Suddenly though, he pulled out of your mouth. You whined in response when you saw hum shut the water off and step out the shower, pulling you behind him.

He quickly dried both of your bodies before he roughly picked you up by your ass and walked back into your bedroom, throwing you on the bed.

Lando spread your legs apart and wasted to time in running his cock through your folds before hammering into your cunt, bottoming out in one thrust.

''Fuck, Lando!'' you shrieked, body shuddering at the intrusion.

He didn't say a word. He just bought his hand to your throat and lightly put his pressure on it, using it to set a fast and rough pace, while his tongue settled on your hard nipples, biting and tugging on them.

''Yes Lan, god, feels amazing, fuck me harder, please'' you begged him, nails digging into the muscles on his back, probably even drawing blood from how hard you were scratching him.

He chuckled sarcastically. ''Harder, she says'' before his movements rapidly increased, making you a moaning mess underneath him.

That was until the sound of Lando's phone ringing on his beside halted your movements.

Lando scoffed when he saw who was calling him.

''Fucking pathetic. Steals my win from me then has the audacity to phone me while I'm fucking my girl''

You couldn't help but smile at the mention of being ''his girl'' while he was this riled up.

But you knew Lando had to speak to Oscar at some point. Might as well get it over and done with.

''Lan answer it, talk to him. You need to'' you cooed.

But Lando showed no signs of stopping fucking into you.

''He can fuck off. Don't wanna speak to him right now'' Lando angrily threw back at you.

While all this was going on you couldn't hold back your orgasm, so you violently gushed all over Lando's cock, moaning out his name, surely for the neighbors to hear.

As Lando chased his own release his phone started ringing again. This time though he held his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans and answered Oscar's call, not slowly his movements whatsoever.

''Osc'' he sarcastically threw through the call. He had it on loudspeaker so as much as you wanted to go into a phase of bliss, you listened in.

''Lando'' Oscar said, voice sounding weary, while Lando still pounded into you, eyes on yours.

''I just listened to everything. The on boards, everything. If I had known they were lying to you about your tyres and everything I wouldn't have wanted my first win like this. I didn't know you had a glitch at the start. Seriously, i hate that I took a win from you''

''Lando?'' he asked when Lando didn't reply, instead picked up his breathing into his phone.

''Fuck. I-I'' Lando panted, movements coming to halt.

''It's not your fault Oscar. The team fucked both of us today. But you deserved the win. Enjoy it'' Lando cooed back.

You couldn't help but admire Lando's humanity. He truly was such a selfless, incredible person.

''Yeah but still. Shit day for the both of us'' Oscar replied back.

Lando's eyes on you grew soft and tender for the first time since the race ended.

''Mate. We'll chat soon. But seriously, you only win for the first time once, so take it and enjoy it''

''Thanks'' Oscar said, and if he wanted to say anymore you wouldn't have heard it because Lando ended the call and threw his phone to the other side of the bed.

He leaned down and locked his lips with yours in a tender kiss, before he let all his weight fall on you and started to thrust into you again, not fucking you, but just making love to you.

You held his face in your hands and kissed him again, slow and deep, your own tongue slipping into his mouth and memorizing every inch of him.

Within minutes you had your body shaking underneath him, your warm juices sliding across his aching dick.

''Lan, fuck'' you moaned out.

''Fuck y/n, so frickin tight for me'' he whispered before his cock started twitching inside of you and in no time you felt him release his milky cum to fill you up. He moaned into your ear as he rode through his orgasm as you just wrapped your arms around him and held him as close as possible.

You stayed like that for a few minutes until he started softening, so he pulled out, the both of you moaning at the loss of contact.

Lando layed beside you and pulled you to his side.

''Lando-''

''Wait, I'm sorry for being angry at you. You know it wasn't you. It was the fucking team, and I'm not okay with how they treated me today. But thank you for being there for me. I love you so much''

''Lan I love you too. You're amazing and I swear I fall more in love with you every second of every day. You'll get that win soon enough. I know it. Until then, hold onto my love for you''

He kissed your forehead, then chuckled.

''What's so funny?'' you asked, giggling at him.

''And thank you for moaning in the shower. Fucking thought you were getting yourself off in there''

''Hmmm Lan, you should know better by now. Can't get myself off when I can have you there to fuck me whenever I want'' you both chuckled and kissed again.

[eufezco]

HOW DID IT END?

How is it that Steve's departure only drove you further apart? How was it possible that the only thing left between you after all was hatred for each other? Maybe these questions could be answered in a therapy session or in a night together.

bucky x fem!reader (angst, smut with plot, lovers to enemies to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

—James, condition of your release, session now.

You looked at Bucky and he looked back at you, pressing his lips together and starting to walk after his therapist, annoyed.

—You too, young lady.

—That's okay, I can wait here with Sam.

—It wasn't a request. Sam, you have front-row seats for the show if you like—. The demanding tone in her voice surprised you and you had no choice but to follow her.

The therapist sat down at the table and opened her notebook. You and Bucky were at the other side of the table, sitting next to each other and in front of the woman. You didn't look at each other, you had not even shared a word. Sam, who was leaning against the wall behind the therapist, looked at both of you and shook his head. Steve was right when he said that you were both equally stubborn.

—So, who would like to start?

—I don't even know what I'm doing here. This is ridiculous.

—Yeah, I agree —. Bucky added.

—See? Making progress already —. She waited a few seconds to see if either of you would like to talk but you and Bucky remained silent. Dr. Raynor sighed, if it was already difficult to deal with him alone, it would be twice as difficult to deal not only with Bucky but also with a copy of him as a woman. —It is my job to make sure you're okay. And yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it's the only way that I can see if you're getting over whatever's eating at you.

You huffed a laugh and Bucky rolled his eyes. Whatever's eating at you? What could possibly be eating at you? There was nothing that-

—So, why don't you both start by telling me what kind of relationship you had with Steve Rogers?

Your expression changed completely when you heard his name. Bucky looked at you out of the corner of his eyes, Sam's eyes also went to you as he tensed his back when Dr. Raynow brought Steve up out of nowhere. Bucky decided to start talking but you couldn't hear what he was saying, you could only focus on how tense your jaw was, the knot in your stomach, and all the anger you were feeling.

Just as it was a relief for Bucky to think and talk about Steve, it hurt you. There was never anything romantic about your friendship with Steve, it was purely based on your devotion to him and your mutual admiration and respect.

When you lost Bucky and Steve crashed into the ice, you had no reason to live but before your heart stopped beating, Howard Stark found you and injected you with the serum. And when you woke up there was only Steve, seventy years later and just as confused as you, living in a century that did not belong to you.

You were together during the whole process of readjusting to your new lives. For Steve, you joined a group of people who called themselves the Avengers and fought against the god of mischief in New York. For Steve, you were almost killed by a robot in Sokovia. For Steve, you fought the Winter Soldier. For Steve, you sided against Tony Stark, the son of the man who brought you back to life, and for Steve, you fought, lost, fought again, and won against Thanos.

They say there is no worse heartbreak than that caused by a friend and Steve Rogers stole a piece of your heart when he left.

—Thank you, James. What can you tell us about Steve? —Dr. Raynor asked you.

You shook your head, your eyes fixed on one spot. The feeling of betrayal when Steve didn't return within the five seconds set by Bruce still haunted you. —I will never forgive him.

Bucky shook his head as well, he turned to look at you. —You know, Dr. Raynor? I've met her for more than seventy years now and one thing that hasn't changed about her is how selfish she is.

—James, we are not here to make value judgments about the feelings experienced by the other person.

The condescending tone in Bucky's voice made you close your eyes and take a deep breath before you talked. —You were captured by HYDRA, tried to kill us, then went into cryogenic sleep and disappeared with the snap. I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through since you never lost Steve because you never had him.

—He was my best friend! —Bucky raised his tone and turned in his chair to look at you.

—You don't even remember a single thing of him before he became Captain America!

Sam called your name. That wasn't Bucky's fault.

—He left because that was the life he fought so many years for! That's the life Steve deserved!

—He was my best friend too! We were together all these years while you were killing people and I had to watch him go! —You did the same as him. That was the first time you looked at each other since the session started and you were yelling at each other. Sam didn't miss any part of the argument, he was with his arms crossed and paying attention to everything you were saying to each other. How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this?

—Okay, that's enough —. The doctor stopped you before it went any further. You and Bucky rested your backs on the chair again, defeated, and your eyes focused on the therapist. —Since this isn't working, we're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they're trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna built together —. The doctor added. Bucky rolled his eyes and you closed yours while shaking your head.

—You are acting as if you were never a couple —Sam said.

—Back in 1940.

—Yeah, eighty-two years ago.

You both said at the same time.

—Come on, turn around, look at each other.

Both of you hesitated for a few seconds but finally turned to face each other. His blue eyes were fixed on yours, it was difficult to keep eye contact with him.

—The exercise is called Everytime I look at you and consists of saying something that you feel or see in the other person every time you look at them. Why don't you start?

As you looked at Bucky, you could see the young soldier, wearing his new uniform proudly and hanging a copy of his dog tag around your neck. Looking into Bucky's eyes you felt again the last kiss he gave you before falling from the train, you heard his last laugh before he was brainwashed by HYDRA, you could even feel the caress of his fingers on your skin before the vibranium covered one of his hands.

—Every time I look at you, you have that lost puppy look on your face, asking for people's sympathy. I can't even look at you because every time I do, your mere presence reminds me that Steve's no longer here and it makes me want to fucking die, and sometimes I wish-

Sam called your name and you stopped talking before you could finish the sentence. Bucky's eyes never left yours. You were saying all that to his face.

—Let her finish, Sam —. Dr. Raynor said.

There was a silence.

—And sometimes I wish you were gone instead of him.

As Bucky looked at you, he could see the young lady he fell in love with even though everything he remembered about her was gone. The sparkle in that girl's eyes could no longer be found in yours, but he couldn't forget how your eyes shone as he wrapped his arms around your waist to dance. Bucky did not forget the sound of your laughter when he told you that he would marry you after the war, even though he was totally serious.

—Every time I look at you I don't recognize you. You have changed for the worse and I'm not sure if I like this version of you. You are mean, you don't allow people to get close to you and you hide and say that it's Steve's fault for leaving. But let me just say...

Bucky could see how you dealt with sadness by turning it into anger, he knew it because he did the same thing. Your jaw tightened and you closed your fists so hard that your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands. You didn't want him to say it, but at the same time, you couldn't wait to hear it.

—... that being a bitch isn't going to bring him back.

As soon as Bucky finished the sentence, you got up from the chair and left the room slamming the door. He didn't react to you leaving, he just sat in the chair asking himself the same question as Sam. How did you come to this? How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this? Sam tried to go after you but he could not keep up with your super soldier speed so he went back to the police station with Bucky and gave him the same look of disappointment that Steve would have given him.

That same night someone knocked on your front door.

You thought it would be Sam because he had been calling you nonstop since you left and you had been ignoring him all day long but when you opened the door, you found Bucky instead.

He took a step closer to you to go inside your house and your hand connected firmly with his cheek. The skin on his face burned right where you had hit him and your body was blocking the doorway. He was just as angry as you were so he gave you a strong push on your shoulders. You managed to keep your balance and he managed to get inside the house and close the door behind him.

Bucky towered you with a challenging attitude, keeping eye contact while forcing you to take a few steps backward. You, despite being shorter than him, did not lower your head. Your breathing was heavy, the tension was too much, you wanted to hit him again and you wanted to say worse things to him than what you said in the therapy session.

When you raised your hand to slap him again, he grabbed your arm with his vibranium hand and squeezed hard enough for it to hurt but you did not give him the pleasure of expressing the pain. The tension was overwhelming. There were only two ways to solve this, either he would let go of your arm and start a fight that wouldn't end until both of you were on the floor exhausted and bleeding, or...

Your bodies collided as you pressed your lips together. Bucky held your face with both hands while his lips devoured yours as your hands pulled on the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms so you could take it off and in that moment you took a few seconds to admire his well-defined abs. He leaned in for another kiss but you pushed him by his shoulder, strong enough for his back to hit against a wall of your house and crack it. Before he could complain, you connected your lips with his again.

Bucky's fingers closed around your neck as a response. Your mouth opened against his lips, trying to get the air that he was keeping from reaching your lungs and Bucky's tongue went pass your lips.

You took a big breath of air once he let go of your neck and he began to unbutton your jeans. He would never admit it but he made sure that you were okay and that he had not taken it too far, especially when your hands went to his shoulders to keep your balance due to the dizziness. And when Bucky thought he had control over you, your fingernails slid painfully from his shoulders to his abdomen and he groaned.

Bucky threw his head back against the wall once your finger sneaked into his jeans and wrapped around his cock. You moved your hand cruelly slow, he had his eyes closed as he bit his lower lip to hold back his moans. You ran your tongue along his collarbone until you reached his earlobe. —I fucking despise you —. You whispered in his ear. He let out a moan and immediately clenched his jaw again. You felt his hips thrust into your hand.

—Fucking same, doll —. Bucky muttered through gritted teeth.

He brought his hands to your ass and squeezed it as he helped you to wrap your legs around his body. Your lips met again as he walked you to the big wooden table in your living room where he helped you to lie down. Bucky pulled his jeans down enough to free his hard cock while you opened your legs to him. He noticed the wet spot on your panties and you noticed the red marks that your fingernails had carved on his chest. As he pulled your panties to the side, your fingers ran over those marks and Bucky hissed.

The head of his cock was more than enough to stretch you open. You repositioned yourself at the table, now sitting up on your elbows to watch as he pushed himself inside of you. You thought he would give you a few seconds to get used to the feeling, but he didn't stop until he was balls deep inside you.

—Now you take it. Make it up for that attitude —. You whined at his words and Bucky rested his forehead against yours while his hips thrusted into yours.

You encircled your legs around his waist and hooked your ankles over the swell of his ass while he kept slamming his hips into you. At that point you couldn't even think straight, he was hitting all the right spots to make your mind foggy. His pace remained fast and hard, and you thought about the serum running through your veins and how you both could keep up with that pace all night long.

Bucky tucked his head into your neck and whispered the filthiest words into your ear, his hands were on your thighs, squeezing your flesh lustfully, he pulled his dick all way out and then pushed in again until his balls were against your pussy. Your fingers tugged his brown hair at the root, getting moans from him because of your tight grip as it encouraged him to fuck you even harder. If that was how hating you felt, he wanted to hate you for all eternity.

When he heard you moaning and whimpering uncontrollably, when your legs fought to close and squeezed his body, when he felt your nails digging into the skin of his back, Bucky pushed your legs up, hooking your legs over his shoulders, and kept fucking you in that position until it became harder and harder for him to keep going because of the tightness of your pussy. You came screaming his name and spasming around him, Bucky came a few seconds later, with a deep groan that made his chest vibrate and emptying himself inside you.

The next morning, when his alarm went off, Bucky was alone in your bed. He took his time to take a shower and grab something from your kitchen for breakfast before he left. Bucky walked to his therapist's office, trying not to give much importance to what happened last night and especially trying not to think about all the horrible things you said to each other earlier that day in front of Sam and Dr. Raynor.

When he entered the office, Dr. Raynor was not alone. Bucky almost apologized and closed the door again, thinking he interrupted someone's session, but then you turned around in your chair and looked at him. He looked back at you, surprised, from the doorway.

You were already inside, now it was up to him to decide whether to go in with you. Bucky didn't have to think about it, he closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair next to you. You wanted to give yourselves a chance, for your sake, for Steve's sake, and for trying to get back what you two once had.

—Let's try again, shall we? —Dr. Raynor asked with a smile.

[shycloudkitty]

You're too sweet for a monster like me

Summary : Leon's drowning his pain and suffering with whiskey. But you might be his true salvation.

Pairing : Vendetta Leon! × Fem Reader (A little bit of pre vendetta)

Tags : Established relationship, self deprecating talk (Leon does with himself), mostly angst with little comfort. (But it's there) and alcoholism

A/N: Update on why I disappeared for a while. It's because things got rocky with my academics and I recently broke up :( But not to worry I'm not gonna let a little heartbreak set me back.

And for this fic I'm thinking it to be a little pre vendetta Leon, like the incidents that led to him having depression in Vendetta.

It's gonna a be short fic, may or may not write a part 2 about this. Let me know!

WC: 1.6K

Sound of whiskey getting poured in a glass fills the emptiness of the living room he was in. After all this was all he could do, the only thing he had control in his poor pathetic life.

One mission after another after another. Leon was getting tired after endless fights with the B.O.Ws, corrupt governments in countless countries that were ‘speculated’ to have a new damned virus or a bioweapon war waiting to happen.

And every damn time he was supposed to deal with it, he was supposed to do the government’s dirty work for them, he was supposed to fight every goddamned ugly creature created by the worst of mankind, he had to carry out every gut wrenching decision that government instructed him to do, everytime he was the last man standing and he was never gonna get out of this cycle.

Yes, that's right. He was just a little puppet for the government that was supposed to fight B.O.Ws for them. Someone who was blackmailed into this life and do their bidding, by of course the government.

At first, he tried to take it positively and thought of how many people he could save like he always wanted to and at such a large scale. Something he was extremely passionate about since he was a kid… saving people's lives, protecting them. That's why he wanted to be a cop and now that he was a government ‘special’ agent he would be able to do more.

But he definitely didn't expect the destruction those missions would cause on his own self too, taking every piece of his humanity, every last hope he seemed to have, gone & extinguished in the flames of every bioweapon war he was called in. He definitely didn't expect and could never have anticipated what he was getting thrown into.

When will this cycle end?

A question he thought every second of his life but never had the answer. Forced to play hero each time and with no real win, fighting was like choosing between the lesser of two evils.

He was just a weapon, just a pawn that the government moved each time when they wanted to achieve something. And why would a pawn's life matter in the grand scheme of things? A pawn was created just to be shot down. And that's what he was.

While he was lost in thoughts and his whiskey all alone. He almost missed the soft voice whispering his name, such a gentle voice calling out to him. Feeling a soft hand on his back, trying to get his attention. He turned back to see who it was… and there was the reason. You.

Soft eyes looking at him with a sympathetic smile asking him how he was or that he had eaten anything today?

Leon slowly shook his head to get out of the fog clouding his brain and blinked a few times to focus on you.

Leon's words slurred as he spoke “What?”

“I asked how are you doing today?” Your soft words of concern clearing his brain fog better, making him aware of his surroundings and himself.

Leon blinks once more and looks down at his whiskey and then back at you. “... Better than yesterday.” A lie, he was the same as yesterday.

He could see her lips twitch in a small smile as she sat down besides him on the couch and said. “You're a terrible liar when drunk…”

Leon managed a soft huff at her reply. It almost weirded him out that you could see through him, but he guessed that's what happens when you have someone who cares for you. Leon looked away, sighing deeply and replied. “I'm just tired…”

Leon heard a soft sigh, feeling the soft couch dip a bit as she shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and gently held his hand. “Leon… I'm always here for you, you know that right? I may not be able to give solid advice to you, but I'm a good listener.”

You could feel him relax under your touch a bit and saw him look your way from the corner of his way, still not facing you. “...I know.”

“So, you know I'm also worried about you?”

Leon winces at that, the last thing he wanted was you to worry about his pathetic self. You already have done so much for him just staying by his side through all this. Hell, you were an angel just for putting up with him and actually loving him. You weren't supposed to be worried about him and you definitely weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

Leon clears his throat and shifts a little bit away from you although he didn't let go of your hand and says. “I…It's nothing.”

You couldn't help but frown at how closed off he was being for the last few days, you understand that his last mission was rough although he never went into details about his missions with you. And you knew he needed space to process all of it but you hated the way he was ‘processing’ his loss. Drinking, lost in thoughts and closing off when you tried to get close. It was hard for both of you.

You slowly shifted towards him again, getting close to him once again. Gently taking the whiskey glass from his hands and moving it away from him. “Leon…”

He looks back at you and he looks…lost. A raging storm of emotions present in those pretty blue eyes of his that you loved so much. “I know it's hard Leon and I'm happy to give you space to think but the way you're doing it… is making me worried.”

You took a deep breath and continued. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can't… see you like this.”

He closes his eyes and deeply sighs once more, years of weariness and defeat visible on his face. He shakes his head and whispers. “You're not supposed to worry about me…”

Leon feels soft hands cup his face gently as she replies. “Can't help it. It sorta happens when you care.”

Leon opens his eyes to see you staring at him with a soft warm smile, your faces close. He presses his forehead against yours for a while trying to calm his anxious thoughts. He then pulls you closer by your waist, pulling you in a hug and burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath. Your scent filling his senses and offering some peace that he needed to ground himself.

He often wondered what he did to deserve you? Did God or whatever the power universe has, take pity on him and decide to gift him an angel? You were always so sweet, so gentle with him, loving, caring, understanding. You were his sunshine and he couldn't look away. All he could do was soak up in the warmth that you always seemed to radiate everywhere you stepped.

You were perfect and it scared the hell out of him.

He was scared that one day you will see the monster he actually was. That one day you will wake up and see him for who he was, the things he had to do to make a living and think what a disgusting monster he was, what he truly was… not some ‘Hero’ or the ‘Golden boy’, just some monster and a weapon crafted to perfection to destroy the undead. And he hopes that day never comes.

He continues to hug you tightly to himself, his face buried in your neck as he takes deep breaths to calm himself. He then softly whispered. “You smell…like daffodils.”

The sudden comment made you chuckle a bit and kissed his cheek, hugging him tightly. “Yeah, I bought a new perfume today, didn't think you would notice. Does it smell bad?”

“... No, it smells good. It suits you.” And sighed deeply. He then whispered. “You're too sweet for me. Don't know what you see in me.”

You turned to face him and kissed his cheek. “don't say that… I see that you're a hard working, resilient person who keeps going even when the odds are stacked up against him. Whatever it is that you're going through… you can pass through it.”

He turned his head to face you, his expression softening into something more vulnerable as you say that. Clearly touched by your words. Feeling a lump rise in his throat as he closes his eyes once more and exhales shakily.

You were so…innocent. You had no idea what was going on in his head or what actually he turned into. You also had no idea about the vicious but repetitive cycle he was in.

Opening up about this life of his…would ruin such a sweet and innocent thing like you, he was sure of that. He knew you weren't a kid or anything or that you never faced hardships in your life. But this…he can't tell you about what he faces out there, what kind of ugliness his line of work shows him everyday, the dark side of humanity.

He can't taint the only ray of sunshine he ever found in his life.

You look up at him with that sweet dazzling smile, thinking he was someone ‘great’. But reality couldn't be farther from the truth.

Hello everyone! Long time no see, I'm sorry for my disappearance. I promise I will try to be regular now, I know this was short I will probably try to make a part 2? Idk but this was mostly written for my creativity to start flowing again. If you liked it please like it and reblog. I would be very grateful 😊

Fun fact: Daffodils are a sign of hope!

Thank you for reading this, hope you have a good day!

-Bella

[estrellayluna]

In another life

Nanami Kento

Synopsis : You promised yourself that you wouldn’t have the same unfortunate fate that your mother had gone through with love. Until your whole world comes crumbling down discovering your husband’s infidelity. Through tears and heartbreak you recall your mothers last words.

(We all know he would never!!) (please check out link once you see it for visuals!!!)

One text message from an unsaved number. One simple message was the reason your whole world came crumbling down in just seconds.

It was vile. The photo. It seemed as if whoever took the photo was in a rush to capture it. A little blurred in some spots but you could immediately make out what it depicted.

Your husband, Nanami having his arms wrapped around a waist of another woman just steps away from his desk. Whoever the woman was, her head was slightly tilted looking up at him with a smile on her face. Arms loosely wrapped around his shoulder blades.

At a loss for words and seemingly unaware the breaths you were holding in, the sudden ache you felt in your chest was growing deeper. Tears forming just before multiple escaping your eyes.

You didn’t want to believe it, but how could you not? The moment you felt the ache in your chest you knew.

-

4 months earlier

The sounds of monitors and footsteps were faint outside the door of your mothers hospital room. The room’s television on low volume as you peel a bright colored orange.

It has been a while coming but your mothers health has been declining since the last attempt of hope with needed surgery. But unfortunately to no avail.

And as much as you wished for your mother to keep fighting she finally made the decision to leave this world in peace. No more mustering up the little strength she had left to the annoyance of appointments or the continuous failed improvements.

So you devoted your time to spend as much time with your mother as you could.

“How is Nanami doing (Y/N),” your mother asks in a soft voice while looking over to you “he hasn’t come along with you for the past 3 weeks or so. Is everything alright?”

Finally finished with peeling the orange and setting it down you smiled at her, “he’s doing fine mom, just busy at work these days. He actually got promoted up at his office job a few days ago.” You tell her with a smile on your face.

Your mother slightly gasps with joy, clasping your hands with yours she beams.

“I’m so happy to hear that, I’m sure the both of you will continue to live a nice peaceful life together. He’s a good man darling, I’ll be able to leave this world in peace knowing you’ll be well taken care of.”

You smile at her words, a pang of joy and sadness.

Your mother was a single mother raising you all on her own. Your father was in the picture up until the age 11. From then on his visits were some and then eventually no more.

Though you didn’t hate him, you grew up more focused on the fact of trying your best to be a good daughter. Not causing too much stress to your mother.

Your father was your mothers first and only love. Only as time passed by, he became unfaithful. Your mother immediately took action into trying to become the best mother she can be with the so little she had. You grew up to promise yourself you refuse to let the same happen to you. To not let this curse that your father casted upon your mother trickle down to you.

“(Y/N), do you want to know why I always called you my little star,” you mother brings up. you can tell she was growing tired some.

8:30 pm

Visiting hours will end soon.

You hum in response, smoothing out the blanket that lays just between you two.

“Because moths always look for light in the darkness. You are my light and star (Y/N). I will forever be grateful to have had you as my daughter.”

Before visiting hours came to an end your head falls onto her lap, tears streaming down as her hands strokes your hair.

-

Moths look for the light in the darkness

Everything you had planned for, promised yourself and your mother was eradicated. You wanted to scream. To make a mess of everything in this home you two shared.

But you can only frown at the thought of your mother disapproving those actions.

You had no idea what to do.

More importantly, what to do with the hidden pregnancy test you tucked away inside your side of the dresser.

Wiping your tears away, headed towards your shared room you look for the test.

You tried to recall when it must have all changed. Was it when Nanami was promoted at work that he was moved to the upper level of the office building?

You recall the first couple of times you stopped by to deliver him lunch that he had forgotten.

The atmosphere was not as welcoming as his previous position. You had felt out of place when just simply asking for your husband at the front desk.

Rummaging through your belongings looking for the damn test you heard the front door open to your apartment.

8:45 pm

Though it was somewhat late, you hadn’t expect him to arrive just yet.

You froze, not sure of anything anymore.

A part of you wanted to confront him, and the other part of you just wanted to be comforted, to be told it was a fake. Absolutely anything else other than being told it was true.

Is this the end?

Finally spotting the pregnancy test you sat down in the corner of the king size bed. Holding the pregnancy test close to you, but hidden from anyone else’s view.

You hadn’t bothered to put all the clothing that fell from your frantic digging back inside.

So when Nanami walked in your shared bedroom, it was the first thing he saw.

“What the hell happened in here?” Nanami sighed placing his briefcase aside the room.

Nanami noticed your lack on response and the fact you weren’t facing him.

“I didn’t intend to have you find out like this (Y/N),” your eyes slightly widen in shock. Nanami brought his left hand to sooth the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know who must have sent that photo to you. And I don’t intend to let that person have the satisfaction of knowing it actually got to you. Though I do have a few people in mind.” Nanami headed towards the closet to find a more comfortable to change into.

If you didn’t think your heart was beating, his lack of empathy causes your heart to break into a million pieces.

How could he be so calm about this..

“Why Nanami,” your voice trembles, your heart beating faster than ever “what caused this to happen?”

Nanami now finally walked towards you, trying to clasp your hands into yours you refuse to budge. The test tightly protected in your hands unbeknownst to him.

Nanami sighs again with a tight stern look on his face. Knowing there’s no longer any chance you’ll be able to come back from it all.

“When your mother passed away you became a shell of yourself (Y/N). It was easy in the beginning to be there for you. But it eventually turned into mindless sex as an escape for you. I did not want to hurt your decisions into avoiding the reality of losing your mother. If you hadn’t ignored your grief,” Nanami continues while taking off his glasses and watch setting them aside, glancing at your reflection at the mirror in front of him. Your eyes finally met “perhaps I could have better helped you understand (Y/N).”

“Who is she? Is she a coworker of yours?” At Nanamis confession, you felt numb. All the anger and sadness you felt dissipated. You wanted nothing more now than to go to sleep and dream of your mom comforting you and feel her hand stroke your hair again even for a mere moment inside your unconscious mind.

“Her name is Kuina. She was employed just a month into when your mother passed,” Nanami turned around to face you, leaning against the drawer head turned slightly down, arms crossed “I didn’t think I would have ever been one to end up doing such a thing (Y/N). I’m sorry.”

‘I’m sorry’

Nanami walked out into the living room closing the door behind him.

-

6 years ago

“Mom are you alright?” Walking into your moms room seeing her working on paper work for your grandmother. Gathering information about her as needed for the funeral home to work on her death certificate.

Your mom looked frantic and tired. Noting the atmosphere felt different, “hey mom, where’s Karube?” Your mom looked up at you putting up a brave face.

“Karube and I are no longer together (Y/N). He and I just realized we weren’t a match really. No need to worry.”

-

Karube ended up cheating on my mother around the same time my grandmother passed away.

Not only did you fail in keeping that promise you made yourself all those years ago.

You failed your mom too.

Hearing the faint sounds of the television being turned on just outside the living room, you tried your best to muffle your cries as it all eventually settled inside of you.

‘You were my light in times of darkness’

Hugging yourself to sleep, it didn’t take long as your cries settled you down.

-

It’s been a week since everything was brought to light. And just 3 days ago you were met with a few documents settled on the main wooden table of the home.

Divorce papers

You sigh with stress laced within. You avoided even looking through everything until the night before your first appointment with your doctor.

Frantically filing everything down, deciding on stopping by Nanamis office before heading to your doctors to drop off the paperwork.

-

Your walk to Nanamis workplace wasn’t how it was before. Your gentle smiles while walking is now replaced by a neutral toned face. The warmth of the sun is no longer a lovely feeling but a sticky hot feeling all over your body.

You hated to be a burden at such a young age. That night, after Nanamis confession you held out on telling him.

Guilt swept over you as you realized how tragic it all is.

This baby wasn’t due to the love you both have for each other, at least not anymore. It’s due to your wanting to escape from your grief.

Oh how your mother would be saddened.

-

Walking up to Nanamis now private office, trying your best to keep your head held high. You noticed that some look over at you knowing the gossip that had gone around. And others who seem to not care at all. You were silently grateful for the few.

Reaching his office, you knocked twice. Looking over your shoulder to see few of his fellow colleagues quickly look away from you as if they weren’t popping their eyes at the front seat view they had.

You let yourself in once you heard an approval from the other side.

Whispers soon ensued as the door closed behind you.

Nanami was looking over paperwork at his desk, eyebrows furrowed in whatever god knows what he deals with nowadays.

“I came to drop off the divorce paper work Kento.” Stating as you walk up his desk, your soft footsteps and his quick writing with pen hitting his paper being the silence breaker between the two of you.

Nanami drops his pen on his desk and looks up at you.

The tall windows of his office gently illuminated your face, earrings softly shimmering and pieces of your hair fall front of your face framing a delicate balance to your face.

‘You became a shell of yourself’

You didn’t try to improve your appearance just for him. Matter of fact you did it for yourself. You refused to let his words eat your self conscious.

Plus, your mother always told you how important it is to be presentable to the public. Not for the approval of others but for your own self.

Handing him the folder, your hands softly brush against each others.

Keeping your calm composure, you stood straight ready to turn around and leave.

“(Y/N)-“ Nanami starts but you had cut him off.

“I plan to leave the apartment soon Kento. If approved in just days time, you need not worry about me being in that place anymore,” you ushered as to turn around once again “have a good day Kento.”

Pushing his office doors to open and leave this place once and for all, you open the doors to Kuina waiting just outside the doors.

You should have known his office colleagues were just as wanting to know what must have been discussed behind the closed doors.

As your eyes met Kuina’s, all you had left in you was a smile.

Just as the doors of his office completely closed, Nanami caught a glance at the exchange.

Deep down inside he knew he had caused enough pain when all you did was smile at her.

-

As the elevator descends to the lower floors of the building it stopped just below the floor that Nanami once was.

As people come in and go, a tall man with white hair and circular dark navy shades shuffled his way to your side as the elevator doors close descending back down once again.

Wood scents, with a note of eucalyptus

You’re familiar with this scent of the man standing next to you. It’s nothing new. Besides you’re fond of the scent. Nothing extreme from what you’ve come across before. Men and their obnoxious amount of sprays.

So you weren’t so sure as to why the man’s scent next to you caused you to almost gag out loud inside the cramp elevator.

Catching your action swiftly your hand goes up to cover your mouth, catching the attention of the tall white haired man.

Looking down at you he asks “you alright miss?”

The elevator finally opens to the first floor and you quickly nod as you try to quickly get out.

“Woah I’m sorry! Was it my doing? Do I smell bad today?” The man looks in disbelief and quite embarrassed.

“No no no,” you try to apologize for your actions “it was actually just me! Im sensitive to smells at the moment.” You tried to explain in embarrassment.

As people continue to pass by the man shyly smile at you, his cheeks turned slightly blushed.

“I apologize then Miss…” he trails off, smiling back once again you introduced yourself “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Nice to meet you (L/N), I’m Gojo Satoru.”

12:44 pm

My appointment is soon, but almost gagging earlier has given me anxiety. What if I can’t make it in time?

It was like if the man you just met sense your urgency and asked if things are alright.

“Oh thank you for the offer, but I’m fine I can go on my own!” You exclaimed as you start to walk towards the front entrance.

The white haired man caught up to you once again before beaming at you with a flashy smile of his

“No worries (L/N), I don’t mind!”

Looking down at the time you realized perhaps it would be best. You were anxious all week once you made your appointment for the doctors.

Looking around your surroundings before finally agreeing, you smiled back up at him thanking him.

You thought you’d follow him to the parking structure but his car was pulled up by the valet.

As the valet driver approached to open your door, Gojo reassured him letting himself open the door for you. Thanking him before settling inside his car, he was walking over to the drivers side.

Gojo looked up feeling a stare burn behind him, before driving away.

-

Y’all idk where this one is going either y’all were supposed to die & be sad.

Part 2? Idk either

(Not proofread I’ve been typing 3 hours straight.)

[ncis-nerd]

But Daddy I Love Him

ship: older!natasha romanoff x younger!reader. wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, mentions of cheating, older nat, jerk nat, younger reader, wanda is kinda a dick, age gap, arguing, being ignored.

a/n: happy ttpd day!!

"I'm done with being your second choice Natasha. Just because I am younger than you, it doesn't mean you can just go off with other women because you're scared to admit that they are what you are looking for. Someone older, more mature, someone you can relate to" Y/N exclaimed, her small frame against the older women's.

Her green eyes met y/n's gaze which only confirmed what y/n feared. "That's it? You aren't going to say anything?" Y/N spokes as she grabbed a suitcase from the closet.

"I'm so sick of Wanda! Don't think I didn't see all the ways she touched you. Her hands always on you whenever the two of you were together. I'll tell you this Natasha. I'd rather burn my whole life down, Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'" Y/N threw her arms up in protest and huffed.

"Where are you gonna go." Natasha spoke dismmisingly. She doesn't think you'll actually do it. You have no where to go, no one to go to. Her eyes watering at the slight chance that you may be serious.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Natasha had an award dinner and she asked you last minute to come. It was odd she didn't ask you earlier in advance because they usually know about these things at least 6 months in advance with scheduling and whatnot. But you didn't think much of it. Because you didn't want to accept the alternative.

You came as her date but it sure didn't feel like it. You were the youngest there, all the avengers were at least 10 years ahead of you. It didn't help that your girlfriend left you to fend for yourself, your eyes stuck on her and Wanda. Natasha threw her head back, laughing. Wanda's hand on her shoulder. Their prolonging eye contact. The way they looked at each other. It gave you a bad feeling in your gut but you pushed it away.

No, I'm not coming to my senses. I know it's crazy. But he's the one I want.

You refused to accept it. She said she'd never let it come between you guys. That your age difference would never break you up. She lied. You rose up from the table but no one even noticed, everyone engrossed in their conversation. A stray tear fell from your glassy eyes.

You made your way to the bathroom. Attempting to keep your composure, they already think you're immature, you don't want them to see you as a baby on top on that.

You looked at yourself in the large glass window. You looked at your reflection. Your dress glistened in the light. The door swings open. It's Wanda. Of course she was the one who noticed you missing. Ironic isn't it.

"Y/N" she spoke, her voice filled with fake concern but a hint of guilt. You refused to meet her eyes, not willing to give her that sense of comfort. "Y/N, I'm not going to lie to you just because you're younger than us. I like Natasha. And honestly it feels like she is into me too. There's nothing I can say to make you feel better but I assure you I would never make a move on her while the two of you are together. I promise." Her eyes met yours in the mirror.

"I have money, I know you don't have anywhere to go but if you and Natasha should split, please call me. I don't want to on your own, fending for yourself. I can help you get an apartment or something." Wanda offered.

I just learned these people try and save you'. Cause they hate you

Of course, of course she wants to "take care of you". Because you're the little fragile thing who can't handle heartbreak. She just wants to make a move on Natasha, this is a ton of bullshit. You press your nails into your hand. You smile politely and say a simple thank you. Not wanting to cause a scene and give Natasha more of a reason to leave you.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me. And counteract the chemistry. And undo the destiny.

Her hand reaches for my shoulder, to stop me from leaving. "That won't work anymore, Natasha. I'm calling Wanda. She offered to help me get an apartment." You spewed out, reaching for the door. It hurt. You no longer called her Natty, the sweet nickname you had gave her when your relationship was in an earlier stage. A simpler stage where you didn't have to question if she wanted to be with you.

You slammed the door behind you, goodbye Natasha.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 17: The Winds of War

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 2.8k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ It is too easy for broken hearts to declare war.

Aemond had never felt more conflicted in his life. 

There was scarce ever a time when there were multiple emotions that hit him at once. He was not used to feeling so much in such a short period, it had made him begin to act unlike himself. Though, that was not entirely a bad thing.

Only a few instances in the two millennia of his life had he ever felt so overwhelmed.

The first time was the death of his father. They were never close, but he could recall moments, during the brief periods of his father’s lucidity, when the two of them would sit silently together as they poured through history books. The old king's death did not come as a surprise, but it was crushing regardless. 

The second time he had been overwhelmed was just shortly after his father's death. His mother quickly died. Elf marriages wound the bond between two souls so tightly that when one dies the other follows. He was more angry then. Aemond had been closer to her. The only bit he had of his fond childhood memories was connected to the scent of those azures that she loved so much. 

There was not so much emotion when he beat Aegon in a duel and became king – that felt more natural to him. 

The third time was when he lost his eye. The pain, wrath, betrayal, and heartbreak were too much for him. After it all, when his vision dimmed to one, it tore out the rest of his heart to kill Prince Lucerys for it. The deed had to be done, there was no other way, but Aemond still cursed himself until the ends of the earth for it. He had been like a brother, a chosen brother, but all failed. 

The war had, like being crowned king, not overwhelmed him. At that point, his heart cared little. 

The fourth and final time he experienced such a myriad of emotions at once was when he made the off-hand decision to welcome a human into his kingdom. A human who had so easily ripped down his very being to expose nothing but the scarred essence of his self. Aemond had resisted at first. It was true – he had cared little. Yet, that sentiment did not last long. It was like his brain punished him at every hour. 

Everything was just her. 

Her,

Her,

Her, 

Was it his hubris that caused the gods to send such a siren? Or was it the cruelty he inflicted on the word? There could be no other explanation for her presence in his life. The gods sent her there to punish him. A thorn wedged in his side, but springed forth a rose that smelled as sweet as she treated the people around her. 

That was what did it, what caused him to fall so effortlessly.

Her unflagging efforts to help. 

Not for any selfish reason, nor any reward. The simple act of kindness gave her satisfaction. As if nothing else mattered in the world. She was determined and stubborn – a bit like himself. Though truly she felt like a foil,  an opposite that brought out something better in Aemond.

He tried to reach inside himself and uncover what she had brought out of him, truly, but it was a struggle at first. 

It had been so long since he had to treat someone that gently, it was foreign to him. All he had to do to relearn kindness was simply watch her. Watch as she tended to her patients so skilfully and passionately, watch as she bonded with Daeron over healing, watch as she spent time with Helaena and encouraged her passions, watch as she brought out a better side to Aegon; one a little more sober that before. 

How could such a being simply be so good?

Humans had caused Aemond nothing but pain in his life. They took his eye, attempted to burn his lands down, and hurt his family beyond anything. Yet, this human – who had miraculously stumbled across his sister one day, hurt and in need – had been able to do what he never thought possible. 

She had caused his heart to beat. 

That was what it felt like. Each time he thought of her, frequently as of late, his heart would beat faster. It was like some kind of locator, the closer she was the faster those thumps came. It breathed new life into his body. 

Aemond was not naive, at least, not anymore. He knew what this meant and why his body reacted the way it did. He loved her, simply and truly. Elves felt more intensely than humans, so it was easier for them to get so strung up in care. It was his kind's greatest strength and greatest downfall. Quick to love, quick to hate. 

That was why it hurt so profoundly when she hurled such accusations at him; called him a liar and implied his good friend Cole had killed her father. It was harsher than any blow on the battlefield. He had welcomed her into his home, and let her have access to his library, all on the words of his sister and this was how she repaid him? He was angry but understood. 

There had to have been a reason for her conclusion. She was not hysterical or had a penchant for making up lies. Something had come up or was discovered for her to act that way. She was still in mourning over Lyra so anything could have set her off. 

Aemond had decided to leave so the both of them could cool off and get their thoughts in order. He would listen to her concerns and address them. However, when he went to her room to visit she was not there. That itself was not unusual, so it did not set off any unease in his mind. She was likely in the laboratory and working tirelessly in her pursuit of a cure. Her recent experiment with Daeron had been a damn close solution and Aemond felt nothing but pride swell in his chest when thinking back on it.

He approached the laboratory door but knew not to barge in. If she was focused, he could not bear to ruin that. He was already on thin ice with her trust. There was nothing in the realm that would make him break it further. He knocked on the engraved wood and waited. 

There was no response. 

Again, that was not unusual. However, when he knocked again with a little more force to make sure he was heard, Aemond was surprised by the slow creaking it made as it opened. The door was ajar, which was unusual. His fingers gripped the handle and he pushed it open. His gaze was lowered and noticed the strewn about papers at first. His brow furrowed as he scanned the area further until… 

Gods no… 

Faster than Aemond knew he could move, he flung towards her body that lay bloody and limp on the stone floor. His heart sank with his body. He assessed her and quickly found an open wound on her side. Aemond had flung off his leather doublet and torn off a sizable chunk from his white shirt to try and cover the wound – as if it would make a difference. He was frantic, scrambling to staunch the wound as he kneeled.

Aemond lifted her limp body with his other arm having wrapped it around the back of her neck. Her head was limp and swivelled to the side, a sight that made him feel sick. His eye searched the room for any immediate threats but found none. He looked back down at her closed eyes. Aemond was too shaken to focus and see if she was breathing or if it had been a trick of the mind. 

He muttered her name a few times like it was some sort of prayer; a plea to anything out there that could hear. Quickly, he released his hold on the wound and brushed her cheek, leaving a trail of blood. He went back to putting pressure on the wound, but truthfully it did not look good. Aemond was not shy of wounds. He had seen countless different ways the body could bleed out – this was one of them. 

“But I came to say sorry…” Aemond whispered. Water gathered at the rim of his eyes. What surprised him the most was that he felt the same tingling sensation on the scarred lining of his other eye. He did not know it was possible, but here he was; nearly weeping over the body of a human. 

Aemond noticed her arm was outstretched and went to move it closer to her body. Surprisingly, he saw something sticking out of her closed fists. He moved the arm that was holding her neck out from under after leaning her head on his thigh. Aemond opened her fist and took out the crumpled piece of parchment. 

Mothers flower. 

Lake water. 

Every little thing.

The last one was underlined multiple times for emphasis. It was her writing, but he could not understand the reason for it. On the table, he saw a myriad of scattered ingredients and an overboiling cauldron. The smell emanating from it was burnt and he could tell she had been brewing something. He looked back down at the parchment and it all came to him. 

His little rūklon had done it.

She had found what very likely could be a cure, but something had taken her from him. He shouted for the guards or any possible person who could hear.

The feeling of hopelessness had morphed into rage. Someone had done this to her; someone who would surely pay the price. 

Hurried footsteps sounded from the door Aemond had left open. In just a short moment, he watched Cole come in. His face morphed into shock at the sight. Aemond had never been more thankful that Cole had been in the area. He needed his friend. 

The other door located on the opposite side of the room burst open. Daeron and Aegon had been in the sick hall but came immediately when they heard the noise. While Aegon had froze at the sight, Daeron sprung into action. He dashed to his brother and fell to his knees to assess the damage. 

“What in the seven hells happened?” Daeron asked.

“I found her like this. Why aren't there any guards around?” Aemond directed his last question at Cole with a fire behind his voice. 

“Early morning is when the night shift switches, my king, there are little guards at this time,” Cole answered. Aemond shook his head before looking back at the woman in his arms. That was not a good enough answer. 

“Daeron?” Aemond voiced. It was clear what he was asking. He needed to know if there was a chance to save her. 

Daeron gave his brother a grim look, “I don’t know.” Those words were like a dagger to Aemond’s heart. Aegon had gathered a bunch of supplies from around the room and dumped them by Daeron so he could start assessing the wound more. 

“My king,” Cole spoke out and Aemond turned to him, “I found these.” He had a scrap of fabric in one hand and a bloodied knife in the other. It was easy to see that the colours of the fabric were part of the emblem of the human kingdom. 

“They must have heard of our efforts to find a cure and snuck in to foil them. The council's suspicion of it being human-made could be correct. She happened to have the misfortune of being here.” Cole theorized. Both Daeron and Aemond were struck by it. Aegon, however, looked at Cole with underlying skepticism. 

“Convenient that you found such an important piece of evidence that was not spotted by us when we came in,” Aegon spoke up while he took over the hold on her wound so Aemond could go see the items. Aegon’s words went unnoticed in Daeron’s attempt to focus on the problem in front of him. 

“It’s laced with taint.” Aemond had taken the knife to inspect it and his voice sounded far away, as if caught in the trouble of wondering if what he said was true. 

“This is a direct attack on our kingdom, your grace. They have gone beyond a violation of the peace treaty.” Cole informed, “We must respond.” 

Aemond did not acknowledge Cole’s words at first, instead choosing to speak to Daeron, “You can heal her wound, right?” 

“I can try,” Daeron looked around the room for any kind of supplies that could help, “But the taint…”

“Then use the previous experiment to halt its spread,” Aemond argued. His anger increased as Daeron spoke. He felt that his brother was giving up on her, but that was not the truth. However, he was so overwhelmed he could not think clearly. 

“The last of the brew was used up on new patients. Even if I were to make more… it would take too long. Aemond, the wound is deep, the taint may have reached her heart already.” Daeron’s words were grim and he had been reluctant to voice them, as if speaking them would make it come true. 

“You will try regardless. Get every fucking healer to work on it.” Aemond commanded. He had never used his kingly voice with Daeron before. It was something Aemond did not wish to do, to command his family as such, but all of his care had gone with her. 

“Cole,” Aemond started, “Send for all of our legions to gather at the border. We ready for war. Send some to gather taint samples as well. They used it on her, so we shall use it on them.” Cole nodded at his king's words and made his way to leave the room. 

As Cole reached the threshold, Aemond spoke again, “I want whoever did this brought directly to me.” Cole hesitated for a moment to really look at Aemond, but eventually nodded and left. With Cole gone, Aemond moved to his brother and presented the parchment that had been in her hand. 

“She was holding this. I assume it may be concerning a cure. Get some healers to work on it as well.” Aemond instructed. Daeron took the parchment and looked over it. 

“I don’t completely understand,” Daeron scrunched his brows at the vague messaging in her scrawl. 

“Elf azure and Lake Rosemagne water,” Aemond clarified. A light behind Daeron’s eyes sparked and it seemed as though he clued in to exactly what she had figured out. 

Once seeing that she was in relatively good hands, Aemond made the prowl for the door to start the familiar habit of plotting war. When he reached the exit, he paused and turned around. His gaze hovered over her still body while his chest rose up and down almost erratically. Both of his brothers could see the emotion flicker over Aemond’s face. They understood her meaning to him and mourned what could have been. 

Without any further words, Aemond stormed out of the room. Daeron got to work quickly and commanded Aegon to help him pick her up. Together, the two elves moved her body into the sick hall and to a private, curtained area. Daeron had yelled at some of the nearby healers, something which he had never done, and commanded them to start brewing both the slowing elixir and a few side brews of the newly modified recipe.

He hoped that the slowing elixir could be administered in time so if the modified version ended up not curing it, the very least would be that the taint would not further damage her body as it recovered from the stab wound. 

However, Daeron would be lying to himself if he said there was a guarantee of healing the wound. It was so deep and human bodies were a lot weaker than elf ones. Aegon, on the other hand, was doing surprisingly well in hiding his fear. He shook just a little but followed his brother's directions to clean the wound. 

Daeron leaned down to put his head against her chest. He was searching for a heartbeat, but could not find one. He then moved to hold her wrist. He waited a few moments. As if a miracle had happened, there was the faintest of thrumming. It came slow and was weak, but it was there nonetheless. Daeron let out a breath he had been holding and nodded to Aegon. 

Aegon understood and tears welled in his eyes and he sighed with relief. Daeron then organized the supplies on a table beside him that was meant for stitching the wood. Despite his lengthy experience as a healer, he had never treated someone he was close with and had an incredible personal investment in their survival. 

As he moved his shaking hands towards the wound, Aegon’s own hands covered them, “You’ve done this countless times, what’s one more?” 

“I can do it.” Daeron’s words were more for his own sake than for Aegon’s; though both needed the reassurance. 

Together, both the brothers provided comfort in their presence while they set about the task of saving a human from near death.

On the opposite side of the castle, the king prepared for war.

Chapter 18: Past, Present, and Future Preview

It was then that it struck you that where you were was a memory – not the present. You could not remember the present. 

Why could you not remember the present? 

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[literaryavenger]

Heartbroken

Summary: Tony helps you through your first heartbreak.

Pairing: Dad!Tony Stark x Daughter!female!reader

Warnings: Fluff. Language cause why not. Reader is hurting. Tony is an angel. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I wanted some soft dad Tony and this came out. The end is a little rushed, I didn't know where I wanted it to go but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

You exited the elevator and made your way through the living room, not sparing anybody a second glance.

You went straight to your room and slammed the door behind you, leaving all of the avengers that were currently in the living room in a shocked silence.

That wasn’t like you.

You're a cheery and positive teenager that never misses a chance to hang out with your favorite group of superheroes.

Even during your bad days, you at least said hi and chat a bit before going to your room, so your behavior today as you came home from school leaves everyone worried.

They all know high school isn't easy, but it somehow never affected you much.

Maybe because you grew up in the spotlight, being a Stark.

You were the perfect combination of Pepper and Tony, smart and driven, sarcastic and confident, sweet and supportive. Really just a ray of sunshine in everyone’s life.

Everybody at Midtown High knows who you are and every student you meet gets surprised by how nice you are to anyone that approaches you, everyone expecting you to be a stuck up bitch.

You talk to and befriend anybody who’s nice to you, but you spend most of your time with Peter, Ned and MJ.

Speaking of which, while everybody stares at the door you just disappeared through, Peter enters the room through the window, a feat that not everyone is used to yet.

"Damn it, bug boy, stop doing that!" Sam almost yells, never failing to get startled by his abrupt entrances.

"Sorry, Mr. Falcon, sir." he says sheepishly while Bucky snickers like every other time, but before they can start bickering like always, Tony addresses Peter.

"What’s wrong with my daughter, Spider-ling?" he says in a serious tone, despite the nickname he can’t seem to get tired of.

"I don’t know, Mr. Stark. She was fine during lunch, but when school ended she was nowhere to be seen. We were suppose to meet at the exit like always but she rushed home alone. That’s why I’m here, I was worried." the more Peter talks the more Tony gets worried.

It wasn’t like you to not show up to do something you planned to do with someone else, let alone without giving a reason or at least a warning first.

Tony has heard enough so he gets up from his seat and walks towards your room, knocking twice, then once and then three times fast, a secret knock you came up with when you were little designed just for him.

He hears a faint ‘come in’ and, with furrowed eyebrows, he enters your room, finding you sitting on the bed hugging your knees to your chest.

Without saying a word he comes in, shuts the door and sits next to you, putting an arm around your shoulders. You shift to put your head in his chest and, when hug him as tightly as you can, Tony can actually feel his own heart breaking at the sight.

His little ray of sunshine, crying her heart and soul out and there's nothing more he can do but hold you. So he holds onto you just as tight as you are, willing himself not to let his own tears fall at seeing you so broken, needing to be strong for you.

After you calm down a bit, he can’t help himself as he asks "who do I have to kill?"

He feel a little better when he hears your little giggle against his chest, but he's still very worried and you both know he wasn’t entirely kidding.

He doesn’t rush you into talking, giving you time to put together your thoughts before starting to explain.

"I’ve been seeing someone..." you start, sitting up straight, sniffling, and he already doesn't like where this is going. "I’m sorry I haven’t said anything, mom knows though…"

"Of course she does." he mumbles, a little offended you would tell her and not him, and Tony Stark was never one to not voice his thoughts. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he was clearly hurt, pouting a bit just to amuse you. You giggle again as you answer.

"I’m sorry, but I know what you would’ve said: ‘You’re not allowed to date until you’re 65’" you try to imitate him with a deep voice that makes him chuckle.

"Damn right you can’t!" He says and you lighten up a little at his laughter and keep talking.

"I was going to introduce you soon, I swear! But then…" your smile falls and you can’t stop the few tears that escape. "Today, while I was waiting on Peter, I saw him…"

You trail off and he holds your hand giving you an encouraging squeeze but still not pushing you. Then, in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, you finish your sentence. "He was kissing another girl…"

He wished you hadn’t finished the sentence. You start crying again, quieter than before, but it still broke Tony’s heart.

"Oh, honey…" He wraps his arms around you again, mentally planning how to kill and dispose of the body of the little prick, when he hears you again, your voice barely a whisper.

"It hurts, dad… why does it hurt so much?" you still couldn’t stop crying, barely able to finish the sentence.

"I know, Tinkerbell." The use of your childhood nickname made you smile against the tears, the memory of how it came to be coming to the forefront of your mind.

You were about 6 years old, watching Peter Pan for the first time with your parents, when you started giggling uncontrollably.

Your parents gave you a funny look, expecting you to be sad at the part where Tinkerbell was dying and worried they were raising a little psychopath.

"What are you laughing at, Junior?" much to Pepper’s displeasure Tony had started calling you that, sustaining that you were turning out to be just like a little version of him.

Your mom disagreed, but was slowly changing her mind, especially after what little six year old you said next.

"Daddy’s just like Tinkerbell: if she doesn’t get attention he dies!" you got out between giggles, making Pepper almost double over laughing as Tony started a tickle attack, a fake offended look on his face.

After that your dad started calling you Tinkerbell, not able to let go of your first sarcastic comment, against him of all people, but secretly very proud.

You were brought back to the present by your dad’s words as he started rubbing your back. 

"I know it hurts now, but it’s gonna get better, I promise. Your first heartbreak is never easy, but the good news is you have your whole life ahead of you to find a guy smart enough to understand how lucky he is to be loved by you and never let you go."

Now, Tony Stark is many things.

He’s a genius, billionaire, former playboy and philanthropist. He’s an entrepreneur, a superhero, a savior. He’s a role model, a caring friend and doting husband.

But, at this very moment, you can’t help but be proud to call him your father.

You wish you could tell him that at the moment, but you can’t find the voice to speak so you make a mental note to tell him later. Right now all you can do is hug him so tight you’re not entirely sure he’s able to breathe, but he doesn’t make any attempts to make you let go.

The next couple of hours are spent between hugs, words of encouragement and Tony trying everything he can to make you laugh.

When he succeeds in lifting your spirits, you both make your way to the living room where all of the Avengers are now, Pepper included. You sit next to her and she wraps her arm around you, having already been updated on the situation, of course.

Everyone else seemed to have come to a mutual understanding of not pressing the matter, knowing you’ll open up when you’re ready and not wanting to upset you again now that you’re back to your cheery self.

You’re glad nobody’s asking any questions, acting like nothing happened, exactly what you need right now.

You spend the rest of the day with your family, forgetting all about your broken heart, realizing you’re better off without him.

At one point your dad whispers to you "I still need the name of the little jerk, so I can fuck him up" and you can’t help but laugh, more glad than ever to be lucky enough to be a Stark.

[kyouka-supremacy]

The thing that shook me the most about the last chapter to the point I haven't been able to talk about it until now is Atsushi's portrayal. It's so deeply devastating in the pure desperation he's depicted having. But what makes it so specifically heartbreaking is how his character is being destroyed to his core, to his main theme and distinctive traits. Atsushi wants to live; it's been there from the beginning. It's arguably what moves every of his actions. From the second page of chapter one, Atsushi has consistently been represented as a character desperate to prove he's worthy of living.

And now... He can't take it anymore. He's completely offering himself to Dostoyevsky with no care of what that means for his life. Dostoyevsky offers him five minutes to think about it, and Atsushi doesn't hesitate a second– that really emphasizes his apprehension, his sheer desperation. He's begging Dostoyevsky to kill him, because he can't keep going anymore. And it's devastating. It's heart-shattering to see Atsushi having gone though such a great grief, he's not himself anymore.

And the thing is, there's even more to that crushing - both psychologically and thematically - Atsushi's character. Dostoyevsky assigns Atsushi the responsibility of his friends' deaths due to his inability to protect them. Do you understand what that means for him? Atsushi, who had once come to the conclusion that he could gain his right to live by saving other people, is now facing his own failure to protect the people dearest to him. Of course he would find his life empty of any reason to keep existing after that.

Not to mention Atsushi's complicated relationship with his ability. After hating it for so long and wishing it'd disappear, with Dead Apple he seemed to finally have come to terms with it; if only, now again his ability is the cause of him to be separated from all the others, the cause of him being left alone which is what Atsushi fears the most. In all honestly, the true miracle of this chapter was Atsushi being able to smile at the end of it. It's very moving to see Akutagawa - although he doesn't remember him, although he doesn't know who he is - giving him hope again even after all of this.

[igotanidea]

(5) Cheater: Dick Grayson x reader

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

A/N: bit of a filler, but I promise we'll get more action in the next part, so deal with me here guys XD

***

„Is it done?”

„Yes. Yes, it’s fucking done. Hope you are fucking happy.”

“You don’t see the bigger picture now and-“

“Fuck the bigger picture! And fuck you! I hurt two people because of your stupid plan!”

“Be careful with how you talk to me.”

“I’m talking to you exactly the way I should!”

“You act like a moody teenager. All that rebellious attitude and for what? In the end, for obvious reasons you are going to do what I tell you.”

They both knew that was true. But it did not lessen the pain of what happened merely hours ago.

***

There was no way in hell Y/N was going to forgive him. Ever.

He did the unspeakable. Promised her his love and then took it away to another woman. The women he allegedly had no ties with.

So it not only made him a cheater but also a liar.

And all of that right after she had the most amazing intimate experience of her life.

The second she fled his and Sienna’s apartment and found herself in her own four walls, Y/n made a promise to herself to tear it from her mind. However, it seemed like her body had quite a different plan.

For some reason everything felt different. Her skin. Her belly, her breasts, her legs, her—.

No, no, no…

They say you always remember your first time. That it tends to haunt you and everything that follows is forever tainted with the way you’ve been treated then.

For Y/N it felt like the memory of Dick’s tender touch, gentle movements and passionate kisses would forever be overshadowed by the heartbreak that came right after.

So he made her a woman by both taking and breaking her.  

***

While Y/N took the easy, if not cowardly way out, Dick and Sienna were rooted to the ground watching each other in the silence that was deafening.

What now?

Who was supposed to say something first?

And say what?

What words could possibly mitigate the situation?

The truth?

He couldn’t tell Sienna that it was all fake, that he never did and still does not love her. Enough damage has been done. Besides, there was also “the plan”. The great fucking batman plan to get to that stupid villain and prevent harming people.

Dick has already sacrificed so much for “the plan”. Losing Y/N. Causing her pain. Making her believe like he didn’t care. That he just wanted to get her to bed, fuck and toss her away. It truly should have been Jason to get assigned to this mission. He would just barge inside, force information out and kill whoever needed to be killed.

Boom! Mission completed with no girls with broken hearts.

But no.

Instead it was Dick with his conscience stained. Watching the woman he loved running away with tears and the woman he was using with a blank face expression.

“Sienna…” he started with a shaky voice, taking one step forward, expecting her to start screaming or pull back and move out of his reach. But she didn’t.

“Are you done now?”

“Done?” He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You had your fun?” the woman asked and much to Dick’s shock there was not much anger in her voice.

“I—um. What? Aren’t you mad?” It was most probably idiotic to ask her that, but Sienna’s casual approach to the situation was quite disturbing and the words left his mouth before he could think them through.

‘Mad?” she looked at him with wide eyes. “No. No I’m not mad, baby. A little disappointed maybe. But not mad. I mean, you were just lonely, right?”

“Um—.” What the hell was happening here!?

“Come on. Y/N is a wonderful person, but she also seems lonely so—”

“You were wrestling with her minutes ago!” Dick exclaimed. Now it started to feel like he was functioning in a different reality. The one where everything was abstract, the sequence of events made zero sense and women were strangely  understanding when it came to sleeping with someone else. But it could also mean that in that reality he had a chance of having Y/N forgive him, because clearly logic was non-applicable.

“Sure. Can’t have her thinking like she can just barge in and take what’s mine.” Sienna stepped forward, smiling sadly “but right now, she’s the one gone and you’re here with me. So it’s what speaks volumes about who you love.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, looking down, his hands shaking, heart racing.

“I’m still hurt though… After all, you slept with another girl while thinking I was away.”

As much as he wanted to tell her to shove her hurt up her ass, he couldn’t. And this time it was not only because of the plan, but also because Sienna deserved better from him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered earnestly. He was sorry for the entire mess up, but not sorry for taking things further with Y/N.

“I know.”

“What can I do--?”

“I don’t know. Not yet. But I do want us to work through it. Okay?” The woman smiled softly, giving him the vulnerable look that always softened him, no matter if it was a girl, child or stray cat.

“Okay…” He promised, pulling Sienna to his chest, feeling her arms wrap around him, hating his life, Nightwing, Batman and everything In between.

***

He stayed home that night. Purposefully putting his phone on silent mode, giving no shit about whatever Bruce might want from him and he was now probably planning next steps of putting the mission to the end.

He stayed with Sienna.

Laying on his side of the bed in the darkness with a broken heart.

***

His arms were around her, but Sienna knew that his heart was aching for Y/N.

She could have had him next to her, she could have him staying instead of chasing after the other, but she didn’t have his heart. It was forever out of her reach.

But that was something she could live with. Sacrificing her dignity and self-esteem as long as he was physically here. And while she was in deep emotional pain, she was going to endure.

Laying on her side of the bed in the darkness with a broken heart.

She had to.

***

Y/N was tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Emotions clouding her judgment making her unsure whether she was the victim or the culprit. Or maybe both. She never should have believed him. She never should have done this to another girl. And to herself. 

She only had herself to blame.

Laying on her side of the bed in the darkness with a broken heart.

***

“Now that we made them break—”

“You are a monster, you know that?”

“Even a monster has his reasons for doing things. Or should I remind you what’s on stake here?”

“No. No you don’t have to…”

“Good. So you listen carefully, because your input is crucial in putting this thing to an end. You are going to go on a date that will be the final piece in the puzzle. Then you’ll be free.”

“Yeah… free… right after ruining everything…”

To be continued.

@miraculous-panic @fullbelieverheart @xlatinaaxx @ietss @arfrona

@gracescor3 @jaysgirlx

[animeyanderelover]

This is my second ask

What would Hyuuga Natsuhiko, Minamoto Teru, Wei Liu, Tatsuya Himuro, Reo Mibuchi, Yuuma Isogai, Nagisa Shiota, Tadaomi Karasuma, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko, and Tachihara Shunzen( the older brother) with a darling that is nice to everyone else but politely declines to interact with them. Ik there are a lot of characters but could you make it a bit suggestive at the end like when the reader is confronted it's past their breaking point so they aren't down for excuses, it's fine if not! Ty!!

I genuinely think that you are the first person who named me so many characters I have never written for before in one request. Not that you'll see me complaining though.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, clinginess, manipulation, threats, guilt-tripping,jealousy, violence,abduction, suggestive themes at the end of some of those

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78

Avoidance

Liu Wei

🟣​Surely there must be a massive misunderstanding somewhere, although Liu struggles to decipher what it is that has caused such a rift between the two of you before he even had the chance to get to know you better. It is most misunfortunate, especially since the tall boy is not oblivious to his rapidly expanding feelings for you. Perhaps he has done something to offend you, unintentionally that is due to his lack of knowledge about Japan, or maybe you are just freaked out because of his height. All those excuses are immediately accepted in his mind yet a glaringly obvious thing never once seems to cross his mind. That maybe, just maybe, it is his highly unsettling behavior that has left a lingering bad impression and his refusal to back down only proves that point further. There is no escape from those dark eyes that always spot you no matter what you do or where you try to hide, his height only giving him a bigger advantage to easily find you. There is no escape from him either as you constantly find him trailing after you with that apathetic look on his face and it is quite frightening that he isn't even attempting to defend his actions, his gaze locked on your when you glance at him in disbelief and fear.

🟣​His feelings are no secret to Liu but whether he recognises them to be anything potentially obsessive is an entire new chapter after all. In that matter the exchange student finds himself in a rather delusional mindset after all. All is still new for him in this country after all and his feelings fall into the same category, as something new he has to learn and to discover. Gullible as always, he follows the few advices he has gotten from his teammates and parents in multiple attempts to get closer to you and to get to know you better. He follows you around, his eyes constantly try to meet yours and he approaches you whenever he can yet his naivete is abused over and over again as you always decline everything politely and come up with a reasonable excuse on the spot, one he accepts. For a while this seems to work but it doesn't take long for the bitterness to fester inside of him. Dark eyes condemn the people you keep around you as the green-eyed monster known as jealousy awakens inside of him. He doesn't understand what it is they do right that he doesn't and never one to hold back, he finds himself approaching those people boldly and bluntly asking them what it is that they do that he doesn't.

🟣​He scares your friends and you know about that yet he clearly doesn't feel a thing. He just wishes you would notice his dedication and earnestness as he tries everything he is told to break the wall between the two of you yet you only pull further and further away from you. The festering feeling only continues growing as he notices how you avoid him, a mixture of continuous heartbreak and flaring frustration spurring his darker instincts on. It may not show on his face as he wears a very neutral expression most of the time but he vents the bitterness out on people around him and your close friends and acquaintances are often on the receiving end of that developing temper of his. It is highly unpleasant as they find themselves as constant victims of his cold glares and harsh words as he expresses his dissatisfaction with the situation at hand. He hates this all, if he has to be very blunt. All he wants is to get to know you better yet you brush him aside every single time and he doesn't even know what it is he has done wrong in the first place. You have to tell him. How is he supposed to know what he is doing wrong? He is in a country that isn't his home and those feelings are new for him too.

🟣​You feel rather anxious when you leave school only to find Liu following you one day, not even bothering to hide it. No matter how much you increase your pace, his large steps easily catch up and from the corner of your eyes you can see how he gets closer and closer to you. A huge hand grabs your shoulders and forces you to stop as his deadpan voice asks you if you could give him a moment. There is a growing unease on your mind, your eyes darting around as you try to come up with an excuse yet he cuts you off bluntly, his gaze heavy on your form as he tells you that he will only need a few minutes. Your heart can only pound against your chest as you inspect him warily. There is nothing that could have prepared you for the unexpected horror seeping through you when his lips suddenly smash against yours, his other hand seizing your nape to push your mouth against his own. Dreadful seconds pass before he finally releases you and admits his feelings to you, seemingly unfazed by the forceful kiss he just submitted you to. His eyes are filled with dark determination as he informs you that he intends to be much more direct with his feelings for you from now on.

Himuro Tatsuya

◾️Himuro has had his eyes on you for a while now, long enough to recognise that there is definitely a real interest he has in you. The handsome boy is quite observant of his own feelings though so he will have it figured out soon that an interest is quite understating what is going on in his heart right now. Tatsuya hides his obsession smoothly though as no one would suspect anything. His self-control doesn't mean that he plans to give you up though as he plans to court you and win you over for himself, whether it is because or in spite of his obsession is a blurry line though. The attitude he is met with when he approaches you is rather disheartening though. Tatsuya has observed you for a longer while now and he has observed you long enough to notice the inconsistency in your behavior around him in comparison to other people. You have always been a very kind and open-hearted person but it is glaringly obvious that you choose to avoid him as you always have a polite excuse in store when he is the one who asks for your time. There is a distance you wish to uphold between him and you and whilst it hurts Himuro, he initially tries to see what it is that may have triggered this.

◾️Maybe it is his popularity that has led you to see the need to not interact with him as you may think of him as insincere and a playboy or simply fear potential jealousy that his fangirls may direct at you. If that should be true, he is more than determined to prove you wrong. Aware that he shouldn't be too pushy in order to not come over as desperate nor annoying though, he goes for a more subtle approach. You are always among the first people he greets when he sees you and there are always things like your favorite snacks or drinks he brings with him occasionally to give them to you, especially if it's a rather hot day will he act like your personal vending machine. As a member of the Student Council he always keeps you informed about current updates and often likes to ask for your opinion on subjects, even taking them into consideration. There is a cunning air to it all though as you find yourself being more involved with him, especially when he starts socialising more with classmates and friends of yours. Himuro knows what he is doing though as he spies on you by befriending your own friends, treating them secretly more as a mean to achieve his goal quicker.

◾️There is a sleeping monster made out of envy and insecurity hiding behind his poker face though, one that grows quite restless the more time passes. Anyone else would have already fallen for him or would have at least shown some signs of attraction yet you are still as fleeting as the day he first met you. What is he doing wrong? Nothing, he includes after a good while of self-reflecting. He has done nothing that could have roused your suspicion or that could have made you feel uncomfortable around him. He has always been only helpful and kind to you. With this possibility out of the way, his mind drifts towards another one that has him instantly on edge. Perhaps he hasn't enough for you. It is this idea that fills him with growing jealousy as a bitterness he has always had against naturally talented people appears. He starts cracking and you see that on the day he catches you with Murasakibara, chatting in a carefree manner. You've never done that with him. The shock on your face is evident when he storms over, his normally stoic expression twisted by hurt and anger that he barely manages to swallow down when he reaches you two and separates you two, his heart poisoned.

◾️It is irrational jealousy that leads you into the unfortunate situation of being indirectly betrayed by your own friends whose assistance he requests and they fall easily for his charm as they help to set you two up, unaware of what is about to occur. There are cracks on the surface as his eyes contrast his usual poker face, the growing anger and jealousy almost palpable. It is the very moment you dare to voice yet another excuse that finally makes the thread snap and all the bitterness and anger erupts, clearly visible on his face. His frustration and resentfulness is audible as he asks you what it is that he would have to do to be finally worthy of your time, eyes ablaze as he stares at you. As soon as you take one step back, he takes one forward until you find yourself pressed against the wall. There are tears in your eyes yet he is far too caught up in his own pain to care too much. You don't even get another chance to beg him to let you go as the moment your lips part, he instantly silences you with an impulsive kiss, hands pushing you harder against the wall as he presses himself against your body in a desperate manner, only pulling away when he tastes salty tears, whether they are yours or his he does not know.

Mibuchi Reo

🌃​Mibuchi Reo is a rather interesting case as he is simultanously rather uptight yet also quite open about his feelings. Affectionate with the nicknames he chooses to call you by and the infatuated glances he gives you, the moment people like Hayama even dare to point it out to him, Mibuchi becomes rather displeased and quickly starts chastising him with an annoyed glare on his face. He isn't one to deny his own feelings of course but he is rather sensitive when other people point it out to him, especially those he knows would only give him a headache. You see, he is a rather possessive man who would like to hoard you for himself without people constantly interfering and pointing the obvious out. This is only further amplified when he comes to realise that you are quite set on the irrational decision to avoid him no matter what. Your smile is almost, but only almost, as sickenly sweet as his own when he approaches you when you are alone as he feels more inclined to be open about his affection. Very open. You leave him alone rather stunned after the first time as you hurry away without making it look like you are running away, his pointed glare adding to your nervousness.

🌃​He does not take it well at all and this is quite obvious to his teammates. He is brooding the entire time, deep in thought as a sigh escapes his lips more than once during training. Hayama and Nebuya use that chance in an attempt to get under his skin by teasing him but they get more than they asked for when normally gentle eyes stare at them creepily as he reminds them with a lopsided grin on his face that he would appreciate it if they wouldn't make fun of his personal problems since he does not appreciate it at all. They keep quiet for the rest of the training whilst he does his best to not dwell on it, at least not during practice with Akashi. He tries his luck again the next day, although much to his dismay he isn't able to catch you alone this time which is why he tones his affection significantly down, although it is still quite obvious to the untrained eye that he is rather besotted with you. Once again he finds himseld being indirectly rejected by you, this time in front of all your friends. It is a blow to his feelings as much as it is to his ego but he forces himself to not show any of his hurt feelings. Not in front of other people. It almost looks convincing if you wouldn't know better.

🌃​There is no Reo for you the next few days as he doesn't seek you out but it doesn't really ease your nerves that much. He makes an effort to act fairly normal the following days, although he really has to strain his eyes to not let his gaze wander to you and to immerse himself in sweet, little daydreams. Oh, if only you'd know how much you torment him with your rejection. You truly do not know what you are creating, do you? He can just sense the unease radiating off of you when he catches you all by yourself again, the gentleness in his eyes once again accompanied by this sweetly obsessive glimmer he only shows when he is alone with you. Your heart is pounding as you do your best to politely decline his request once again. Your skin is prickling when his smile twists into something comparable to what you'd see in a horror movie. The silence is crushing you yet he lets you bathing in it on purpose before he suddenly lifts his index finger, not dropping his grin as he stares at you. For a moment you wish he would just chastise you for rejecting him again, to say anything to ease you. You can only fret in cold sweat when he instead leaves you wordlessly as you try to figure out what his gesture just meant.

🌃​Days pass by without any incident yet it feels more akin to the calm before the dreaded storm which doesn't allow you a moment of peace. You almost feel tempted to approach Mibuchi yourself and it takes a lot of concentration to stop yourself from begging him to stop. Then he appears behind you nearly a week later and you nearly die of the heart attack you receive when his fingers tentatively grace your sides. The question he asks you in that same sweet tone that day is the same one he has already asked you before and never before have you shot him down faster, barely able to keep your tone steady as you ask him pleadingly to stop his behavior around you as you even bow your head. In hindsight you would have prepared that infatuated expression over the blank coldness on his face when you straighten your back again. You quickly bow out of the situation, or at least try to do so. His long arm reaches for you and tugs you with force back though, the unexpected surprise causing you to stumble against his back. Both of his arms tighten tighten around your form, his face suddenly in the crook of your neck as he takes deep whiffs of your scent before you feel his lips against the skin.

Shibusawa Tatsuhiko

💎​Shibusawa has long grown bored of the world and the people inside of it. Nothing surprises nor excites him anymore, his life a dull one where the only thing he can do is collect riches and gifts as a short-lived game to entertain himself with. Your existence finally breaks that gray cycle he has found himself in for years. There is a warm buzz in his heart when he indulges in thoughts of you and a pleasant shudder in his body when he gets close to you, his hands always trying to reach out for you and to touch you to feel that electrical tingle as soon as his skin connects with yours. The excessive habit of his to hoard treasure in various forms extends to you now as well as Shibusawa wishes to hoard and keep you for himself, the most valuable gem he could over possess one that lives and breathes. Obviously he is not blind to the way you always pull away from him when he wants to ask you to spend time with him, the slight discomfort hidden behind your polite exterior glaringly obvious to his trained eye. He could end it all of course as he has all the needed tools at his hands to simply whisk you away within the same hour but he refuses to use them.

💎​There is thrill in his chest after all, his heart feeling like it is beating for the first time vigorously in his chest again after years of having fallen into a sad rhythm of boredom. It would be so easy to simply take you but instead Shibusawa decides to play along with the goal to win your heart over through his own effort. He has always the choice to abduct you after all, he can effort to play around and engage in this cute game of yours. Every information he gains, he tries to figure out by himself instead of letting other people do the work. Everything feels much sweeter when he sees it with his own eyes after all instead of only reading it on a white file. His obsession truly yearns to devour everything and he throws himself at every new discovery like a starved animal and in a way his heart and soul are indeed starved. Starved for anything to fill the emptiness, an emptiness you so effortlessly mend and all that without being aware of it. Your dismissive behavior whenever he asks for your time may be a tiny bit disheartening but he is too much in love with the challenge to end everything already. There is so much to learn, so much to discover about you after all.

💎​A man of his intellect notices even small details easily, although if he is not someone you like keeping close to you. It deeply unnerves you how much he has picked up on after only a while of knowing you as he can even point out the little habits and ticks of you that you show without consciously being aware of it. The excessive knowledge you think he shouldn't have about you is a faraway cry from what he is feeling. It isn't enough. Tatsuhiko knows that there is still so much left that he doesn't know about you and with each passing day the urge to find out what he hasn't seen yet grows stronger and stronger. It is then that your polite decline every time he suggests that you two could spend some time together starts bothering him. You deprive him of something that is worth more to him than all the gold and jewels he has hoarded somewhere, prevent him from filling the gap in his heart that starts aching the moment your presence disappears. Hollow desperation claws at his chest, something Shibusawa is not used to feel at all and he does not need long before arriving at the conclusion that he does not enjoy this all-consuming emptiness he feels. Perhaps the time has finally come.

💎​You have a hard time figuring out how he even found your address when he rings one night on your door and gracefully moves his way around you before you can even think about closing the door. Your body posture is wary and ready to attack until he decides to finally confess all the grief he feels in his heart in disturbing ways as he expresses his morbid desire to strip you of all your secrets because only then will he feel whole again. Unfortunately you want to keep those secrets to yourself and as much fun as this game has been, it is time for him to collect his treasure. You're fully prepared to fight and run away but his reflexes are far too fast as he pulls out a syringe and injects something into your arm. The effects only take seconds to show as you suddenly go down on your knees, your legs losing all of their strength. He drags you to the couch and you can barely gather the strength to weakly flail around before your heaved up. His voice is soothing and calm as he tells you that the effects will disappear after a few hours, his fingers dancing over your body before suddenly starting to remove your shirt gently. A few hours is more than enough time to satiate some of his curiosity after all.

Tachihara Shunzen

���​A quiet aura and calm expression do not always have to imply that someone is doing well as sorrow and trauma come in various forms. Shunzen's pain is a parasite, one that silently feasts on his flesh on the inside whilst he pretends to be okay on the outside. War does not have winners and losers after all, it leaves everyone with either death or wounds that will never heal, whether those are physical ones or mental ones. Worst of all is that no one would truly understand the horror that has him at times still breaking out in cold sweat, not unless they saw and felt the same horrifying images he had to go through. No one deserves to go through what he went through either so Shunzen hides away the pain, allowing it to rot his flesh away from the inside. His obsession for you is only another bug eating away at him as he does the same thing he has always done since the war ended. Burrying everything that he shouldn't bother others with away somewhere deep inside. Initially it seems to work like it has always done but soon the feeling festers and cracks slowly start to appear within the wall he has carefully built. He doesn't know whether that is a good or a bad thing.

🟫Years of war have made him cautious and warily of his surroundings, have sharpened his senses and given him the ability to assess information at a quicker pace. You do not want to spend time with him for some reason but he knows that it isn't because you are a bad person. He has seen how kind and patient you are with other people, he knows how nice you are to his younger brother from the stories he always tells him about you. Knowing that though bears the question why you single him out as much as you do. Perhaps it is because you have some information about his past as a soldier, it isn't uncommon for former soldiers to end up being made into outsiders. He won't deny that he has done some terrible things but on a battlefield the kind hearts are always the first ones to die as it is either living or dying in a war and he was able to live, thanks to a little girl. He reasons with himself though as he decides to simply stay content for now by observing you and keeping an eye out for you, always alert for any danger that could happen to you at any time. Old habits are hard to shake off after all, especially when they determined whether he'd live to see another day or not.

🟫Initial humbleness to respect your choice fades away with time though as he can feel the obsession crawling around inside his chest, spreading like a virus as it robs him of his control. There is a silent demand echoing around in his head that gets harder to ignore as time passes. He deserves your kindness just as much as everyone else. No, he especially deserves it after the living hell he had to go through. He served and fought for his own country, for people like you. Doesn't he deserve more respect and kindness than that? The desperation tugging at his heartstrings is hard to ignore as those thoughts grow louder and louder inside of his head, almost deafening him at times. Fissures appear all over his heart and mind, forcing the feelings he has been trying to ignore to resurface and clawing at his crumbling walls in demand to be let out. Images flash before his eyes, his ears are ringing and every breath starts stinging as if he has just inhaled smoke. Words are unable to leave his mouth as he seeks you out, hands slightly shaking as his eyes silently beg for you to help him. He needs someone right now and his heart would never settle for anyone else than you. You pretend like you don't see him though.

🟫That's when the wall shatters and everything that has been rotting away in his heart is finally unleashed. He's drowning with each new wave that overcomes him, left alone to navigate through all of it. It doesn't have to be that way though... It shouldn't have to be. Shunzen has always been someone whose character has been almost too dainty for everything he went through but it is only on that night that you see his true self. All of emotions are worn on his face, his feelings raw and bleeding out of his eyes in form of salty tears. Cold sweat is covering every inch of his body, his eyes inspecting you with a newfound desperation as if you are the oasis in the desert. There is a familiar ringing in his ears again, every flicker of light triggering memories of explosions around him. His steps are surprisingly fast for someone who is trembling as much as he does as he reaches out for you, embracing you tightly as your words don't even reach him amongst all the other noises he hears. Guilt stirs awake inside of you only to be dimmed the moment his lips find yours in a messy kiss, his arms pressing you tightly against his body. That's when he finally finds silence within his mind and heart.

Shiota Nagisa

🐍​Nagisa is already an individual who is secretly fighting with a low self-esteem as neither his grades have ever stood out nor anything else about him. Even his own mother has expressed occasionally that she has wished for a girl but got a boy instead, although over the years his relationship with her majorly improved. It is this low opinion that has been installed into every crevice of his body that prevents him from daring to get any closer to you initially. Your kindness is what has always attracted him to you yet he fears that he might become the exception. There is no valid proof for this thesis of his but the anxiety is a chain that binds nevertheless. The blue-haired boy is always found around you but never with you. Skills he has learned from his precious sensei are used to stalk you and so skillfully that no one even notices. Nagisa blends in effortlessly, hides from your sight even if he might be closer than you would ever be comfortable to find out. He's in trees, bushes or even trailing right behind you as he enjoys your smile and your laughter from a safe distance. It is a needless torture he subjects himself willingly too though as his longing for you only grows the longer he stalks you.

🐍​It takes a lot of courage from is part and fillip from his friends before he finally decides to ask you if you would like to hang out with him. Multiple times he has found himself standing close to you only to shy away in the last moment when your gaze met his. In hindsight it would have been better for his sanity if he would have done the same again. Lots of things would have been better than seeing the look in your eyes when he asks you if you'd like to go on a date with him. The surprise, the pity and then the guilt as you already know your answer. No amount of politeness from your side could soften the blow as a heart far too fragile for someone with his skills is shattered into little pieces. There is a telling stinging in his eyes as he mumbles an apology for having bothered you before he disappears, the pain he is in in that moment indescribable. He shouldn't have expected anything else though. This was bound to happen. What was he even thinking in the first place? He is not everyone after all. Days fly by as he doesn't show himself in front of you anymore. He fears that he would break down again if you were to spot him and give him that same pitying look.

🐍​His stalking tendencies increase though as a result of avoiding you directly. It doesn't save him from the pain but it is preferable to the other option. Insecurities only heighten as he wonders every day and night what other people have that he doesn't only to beat himself down as he knows that others have always stood out more than he did. That hasn't changed even after graduating middle school. Even as he tells himself this over and over again though, the pain still stays. Jealousy has rarely been something that can be simply ignored after all as Nagisa knows what it is his heart wants. Why can't you spend some time with him? What would he have to do? He can change himself for you if you want him to! Caught up in his won desperation, he is too blinded to realise that it is this toxic mindset that only pushes you farther away from him. It is quite the dangerous game both of you are playing, although you are the one who is in the most danger. You see Nagisa cracking and crumbling, wonder if it is only your anxious imagination that sometimes catches glimpses of him as you walk around outside. A tiny part of you feels horrible but your fear is stronger than your guilt.

🐍​That is how you awake one night abruptly, you initially don't know why yourself. Much to your horror when you turn on the bedside lamp, you find Nagisa standing at the end of your bed, staring at you with a foreign gleam in those blue eyes. You want to let out a scream but you are barely able to open your lips before he's suddenly kneeling above you, one of his hands muffling the sound of your scream. Your body goes deadly rigid when you stare directly into those empty eyes, barely recognising Nagisa as it almost looks like he is a different person now. His voice is quiet yet eerily intense as he warns you to keep quiet as he removes his hand from your mouth. You barely dare to breathe when he withdraws himself from your form, your heartbeat playing a frightened melody in your chest. You're too afraid to even look at him as you gaze at your sweaty palms before his voice speaks up again. The more vulnerable and shaking tone he uses sounds much more like the person you know as he asks why you had to always ignore him. You don't get to answer though, darkness flooding your vision as he knocks you out. A pair of warm lips is the last thing you feel before passing out.

Isogai Yuma

🟤​Even when Yuma spent his time being made into an outsider during middle school, his kind and considerate nature never faded away throughout it all as he instead made new friends he still keeps in contact with years later. It is the warmhearted nature in you that attracts him to you as well as he admires you. Always honest and staying true to your feelings, you never miss out to express your own opinion and emotions clearly without losing your head. Yuma is quite content to just watch you for a while, his admiration steadily growing as he sees more and more of your heart you openly carry on your sleeves. Soon he finds himself longing for more than to just simply observe you throughout your day at work. Unlike his former blue-haired classmate though, Isogai goes through no such troubles as a low self-confidence. Instead he approaches you kindly and welcoming, acting on his wish to get to know you better and to spend more time with you. There are no signs that he is pushing anything though as he knows that he shouldn't force any more meaningful relationship on you as your consens is something he values which is why he wants to see how you feel about him.

🟤​Isogai is no fool though and soon it becomes obvious that this is getting nowhere. You never attempt to deepen the relationship between the two of you beyond the one of friendly co-workers who can chat throughout the day. Taking notice of that, Yuma decides to switch positions and to be the one who tries the first step. He asks you out when both of you are alone, realistic yet distracted by his beating heart. You can only give him an apologetic smile as you decline his offer and merely tell him that you feel flattered but do not have the time and interest to think about a serious relationship. Yuma can only do his best attempts to hide his hurt feelings but respects your decision nevertheless. Somehow he expected such a reply from you for some reasons. As much as it hurts him to admit, it is quite obvious that your interest in him has always been rather limited and you only find yourself spending that much time with him because both of you work together in the same job as often as you do. There is a clear line you have drawn though, one that doesn't want him as anything more than the acquaintance at work. A decision that isn't all that welcming in Isogai's eyes.

🟤​He has always been quite beloved with the ladies and he still is but he has never allowed himself to think of him as something better just because he looks good and has the considerate and gentle character to match his appearance. With everything that is going on involving you though, he starts wondering what exactly it is about him specifically that has you acting so uptight. After all you do not have the same problem with other people you work with or call your friends. No, it is only him and it is a terrible feeling to see how everyone is given your kindness yet he is the only one who is somehow left behind. He has been trying to get some answers from you, hasn't given up to ask you every once in a while after hoping that you have had enough time to consider and forget but your answer in its core has never changed, only the excuses you use. Something sparks within him every time you give him a new excuse to avoid him as politely as possible and it slowly alters him. No, rather it adds something that he has never felt or thought before. It is new and frightening but feeds off of his growing frustration and confusion every time another lie leaves your lips.

🟤​Yuma finds himself eventually doing something he has never done before. He actively uses your friends to his advantage to get a chance to have time with you alone as he just wishes to talk to you without running away. They are easily charmed by him and whilst a part of him feels guilty, another part of him has gotten quite relentless. The betrayal in your eyes is hard to miss when he appears whilst your friends drag you somewhere only to leave you as soon as he is there, their giggles fueling your anger as they are oblivious to the situation. Through gritted teeth you excuse yourself as you turn around with every intention to leave only to be left perplexed by his fast movements as he blocks the path before locking the door, throwing the key away. his eyes have lost part of their kind glow as he reminds you that he just wishes to talk to you. There is a tension surrounding you which differs from the normally warm aura that is always where he is. When you slowly back away from him, his hands suddenly grab your arms and panic trails up and down your spine, the air turning even more prickly, clearly out of patience by now. Sit down and calm down. He just wants to talk with you.

Karasuma Tadaoi

⬛​Karasuma has one notable weakness and that is his terrible density. Clearly he hasn't even grasped the full extent of his emotions for you yet even if he is already acting on them. His eyes are always on you the moment he enters his field of vision and he never really lets you out of his sight the moment that happens either. His entire exterior is quite tough and intimidating so under his gaze you always feel rather pressured but are too nervous to speak up. Eventually he always takes notice of your growing fear and withdraws his gaze, his eyebrows furrowed as he wonders what just overcame him to stare so indecently at you for such a long time. There is no denial that he catches himself multiple times more staring at you. As an agent, a highly respected one at that, he has a considerable amount of influence and power and partially he uses that, although he does not see the malicious intentions behind it. He likes to keep tabs on you, although you are neither a threat nor are you in any danger. Karasuma himself has a hard time understanding yet why he is doing all of that. If he had to make an accurate guess though, it would probably be that it helps him to feel more relaxed.

⬛​He isn't as ignorant to never figure it out though. Somewhere along the line is the realisation that he has feelings for you, although he must admit that the extent of those feelings is rather concerning. He keeps a distance from you after he has solved the puzzle finally, doesn't try to get involved with anything that involves you all in an attempt to rid himself of those dark urges. For the first time he is stuck in a situation where he can't do something even if he puts his mind to it though. There is shame and frustration swirling around all within him as his focus is dwindling much to his annoyance. Eventually he has to come to the realisation that nothing good will come out of all of this and that instead the most convenient way seems to do what he has been doing before, only that now he should actually try to make an effort to get to know you better. He is dressed well when he finally approaches you, his mind focused as if this were a mission. If he is hurt or surprised when you decline his offer for a shared cup of coffee together, he doesn't show it. His face doesn't give anything away and somehow that only makes you more anxious as you have no way to read him or his current thoughts and feelings.

⬛​It is quite hard for Karasuma to decipher how exactly he feels after your rejection. He wonders if it was his own fault as he has been told quite often before that he has a rather intimidating appearance and even if he is dense when it comes to love, he is rather skilled to spot the signs of anxiety and stress your body shows when you are aware that his presence is close, even if you try to be polite about it all. Pinning this down as the problem that has to be solved, Karasuma approaches everything still with the efficiency as if it would be an important mission. He determines what you like and what he can do to have you feel more at ease when around him. There is a lot of effort and even you can sense that as he tries to soften his expression when around you and rids his voice of any overly harsh tone when he talks to you. Still, your decision to not get involved deeply with him seems to stay the same and for the first time in his life he finds himself annoyed by someone else's professionalism. He knows that he has no right to force you into anything with him yet there is a growing possessive urge within him, one that only gets fueled every time you avoid him again.

⬛​When you receive an order for him as he wishes to see you in his office, your heartbeat goes almost through the roof as the tension between the two of you has been nothing short of suffocating since a longer while now. Still, orders are orders and so you find yourself sitting in his office after a while. The silence is thick enough that you could cut it with a knife if you had one as he just sits in front of you, dark eyes inspecting you whilst he lets you soak in the heavy tension. Then, out of the blue with unfiltered words, he expresses his interest in you. You nearly choke on the air. Obviously you have had suspicions of your own but you never expected Karasuma of all people to be so direct about it. The not so romantic confession is immediately followed by a request for you to be officially his. At this you find yourself in utter shock as you thought that you had made your opinion already quite clear. Even if he is your superior, you have no intention to keep quiet about this. At least those are the plans until both of his hands smother you suddenly, his gaze darker than you remembered as he corrects himself. This was no request. This was a demand.

Hyuuga Natsuhiko

🔴​Natsuhiko's motives have always been on the more dubious side as he seems to choose his sides based on the shallow reason of what interests him at the moment. This seems to align nicely with his motives for hanging out with you initially. You just happen to have caught his interest and Natsuhiko is rather persistent with his attempts to get to know you. Your declines and rejections are rather familiar to him by now as he has already asked you countless times for your time and dates yet he is always met with the same polite smile as you once again put him down. It is quite hard to determine whether to feel pity for him for being such a perpetual fool or for you as you are the one suffering from such a dense admirer of yours. It all may seem harmless at the surface but feelings have already begun to blossom in Natsuhiko's chest as his interest in you only deepens in spite of your clear demeanor that you hold no interest in him that would go any further than suggesting that both of you are something more than classmates. If it would have been anyone else, they would have probably given up by now. Natsuhiko isn't everyone else though and his obsession only pushes him to go further.

🔴​So obsessed is he in fact that your sugar-coated words of rejection do not even bother him much anymore. He desires your attention above anything else, no matter how minimal it may be. Whenever you reject him, you pay attention to him. You give him that deceptive smile that still looks beautiful even though he is aware that it isn't sincere and your gaze is focused on his. Whether you share his mindset or not, in Hyuuga's mind in those moments you belong completely to him as you never pay as much attention to him as in those moments. His heart is always beating inside his chest after such moments as he yearns for your attention again. He regularly confesses to you after that to savor that sweet moment where he is all you focus on yet unfortunately this feeling passes too fast for him to fully indulge in it. This is the main reason why he increases his clingy antics by a lot as he yearns for more attention from you. There is always a rather nonchalant air around him when he follows you around, seemingly indifferent to the fact that you can clearly see him. Even confronting him about his creepy behavior doesn't deter him the least as he instead gets excited that you look at him.

🔴​Do not think that he is oblivious. He might appear lazy at times but he isn't as stupid and sleezy as some may believe him to be. Of course he knows that his behavior would scare some and he clearly notices that it gets under your nerves too. It's just that he doesn't really care about it that much as long as you give him the attention he desires, even if it is negative one. In fact you only encourage him to keep going if you turn around as it confirms to him that he can gain your focus if he annoys you by following you around and always watching you. Despite his grander knowledge of the current situation, Natsuhiko does like daydreaming about you when he has the time, especially when he can watch you and you either ignore him or haven't noticed him yet. Just maybe there is a slice of delusion somewhere within him as he does believe that those daydreams will be reality one day. He just has to make sure that you focus on him more. Much more than you are doing now as your mind is still filled with school and other things. His mind on the other hand is clouded with everything involving you and he would appreciate if you would think about him as much as he thinks about you.

🔴​Ultimately it is simply not enough for him. The scrappy slivers of attention from you are far from what he truly desires and it only gets worse because he sees everyday how willingly you give other people the attention and affection he would like for himself. A reckless decision pays off though when he manages to convince Tsukasa ro assist him so that he can have you for himself without your friends or anyone else around. There are no ulterior motives though as he doesn't even intend to pressure you into a relationship with him. He might do that another time. For now he is just relishing in the fact that there is only you and him, his heart pounding with giddiness even as you ask him what just happened and where everyone else has suddenly gone. His eyes drink it all in though, your slight fear that you hide behind a courageous mask as you confront him and demand this time to know what just happened because clearly Hyuuga is in on something that you aren't. So close. You are so close to him, your eyes glaring at him yet your poor attempts to intimidate him do the complete opposite as his excitement gets the better of him and lips clash against your own in a reckless and messy kiss.

Minamoto Teru

💛​By all accounts, Teru has his hands rather full. He is the president of the Student Council, always ranks first amongst all students in school and then there is also his secret occupation as an exorcist that most students do not know about. There are lots of duties loaded on his young shoulders yet he manages to do them all and still makes time for you. He is not one to deny his feelings because even if he would, he isn't sure if he could with the way they have already spun out of all control. An obsession is the last thing he would have expected to happen to him yet here he is as all of his thoughts and feelings suddenly revolve around you as if you were the sun. Credit is given where credit is due though, he hides it exceptionally well behind his normally calm and kind attitude. Secretly he likes to keep an eye out for you though as he is most familiar with the supernatural lurking around every corner of the school which does give him a strong protective vein that is at times hard to ignore, especially when he senses something that is dangerously close to your classroom. There is more attention he gives you as time passes and the initial shock melts away and he slowly starts embracing his obsession.

💛​It is around the same time that he starts considering that he should start to seriously woo you. Now that the shame and guilt have been replaced by a gradual acceptance of his feelings, the possessive core of his starts acting up ever so slightly. Teru knows that he would never get over it if someone else were to date you and whilst he isn't just yet sure how exactly he would react, he can already tell that it wouldn't be pleasant. Better prevent a problem before it can even happen rather than fixing it. As much as he doesn't want to be conceited about his reputation, he goes into this all with a fair amount of confidence. He works hard and it always shows after all. As polite as you may try to be though, you aren't fooling Teru. He has perceptive eyes that notice the little twitches in your face and the way you fidget with your hands when he is around you. For reasons he is not sure about yet himself, his presence makes you uncomfortable. The signal you give out silently whenever he asks if he can walk you home or if you'd like him to help you with schoolwork due to his exceeding grades is obvious. You do not wish to get to know him any better and would prefer to keep your distance.

💛​He must say that he is rather hurt as he realises this. The worst about it all is that Teru doesn't even know what it is exactly that has caused you to feel this way about him to begin with. There have been moments where he has asked you very subtly if there is something that you don't like about him but he has never gotten the answers he has hoped to receive. If he doesn't know what is wrong, he can't fix it after all. It isn't like him to simply give up of course and he still does his best to figure out what he can do to get you to trust him more but your heart seems as unmovable as a mountain as your opinion seems to have been already decided a long time ago. This does frustrate him eventually as he wonders what he has ever done to you for you to be so unwilling to even give him a chance. Nothing persuades you and gradually his heart gets venomed with dark feelings that start festering alongside with his growing frustration and pain. What is it that he is doing wrong? His young heart gets corrupted eventually as he goes through his first heartbreak with your continuous rejections. A dangerous feeling of anger sparks within him. He is not going to play the part of the hopelessly lovesick fool with you.

💛​For the first time he abuses the authority he has as he uses his position as the president of the student council to lure you to his side, all by yourself. He can already tell that you are not exactly thrilled to be here but that's alright. After today things will be different after all. You don't look overly surprised when Teru confesses his feelings to you, only a tired look on your face as you prepare yourself to let him down again. Only that he stops you by lifting his hand and stating that he knows already that you don't feel the same way he does. Confusion and the tiniest spark of hope fill you that maybe he has finally understood but it is quickly snuffed out when his his normally kind expression loses its warmth. There is a certain emptiness to his gaze that makes you uneasy as he asks you why you push him so vehemently away, blue eyes demanding an answer from you. There is no reply from you though, causing him to let out an ominous sigh as he steps closer, hands seizing your shoulders to stop you from moving away. He admits to you that he is tired of waiting for you and wants to take everything into his own hands before he leans in, his lips brushing over your own before traveling down your neck.

[mattslolita]

ribs - n. sturniolo

in which ... a nightmare awakes you from your slumber, so you turn to your best friend for comfort. ( best friend!nick & black!fem!reader )

warnings ; mentions of claustrophobia, crying, fluffy ending <3

"𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

all you could do was run.

behind you was the looming shadow of the ugly, winged creature that's gaze bore into you with its five eyes, and its tentacles for hands which were poised to reach out for you.

unfortunately for you despite the disturbingly horrifying creature being completely hideous, for some reason the face of the creature and its eyes bore a familiar face — it was your ex.

the breakup was bad in hindsight, and now it was haunting your dreams. the never ending loop which you seemed to be running in was quickly coming to a close as you realized that you were nearing a cliff.

with one final look behind you, the familiar eyes of the monster that was your ex stared back, baring its enormous fangs as its crusty, large lips upturned at you, reaching out to grab you.

you jumped.

it wasn't the best decision — the deep blue depths of ocean below was suffocating as you fell in. your eyes couldn't close as you now felt as if you couldn't breathe. air became restricted in your lungs.

a loud gasp escaped your lips as you shot up in your bed, cold sweat beading your forehead. it was sure to mess up the baby hairs, which you felt sticking up as you looked on either side of you seeing you had been gripping the sheets.

you looked around yourself frantically, noticing your environment — the spare bedroom in your best friends' house. the sheets were bunched up all around you and the room was cold, the moonlight illuminating on the bed.

still startled, you ran a hand through your box braids, feeling that your scarf was now scattered under the pillows somewhere. tears welled up in your eyes, as you swung your legs off the side of the bed.

your legs felt wobbly as you remembered the horrifying creature in the nightmare, causing you to quickly grab your stuffed teddy bear, admiral snuggles. it was a gift from your best friend on your tenth birthday, and you've had it ever since, even at your adult age of twenty.

nick.

a small sigh of relief washed over you as you immediately made your way to his room. out of the three triplets you were best friends with, you and nick were the closest without a doubt. he was the first person you came out to when you realized you were pansexual, the first person to deal with your first heartbreak; nick was there for any and everything you went through, your number one best friend.

your socked feet padded against the tile floor as you crept upstairs towards nick's room. for a split second as you passed matt's room, you debated on seeing if he was still awake instead, but decided against it.

you finally made it to nick's room — you pushed the door open, seeing the sleeping blonde somewhat sprawled across his bed. you instantly feel bad for the fact that you're about to disturb his peaceful slumber, but matt would probably be too shy ( which you thought was sweet since you had a crush on him ) and chris has a tendency of clinging to your body too tightly when you're cuddling.

with a sigh you walk towards nick, tapping him lightly. he stirs for a second but doesn't wake. you tap his shoulder again, this time a little harder as the darkness that looms over you in the room starts to remind you of your dream once again.

a sniffle sounds from your mouth as your waterline wells with tears again — nick stirs once again before his eyes flutter open, and he looks around and rubs his eyes before they land on you. "y/n? what's wrong?"

"i had a really bad nightmare," you whisper, pulling your nail up to your mouth as your lip quivers, "i'm sorry for bothering you..."

"c'mere," nick tells you, sitting up in the bed, scooting over and patting the spot next to him.

you immediately crawl into the bed next to him — as soon as he wraps around you, you begin to sob into his sleeve whilst he runs a comforting hand around your shoulder.

"nick it was bad," you sniffle, wiping at your eyes, "i felt like i couldn't breathe..."

"sh, it's okay," nick says comfortingly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "you don't have to tell me about the dream yet since you're still shaken up."

you sniffled and laid your head on his chest, your eyes darting around the room. "can i turn that lamp on, please?"

"definitely," nick says, getting up from the bed as you wriggle your feet under the covers. he turns on the lamp in the corner of the room, then he turns to you with a soft grin. "i'm gonna get you some water, okay? do you want anything to eat?"

"nick you don't have to," you sigh, twisting a braid in your hand as you give him a weary, "it's bad enough i woke you up."

"y/n i'm not going back to sleep any time soon," nick waves you off, giving you a stern expression, "goldfish?"

you nod meekly with a small smile, and nick nods to you and quickly exits the room — even though you didn't want to be alone right now, you felt yourself relax in the comfort of nick's warm room. his scent was enough to make you relax into the bed as you got comfortable under the covers.

nick came back into his room with three waters and a big packet of goldfish in his arms, to which you quickly got up to take the waters out of his hand and set them on the bedside table.

"i'm so glad y'all got the multicolored ones," you giggle softly, climbing back into bed next to nick as he holds a water out to you.

he takes the goldfish from you while you chug the water, setting it down on the table. you turn back to nick with a smile, and he smiles back and opens the package.

both of you begin digging into the goldfish as you talk about anything that comes to mind — a movie you both wanna see, you possibly telling matt about your crush on him, easiest bugs to kill, basically anything you guys can think about; it was one of the things you liked most about the two of you. when trying to stray away from a bad incident or something nick was so good at distracting you from what was going on around you.

talks like this usually ended in lots of laughter, and you wouldn't be surprised if matt came knocking on the door trying to hush the both of you up — but surprisingly? you both were quieter than how you usually were.

it wasn't until an hour later you felt your eyelids get heavy as slumber was about to come over you again. nick noticing you struggle to keep your eyes open, he pries the goldfish out of your hands and sets them on the table beside you.

"lay down on your back, y/n," nick instructs you, and you nod sleepily as you lay down, facing him.

"niiiiick," you sing sleepily, yawning into your hand.

"what's up boo?" nick asks you, pulling the covers up over both of you.

"thank youuuuu," you sing, coming out a whisper as your eyes fully close.

"i love you, girl," nick giggles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, "now go to sleep."

"i will..."

you bring your head closer to nick's chest, wrapping your arm around his torso as he brings his arm to rest over you. he watched you carefully as your chest heaved up and down in a rhythmic pattern — he smiles gently at you, hoping that you realized you were safe now with him and that your sleep would be peaceful from now on.

with one final kiss to your forehead, nick's eyes finally drift shut as he lets sleep consume him.

( lilly's section 💌 )

i wanted this to be longer, but im horrible at dialogue :(( for chris's main hoes🤍🩹, esp my baby @thenickgirl ! love you guys so much, hope you liked this <3

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @mrssturnioloo @mattsturniolosleftnut @sturnprime @thenickgirl @guccifrog @nickgetsmewetter @eyeliketoeatpoosay @e1ias3 @sp3aknaur @middlepartmatt @summerssover @riasturns @sturn777 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @pinksturniolo @chrissturniolossidehoe @chris-slut @hoesformatt @raysmayhem-72 @lanas-doll @chrisssluttywaist @mbbsgf @jetaimevous @chaossturns @selenascorner @cottoncandyswisherz

[xveenusx]

Three Seconds

Paring(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

Summary: three seconds is all it takes for things to fall apart

Side note: A lot of my writing is going to be either smut or heavy on the heartbreak lol, very few happy endings

Part 2: And Yet...

———————————————-

One. Two. Three

Three seconds.

One. Two. Three.

Three seconds of silence was all it took for him to completely shut me out. His blonde hair striking against the hue of the sky while his piercing blue eyes stare at me, pleading me to agree.

I opened my mouth to speak yet nothing came out. Instead, a wave of panic spread throughout my body causing an intense feeling of suffocation. My thoughts raced as I realized how serious the situation was.

“We’re sick of your shit.”

“Oh, my shit?” JJ let’s put a humorless laugh before shaking his head.

Kie’s eyes dart to mine before she takes a step towards him, looking at him with such disappointment. “You’re pulling guns on people shit.”

I can tell they’re all waiting for me to jump in, to talk some sense into JJ but for some reason my feet are glued to the floor and my throat is tight and no words are coming out.

Instead, my gaze is locked on the grey duffel bag set at his feet, filled with cash.

Cash that he stole from a drug dealer who had a gun to my head an hour ago.

Anxiety coursed through my veins as my stomach swayed with nausea. I wring my hands together trying to create some type of grounding.

“You need to tell him. Tell him this isn’t what we’re doing.” Pope steps in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders.

JJ’s gaze was burning a whole right through my head and it took every bit of strength I had to meet his stare head on.

I understood him. Everything he’s ever done, as rash and reckless as he was, there was always a reason. That was something our friends never understood about him, they just played it off as JJ being JJ. This money, as stupid as it was, he needed. It could give him every bit a freedom JJ needed away from his dad.

Luke was cruel and uncaring. Consistently spitting venom at him, reminding of how disappointing and useless JJ is. So, I understand. I would have taken the money too if it gave me some peace away from home.

Sarah and Kie, as sweet and loving as they are, will never understand. They were born Kooks, had homes on figure 8 with parents who love them. They didn’t need this money, but we did. And yet, I knew he couldn’t take the money. We were entering entirely knew territory with gold and guns and there was no certainty that we would be safe.

Barry knew exactly who we were. The moment he pulled the gun, the nuzzle pointed directly at JJ, the boy I’ve been in love with since I was 14, all color drained from my face. My body trembled in fear as I let out a shout and reached for him but Barry switched positions. Suddenly, the gun was pressed against my temple as he shouted demands. But for a brief moment, there was a sense of relief because it was no longer on JJ and I could breathe again. This feeling, this sickening choking panic, I don’t ever want to feel again.

The cut was a small place and if not taking the money meant JJ would be safe then it was a small price to pay. But, I know him. I know he’s not going to understand how I see it but rather take it as a betrayal.

One. Two. Three.

JJ says nothing as his eyes rake over every inch of my face. Three seconds was all it took for him to completely close off.

That choking panic I mentioned earlier? Came back tenth-fold as it finally clicked.

“Jayj…” I reached out to touch his arm, the bracelets I gave him mockingly dangling from his wrist as he jerks away from me.

“Don’t.”

My chest tightened as I drew my hand back, fumbling with my fingers nervously.

JJ ripped his hat off his head before roughly running his hand through his hair. He started to pace, twisting the hat in his hands before stopping in front of all of us.

My heart ached at his obvious distress but I knew my input was the last he wanted now. As far as he was concerned, I didn’t care about him.

Pope let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re acting like a maniac-“

“Pope, I took the fall for you man. Do you know how much money I owe because of you?”

“I’m going to pay you back. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I just did. I just did pay it back. “ JJ takes a step forward, pressing his palms on Pope’s chest, shoving him back. “Right here, right now, by myself.”

“Let’s just calm-“ JJ’s glare stopped me in my tracks. He regarded me coldly, his face giving nothing away to the storm that raged in his ice blue orbs.

“Oh what? You suddenly decide you have something to say? Where were you five fucking minutes ago?”

I swallowed hard. “Can I please just explain-“

“Explain what? The fact that you know I need this money and you’re going to act like this is some big moral issue, ” JJ kept his hard set gaze on me, drilling holes into me, daring me to move. “How did you like having a gun pointed at you, huh?”

“You mean the same gun that I stepped in front of because seeing it pointed at you nearly made me sick to my stomach?” I spat, shaking my head at him.

This wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to do this to me. Not now.

He said nothing to me, instead he turned his gaze to the Twinkie, twisting his ring around his finger anxiously.

“JJ, you take this money, you open the door for a whole lot of other shit. You think Barry’s just going to let you take it?”

“Listen to your girlfriend, man.” John B stepped up, clapping JJ on the back.

JJ shrugged him off as he took three quick steps towards me, forcing me to tilt my head up at him.

“What girlfriend?” He spat, his eyes darting in between mine, before settling into a sick satisfaction at my sharp in take of breath.

“JJ-“

“You know what?” He stated, bending down to grab the duffel. “I’m going to go off by myself.”

“You don’t get to do this shit.” I snapped as I reached for the duffel and tugged it towards me. “You want to treat me like shit? Fine, I dont care as long as I don’t find you dead in a ditch.”

JJ blinked at me and said nothing. The only thing giving away his emotion is the tightened grip on the bag.

“Go, then. Since you’re so eager to leave, but you’re not taking the money.” My breath came out short as the anger pounds through my blood.

“Or what? You’re gonna stop me? Last time I checked, I didn't need a god damn hang on.” I wince at the anger in his voice and fight the urge to shut down.

"Stop acting like you don't care , JJ. "

“I expected this from them, but never you.” His ring covered fingers danced along my chin, before he gripped it tightly forcing my eyes on him. “You were supposed to have my back. You told me that you got me, that you understand me. All I know now is that you a fucking liar.”

“I’m trying to protect you.” I plead, “Why can’t you see that?”

JJ scoffs, “Protect me? What do you think is gonna happen if I don’t pay back the restitution?”

“We can find another way-“

“I DONT have anything else.” He shouted in my face, his façade finally cracking under the pressure. “What don’t you understand? This is all I fucking have.”

I felt my grip on the bag weaken as I processed his words. It was normal for JJ to lash out when he felt cornered, but it was never directed at me.

My body trembled as I stared at him with a look I can only describe as broken. “You have me.”

I spoke the words softly knowing if I spoke any louder, the shake in my voice would give me away.

One. Two. Three.

Three seconds was all it took for him to completely and utterly break me.

“That’s not enough.”

Whatever fight I had left, fled from my body as my fingers let go of the duffel. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the tears that threaten to escape.

“You win, JJ.”

My eyes slowly traced every part of his face. From the sun grazed blonde strands that laid in a messy heap on his head, to the bronze tan arms from spending hours out on the waves that complimented his bright blue eyes.

I waited for what felt like hours, but was a mere moment, for JJ to take it back. For him to apologize and pull me into his arms. Instead, we just stared at each other, no one saying a word.

Then, he tilted his head turned around and left, leaving what felt like a blazing trail of carnage in his wake.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of my body. Small hands wrap themselves around me as my legs suddenly feel like they’ve been kicked out from under me. The familiar sweet scent of Sarah filled my nose, as she pulled me into her arms, physically holding me up.

[adventuringblind]

Hi, I saw you were asking for requests and I thought I'd give you an idea for Max Verstapppen x reader fic. I don't request much so if it's too detailed I'm sorry, you can change anything you want, it's just a scenario I've had in my head for a while. I was thinking about enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine (also I'm a sucker for angst with a happy ending) ❤️❤️❤️

Ok, so imagine this: Reader is a new redbull media person/photographer and Max has an instant crush on her but acts like an a**hole cause he can't understand his emotions towards the reader. Other drivers tease him about it. I imagine someone ask why he doesn't like her and Daniel just straight up says "cause he loooves her" and Max gets all flustered. The reader is an absolute sunshine and tries to make him like her, even tho she is hurt by his behaviour. At some point (maybe right before a race or smth) he says something about her and she overhears and is heartbroken and suddenly stops talking to him.

I don't have an idea for an ending except that if you are up to I would love some smut 😂

Behind your walls

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: grumpy x sunshine, smut, angst if you squint.

Request: yes and it made me so happy. I hope I did your idea justice! My requests are open (specifically for Charles, Max Lando, and Oscar). Please don't hesitate to send in an idea!

Summary: Max knows he loves you but can't admit it to anyone, including himself. What happens when you over hear something he say? Will he be able to finally be vulnerable?

Warnings: Max is a jerk (blame is on Jos), pining, mentions of anxiety and a panic attack, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving)

Notes: second pov, I got a bit carried away, and I've never written smut before, so figured crossed it's not as cringe to you as it is to me. I think I changed like one or two things about the request but tried to follow it as much as I could.

If you have the chance, please check out my other work. likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I've started posting small snippets relating to my novel I'm currently editing, support for that is also always appreciated.

Masterlist

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Max has never been the best at dealing with his emotions. Sure he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, but all of them ended in confusion and heartbreak because of father wanting him to dedicate his entire being to racing.

So he did the only logical thing and walled himself off. Only having the occasional fling and never letting himself get to attached.

Then everything changed when he met you. Your sweet personality hired to drag him around all of his PR duties.

He'd made several of his PR managers quit. Ironically, not because he was an asshole to them, but because he had a talent for hiding from the press. It drove his managers insane. Redbull hoped that hiring someone warm and gentle was that you could coax him into fulfilling his responsibilities.

Everyone seemed to love you. Wherever you went, smiles followed. You'd even managed to convince Daniel into being productive and out of whatever his next shenanigan was. Not that you minded them, often laughing along with him if the situation arose. And to everyone's surprise, Max did spend more time with the reporters.

This, however, came at a price. For some reason that nobody could understand, Max Verstappen despised you. Or that's what you thought.

Max himself just thought he was doing the right thing for himself. No matter how many delicious coffies you brought him for early mornings. No matter how many of his jokes caused you to laugh. No matter the praises for wins and comforts for losses. Not even the look of admiration and respect you had for him and how he wanted nothing more than to sweep you away from this terrible world. He would not fall in love.

So he became a jerk to you. Giving you the cold shoulder. He always made sparky remarks at your expense. He even went as far as verbally telling you to 'piss off' even though deep down it hurt him too. Yet you still never wavered. Merely brushing it off and going back to whatever you were previously.

One day during a race weekend, Max found himself with Daniel during his downtime. The two of them eating lunch and chatting about life. The conversation was pleasant until Daniel brought up you.

"I don't understand why you don't like her, mate." Daniel chuckled a little, but there was genuine curiosity behind his eyes. Then, a realization hit the Australian. "I bet you love her! Like a crush from a schoolboy!" He announces for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

Was he wrong? No. But Max wasn't going to tell him that.

"You're wrong, mate. I personally find her incredibly annoying." He scoffed. He was also trying to convince himself of this. It wasn't working like he'd been intending.

"Why do you think? She's like the sweetest person I've ever met." Daniel gives a confused look to Max, who is struggling to find a reason why.

He finally gives the Aussie and awnswer. "She thinks anyone will do whatever she wants cause she's so nice. It's aggravating to see people flit around at her beck and call like she owns the place."

Daniel's face falls, a frown now gracing his lips. "Damn, that's too bad, I think you would've liked her if you'd giver her the chance."

It's at this moment that Max felt a looming presence behind him. The grimace if Daniel's face apparent.

"Sorry for interrupting, Christian is looking for you, Max." Came your voice. Not the one he was used to, you sounded on the verge of crying.

You turned on your heels and swiftly left to find somewhere secluded to compose yourself.

You hadn't intended on eaves dropping. You caught the tail end of their conversation as you were walking up. There wasn't much other noise around, and it's not like either male knows the definition of quiet.

Max, on the other hand, knew he messed up. He placed his hands over his face, shaking his head repeatedly. "I am stupid. I am stupid." He mumbled.

After the race that he managed to win, despite a rough start, he found himself immediately looking for you. Then he looked for you from the podium. And again, when it was time to be harassed from the media.

When he couldn't find you anywhere, he decided to ask Christian. He was hoping to get the chance to explain himself. Maybe even opening up a little because you deserved it after what he said.

Christian looked at him skeptically when he asked. "I thought you'd been told. She went back to the hotel. Security found her hyperventilating, so I had Daniel drive her back."

The rest of the day went by in slow motion for Max. Daniel mentioned a couple of times that you had anxiety. He'd mentioned that you are a people pleaser. You just wanted everyone to smile.

He hadn't realized how much damage his statement had done at the time. The guilt is now settling into the pit of his stomach.

He had someone else following him around. Definitely not as nice as you. He knew he'd fallen for you but couldn't admit it to himself. He needed to make this right. He didn't care if you hated him forever, but he wasn't going to let you think he hated you any longer.

Finally he was able to escape the cameras and locate Daniel. "I need your help."

You had spent your time in the hotel watching the race under your blankets and calming yourself down. You wouldn't lie that you genuinely liked Max. He started as an aquintance, but then you picked up on any grain he would give you. Any story he would tell to fill the silence. You wanted him to enjoy your presence as much as you enjoyed his. You knew you couldn't force it, but it wasn't going to stop you from at least being nice. Had you pushed it too far anyway?

Daniel knew about your crush. He said he saw that way you would listen to his long wonded explanations with patience and understanding and new only someone who loved him could manage that.

However, Daniel had also given you a false sense of hope. The Australian said that he saw how Max wanted to make you laugh. How he followed every PR obligation so you could keep your job. He wanted you around, too.

The tears started rolling again at the thought.

It's evening now. You hadn't eaten since this morning, but your stomach had no intention of letting you nourish yourself. Your anxiety over needing to make everyone happy getting the best of you. You hadn't had a panic attack like that in awhile. Even going as far as to dry heave because of the intensity.

You were exhausted, to say the least.

You wanted to sleep, but Daniel had texted, saying he didn't care if you wanted it or not, he is on route to bring you comfort food.

You did your best to make yourself look presentable. Though when you looked in the mirror, you definitely didn't look happy.

The inevitable knock came. You didn't hesitate to swing open the door, ready to be greeted by a cheeky smile.

What you got was a Dutch with a sheepish smile holding your favorite food and some flowers.

"Before you say anything, please let me explain." He rushed out. He needed to, though, since you were trying to close the door on him. Instead, you pause, considering his offer, and let him inside without a word.

He steps in the door. Finally taking in your appearance and the state of your room. Both are in dissaray. You sit on the edge of the bed and patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts.

You'd always been patient with him. Another reason he loved you.

"I'm sorry for what I said."

You didn't want to believe him, but there was a genuine look behind his blue eyes. You don't say anything. Opting to just listen to him instead.

"I know I fucked up." Max continues. His voice shaking more than you'd ever heard. "And I know you may never forgive me for what I've done to you. But I am truly in love with you." He stares at the floor. Anxiety making him cast his eyes to the floor.

You are shocked, rendered completely speechless at the confession. "Why?" Wat the only thing you could get out.

Max sets down what he is holding and finds the spot next to you on the bed. "I know I treated you poorly. I thought that in pushing you away, I would protect myself. But I fell for you anyway."

He inhales sharply. Staring at your glassy eyes. How were you so calm? He felt exposed and vulnerable. "You don't have to talk to me ever again. But I couldn't let you go without telling you I love you."

"I love you too." You whisper. His head snaps up in surprise. Is he hearing things? "I have for a while."

Nope, he definitely heard right. He watches your lips twist upward into a small smile and let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know it'll take time, but please stick around. Let me show you hard I've fallen."

"It dosen't excuse how you treated me, but I'll give you a chance."

(AN: You can end here if you're not in the mood for spicy things or want to leave it at cute and fluffy... or not. Your choice )

The proximity between you two is so close now. Your foreheads practically touching.

Giving into the intense pull towards you, Max gives in and places his lips on yours. You taste sweet, exactly how he'd imagined. He could already tell he was going to become addicted. "Can I start tonight?" He might be pushing boundaries, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least ask.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you again when you gently nodded your head, yes. Giving him permission to continue for now.

This kiss was much more heated. Both of you hungry to act on all the pent-up emotions you had for each other.

You had one or two partners before Max. You know how to please. So immediately you moved to straddle him. Your inate need to put others first taking over.

It shocked you when Max pulled you off. Suddenly not knowing what to do with yourself. "Tonight is about you." He whispered in your ear. Planting kisses on your jaw as he lays you on the bed. "I'm going to show you how I've fallen for you." Kiss to your nose. "How much I love you." Kiss you your forehead. "And how much I need you." Puncuated by a slow sensual Kiss to your lips.

His lips move against yours with passion and lust. You open your mouth to give him access to your mouth, and he instantly begins exploring.

His hands gently caress the insides of your thighs and run up along your sides. Pulling your shirt up little bits at a time.

Your hand find themselves underneath his shirt. Your fingers are trying to memorize the feeling of his skin.

Max pulls away for you, panting heavily. "Can I take off some of your clothes?" He asks. His voice laced with new found confidence.

You'd never been treated like this. Often take advantage of because you are a giver. You gave constent sure, but this is a whole new level. You nod your head yes again, though looking skeptical.

Max picking up on this stops everything he's doing. "Are you ok? Your face is telling me something different."

"Yes, sorry, this is just a little new to me." You explain.

The shock hits Max once again. "Are you a virgin?!" His mind reeling that he was possibly going to take your virginity and he wouldn't have known.

He's more confused when you start laughing. "No, no! It's just that nobody has treated me so well before!"

"Oh, well if that's the case." A smirk finds its way onto his face as he straps you your shirt, then his. Then he takes your pants, your bra, and finally pauses. Laying kisses to every party of your body.

"I wish I hadn't closed myself off for so long. You're so beautiful. I've wanted you to myself like this for so long."

You pratically moan at his words. "Are you going to finish undressing?"

"What do you not get about me taking care of you." He places a finger over your lips to shush you. You sigh and comply. Letting him take control of the rhythm.

Max is over the top of you. Inching his way down. Sucking and leaving little marks as he goes.

He makes a pit stop at your chest. Gently taking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. His tongue then finds the other one. Swirling it around, then sucking. Listening to you whimper beneath him.

"Do you like that lovely?" The cockiness in his voice not going unnoticed.

He trades sides with his hand and mouth. Trying to give equal attention to both your tits. His free hand now placed firmly on your hip to keep you still.

When he felt he'd given ample attention in one area, he made his way down lower. He stopped at your still clothed lower half. "Can I take these off you now?"

"If you don't I might cry."

Max has them off seconds layer. Now discarded with the rest of your clothes.

His gaze burns into you. His breathing erratic just looking at you. "Your are the most gorgeous thing on the planet."

You swallow hard as he finds a comfortable position. His head now in-between you thighs.

His finger gently rubs where you need him, and he places love bites to the insides of your thighs. "Glad to know I'm doing good so far." He smiles. His fingers are now coated in your slick substance.

You whimper again. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

He licks the finger that was previously touching you. Savoring every bit of the tast he can. "Exactly like how I dreamed."

It was your turn to chuckle now. "You dreamed of me?"

"Almost every night. I got off in the morning to the memory."

You want to dwell on his dirty confession, but Max's tongue doesn't let you.

It doesn't take him long to have you writhing. His tounge unrelenting.

His fingers find their way inside of you. The act alone almost sends you off the edge. Instincts take over as you find yourself closer to utter bliss. Your arms struggle to push max away. His arms hooked under your thighs to hold you close keep you from doing so.

Your back arches as you release. Max is slowly coming to a stop as your ride out your high.

Both of you are breathing heavily. Max's fingers are still caressing your hips as you both catch your breath.

Realization hits you. "Don't you need something too?" You ask, voice laced with anxiety over not pleasing him also.

Max only smirks, laying his head against your leg. "I fine, don't you worry. Tonight, we cuddle, and tomorrow I take you for round two."

And that's exactly what you did. Max helped clean you up and put on your pajamas. Then you two curled up in bed together. Him telling you everything he had been wanting to since he laid eyes on you.

You know this road worh Max certainly wouldn't be easy. But you're patient, and you'll wait for him. As long as he needs to let himself fully tear down his walls.