#hope this works for you and that I left it open for you to decide who of the two fits better for it!

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

frontman x reader whos a player but not because of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun and ju-hon and got in the limousine and then in-ho falls in love with her and gets her out of the game with him like at the end of the season

can u also like not write it like a hate love relationship? like readers conflicted but still likes in-ho

Keeping you safe

Hwang In-ho x reader

hiii, pleasure writing your request! hope it’s the way you imagined :)

Word count: 3,3k

Warnings: violence, murder,…

Requests are open! i would also like to write something about Jun-ho or the salesman, so hmu

When you jumped into the limousine after Gi-hun you didn’t consider its consequences. Jun-ho trusted you to keep your eyes on Gi-hun at all costs and you were going to keep your word, even when it meant making yourself vulnerable.

The gas was sweet on your tongue and Gi-hun already slumped down on the plush leather of the limo seats. But you were wide awake, somehow defying sleep’s influence, shaking, still processing what the deep voice implied and Gi-hun demanded. “Put me in the game. But leave her out of it.”

Those words were followed by a dry laugh. You knew that meant there was no way out of it now. You started whispering into the intercom to Jun-ho, saying how sorry you were. His panicked voice was cut off by you turning off the device while you prepared yourself for the Frontman’s reaction, closing your eyes and taking shallow breaths.

“No. Those are my games and my rules. Might make them more interesting, don’t you agree, player 456?”

Then the gas started rising up from the floor. Gi-hun grabbed your hand, rumbling about how sorry he was. You smiled wearily, pressing his hand. “It’s okay, Gi-hun.” You both knew it wasn’t. It was as far from ‘okay’ as possible.

His fingers went limp and you resigned, waiting for the inevitable. With muted senses you watched the tinted protection shield go down. Behind it was the man in the mask himself, looking at you over his shoulder. Just when his gloved hand hovered over his mask, shrugging it off, you were engulfed in darkness.

***

After the first game, you thought that nothing could surprise you anymore. As much as Gi-hun tried to keep you from all the bloodshed, even he couldn’t cover your eyes and ears every time there was a gunshot. Still pale and shaken, digging dirt and blood from beneath your nails, you sat on your bed with the provided food in your lap, watching your surroundings. At least Gi-hun could be happy he found here his long lost friend, with whom he was now talking. You still didn’t speak to anyone else. You were scared that if you did, they would be dead by tomorrow.

You barely noticed there was any commotion until the sudden silence peaked your interest. There was a skirmish between three guys, two of them working together, which made the outcome of the fight quite obvious. There was another player stalking towards the group, trying to break up the fight.

“I said save the lecture for your own damn kids.” one of the guys shouted at him. That’s when you noticed the player’s still frame, like a cat before launching at its prey. And you were right; within a blink of an eye, he put both of the guys on their backs, not even breaking a sweat. You looked closer at him, reading the number 001 on his back. Even from afar you could see how deadly calm he was while choking one of them. After a moment the rage left his body and he released his grip. You didn’t expect the applause that followed his actions. You exchanged a look with Gi-hun. Were you the only one who sensed something foreboding?

You turned your attention back to the food in your lap and decided that even though you weren’t hungry, you desperately needed the energy. But in your mind, all you could think about was the player 001. Was he a police detective like Jun-ho or a former marine like Jung-bae or Dae-ho? Or something else entirely?

It took you a while to get out of your head and notice that his bed was right next to yours. With a sigh, player 001 sat down, grabbing his unfinished food. Just then he noticed your searching look and gave you a tentative smile.

“Hello, sir,” you began, looking down at your hands. A sudden wave of nervousness came over you. “I’m Y/N. Do you mind telling me your name?”

“No bother, Y/N,” he replied and you stared at his lips, at how perfectly they formed your name. “I’m Young-il. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you grinned at him in response, holding out your hand that he tentatively shook.

“Nice moves there,” you pointed your chin to the middle of the dormitory where the fight took place. “You could teach me if you had time, I’m terrible in combat.” A lie. Jun-ho himself taught you how to hold yourself and how to hold a gun. You were just trying to find out who Young-il was.

“If we have time, yes.” he nodded absentmindedly, scooping up a mouthful of rice.

“Do you mind me asking? I was just wondering if you have any children.” you said carefully.

“No, I don't.” Young-il replied, suddenly his gaze sharp.

“Well, I just thought that, based on your reaction to what that other player told you-“ you searched for the answer in his closely guarded expression. “You lost your child, didn’t you?”

Young-il didn’t say anything to that, his cutlery going limp in his hand.

“I just- I’d know that look anywhere. I know it’s not something to bond over,” you gave a startled laugh, fidgeting under his everlasting gaze, “but if you’d like to talk about it-“

“Thank you.” He reached out and squeezed your hand. His touch was calloused and warm. “I mean it.”

You smiled softly, squeezing his fingers in response. “I know.”

Preparing yourself for lights out, you couldn’t ignore his lingering gaze following your movements. Thankfully Gi-hun approached you and sat next to you on the bed, guilt visible in his expression.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to drag you into this. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe-“

“Don’t worry about that, sir. I can take care of myself. Anyways, I was only following Jun-ho’s orders. It had nothing to do with you.”

Unconvinced, Gi-hun sighed and moved to his own bed, not having the energy at the moment to argue with you. You finally lay down, moving the thin blanket over your body, curling up on your side.

“I overheard you talking about Jun-ho, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar that name sounds to me,” Young-il broke the silence, looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, he used to work as a police detective so that’s why you might know him.”

“Oh, yes, that might be possible,” Young-il gave you a restrained smile. “And he is to you-?”

“A friend. I used to work as a secretary in his department, that’s all.” you smiled back.

“Oh, sorry to pry.” he looked at his hands.

“Not at all.” He looked into your eyes and your eyes crinkled with another smile. Only when he looked away did you turn around in your bed. A few minutes later you heard Gi-hun and Young-il talking and even though you didn’t want to, it was impossible to not overhear. Young-il was explaining the story of why he’s in the games and why he chose to continue playing - how his pregnant wife was gravely ill and he needed the money due to her medical bills. Somehow, this answer shocked you, even though you shouldn't have been thrown off by it. Of course he was married.

Only after the whole dormitory fell silent did you finally fall into a fitful sleep.

***

“Thank you, Young-il.” you whispered to him, gratefully touching his shoulder. Young-il turned his gaze your way and the corners of his eyes crinkled under the influence of a smile. Only his supportive words during the six legged pentathlon could calm you down, which resulted in you successfully completing your mini game. The memory flashed through your mind - tears welling in your eyes, hands shaking as you reached again and again for the gong-gi pebbles. You could sense your teammates’ growing unease but that even worsened your situation. After the third attempt, Young-il grabbed you by the elbow, leaning closer as he said: “Ignore everything else okay? Just listen to me and focus.”

You nodded, bewildered eyes setting again on the pebbles. You were kneeling in a puddle of blood, which didn’t exactly help calm your nerves.

“Just concentrate. I know you can do it. Look at you, all flushed red and focused. This look suits you.” The pebbles balanced on the knuckles of your hand, just one more throw. You looked up at Young-il, lips slightly parted. Were you hearing correctly? Maintaining eye contact, you threw the pebbles op with a sudden surge of confidence and caught them flawlessly. Everyone cheered and you were hoisted up by your team, but all you could hear were Young-il’s last words whispered in your ear: “Good girl.”

Now he was looking at you, this new tension between you two palpable.

“Anytime.”

***

While you tried to act nonchalant, it was just impossible. The way Young-il now watched you at all times drove you crazy, feeling his gaze like a branding on your body. You were grateful for keeping a watch during the lights off, thinking that it could distract you from your own dirty thoughts. But it was quite the contrary.

Overlooking the silent dark room, those words echoed in you even more soundly. Good girl. With a sigh you stretched out your legs, trying to ignore the tightness in your underbelly. You were annoyed with yourself. Why did the words of a stranger make you feel this way? Words of a married stranger, more like it.

“You seem distracted.”

You jumped at that impassive raspy voice. Thankfully, once Young-ho sat down next to you, he couldn’t notice your flushed cheeks due to the impassable darkness. Your shoulders touched and to your surprise he didn’t immediately move away.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” you smiled with your head bowed, nearly chuckling at how clueless he must be.

There was an awkward silence following your reply, so, without thinking about it, you said: “Thank you again for today, truly. You helped me a lot.”

Young-il looked at you, searching for something in your expression. Apparently he found it. “You think about that a lot, don’t you?”

“Sorry?” you stumbled over your words, not knowing how to react, what to say.

“My words alone made you quiver. Now imagine what my tongue could do.” he whispered, teasing you, a spark in his eyes.

“Young-il-“ you breathed out, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. You felt your underwear getting wetter by the minute. But you put that all in the back of your mind as you said: “I know you are married. Expecting a child, even. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Does that bother you? Or are you bothered by the effect I have on you?”

You sighed, looking away from his handsome face. Was he sent here just to test your boundaries?

“I still have enough self control to know right from wrong.” But your body wasn’t in line with your thoughts.

Young-il stared at you for a moment, then sighed, irritated. “My wife and my child are gone. I just don’t enjoy talking about them in past tense. I joined the games out of misery, nothing more. Are you happy now?”

You froze, looking at the way his arms formed into fists at his sides. It was like having ice cold water poured all over you.

“Young-il, I’m so-“

“Don’t be. It’s been a long time.” Eyes meeting, he smiled at you tentatively. You squeezed his warm hand and he relaxed, loosening his fist.

“Right now, I don’t care about anything but you.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Moving closer, he kissed the bruise already blossoming on your jaw. And you let him.

“I don’t want to scare you away with my… infatuation. But right now, I’m so desperately weak for you.” Your breathing hitched as he moved his lips to your ear.

Just when you thought he would kiss you, he suddenly pulled away.

“I’ll take over the watch. You should sleep, muster some energy for tomorrow.” You nodded as if in a trance. He helped you stand up and led you to your bed. Young-il left you standing there, leaving only the whisper of his lips branding your cheek.

***

The third game was a whirlwind of movement. Only thanks to Young-il were you still alive and breathing. Every time a number was announced, he firmly grasped your wrist and dragged you with him wherever he went. Not that you were complaining - you were so overstimulated by all the commotion that you were glad you could keep up with him.

When one player tried to separate you from him, Young-il bared his teeth and kicked him square in the chest. “She’s mine,” There it was, the cold expression and clenched jaw. Even though you were on the brink of dying, a shiver ran down your spine.

You made it safe with your group into one of the rooms and soon were walking out to play the last round. You knew exactly what the woman’s voice was going to announce and you were right: “Two.”

Young-il was already moving, pushing people out of your way. Everything seemed to go smoothly, until you reached the room; a player was already inside.

“Get out.” Young-il growled and reached the man, trying to get him on his legs and out of the room.

“We were here first,” the player whimpered. You noticed other players running to the door you were standing next to and panicking, you closed it, pushing your whole body against it.

You looked over your shoulder at Young-il, wanting to see if he was any closer to pushing the player out through the doors. But you froze when you saw he was holding the man in a headlock, choking him. All you could do was stare.

Young-il was looking straight back at you. And with one smooth motion of his arms he broke the man’s spine, leaving him staring at the ceiling, going limp in Young-il’s grip.

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” Young-il said, slowly getting up. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the lifeless body on the ground.

Only when he knelt in front of you did your eyes meet his. He grabbed your cold, shaking hands, kissing the knuckles while staring into your eyes.

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“You poor thing,” Young-il said absentmindedly, wiping your tears away. “I can keep you safe, Y/N. I promise. All I’ve done was to prove that to you.”

“It’s scaring me how far you’re willing to go for me,” you sobbed, fighting the urge to flinch when he caressed your cheek. Still, you couldn’t find a reason to hate him. All the things he was saying were true, he did all of this for you, he killed a man for you, for your own safety.

The lock on the doors clicked and you closed your eyes, letting yourself be guided by Young-il out of the room. You knew that if you looked once more at the corpse, you would never let Young-il touch you again.

So you kept your eyes closed, choosing the easier path.

***

When the lights went out, all you could do was hold Young-il as hard as possible and count the minutes until the slaughter was over. Head against his chest, you concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat, every other sound pushed into the background. His hand was on your lower back, holding you as close as possible.

“I want to go home.” you whispered, clutching the front of his T-shirt like a small child. It was all a mistake. You shouldn’t be here.

“Okay, you will, okay? When we disarm the guards, you stay hidden, but once we take control of the rest, you have to come to my side, you understand?”

You nodded into his chest. Young-il kissed the crown of your head before leaving you under the bed as the guards tried to take control of the situation.

After many gunshots fired, you were crawling to the group of players formed in front of the main doors. Without hesitation you claimed one of the smaller guns for yourself. Somehow, the familiar weight of it calmed you down a bit. Young-il looked at you with tenseness.

“Keeping secrets, I see.” In reply you just loaded the gun, staring back.

Gi-hun looked your way over his shoulder, sending you a quick nod. The group exited the room, moving quickly down the corridor. Young-il stayed back, moving slower than the rest. Once the first guards got in your way, he pushed you to the side, saying: “This way!” Looking over your shoulder, everyone was shooting at the enemy, moving the other way. You looked back at him, unsure.

“You wanted to go home, didn’t you? Well, this is it.” seeing how indecisive you were, he sighed, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Hesitant, you followed his lead. You took the side stairs up and you got a bad feeling in your stomach. Young-il didn’t bother to check the corners, nor the other stories as you climbed the stairs. He walked like someone who knew this place, someone who wasn’t scared that he might be shot.

You stopped in your tracks, aiming your gun with a trembling hand. Young-il, upon noticing you were not following him, turned around. There was something like betrayal shining through his demeanour.

“You’re going to explain.” you said, trying to keep your voice and hand steady.

“Oh, Y/N, I think you already know.” Young-il pointed out, a corner of his lips curling up. He took one step towards you.

“What. Is. Your. Real. Name.” you said through gritted teeth, cocking your gun.

“Hwang In-ho.”

All this time, he was the long lost brother Jun-ho was trying to find. You felt the sting of betrayal in your bones.

“Was any of this real?” Tears stung in your eyes and you hated yourself for being so vulnerable.

“Oh, baby,” In-ho sighed, walking to you, kneeling in front of you again. The muzzle of the gun touched his forehead, which he seemed unbothered by.

“Everything.” he said, looking up at you.

“I keep trying to hate you,” you whispered, trying to muster at least some hatred that would make you pull the trigger. “It would be so much easier if I did.”

In-ho reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hand. He threw in on the ground, making it slide on the floor.

“I know,” he whispered, grabbing your hips with his hands. He stared at you yearningly. There was a burning ache in your chest clawing its way into your throat.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

The worst part was that he was right.

“I know I should stay away from you, but I can’t. It’s not that simple.” A sob tore out of your throat, making it hard for you to breathe. There were so many emotions in you that your head was spinning. All you knew was the fact that you couldn’t hate the one person who deserved it the most.

“Stay with me, love. I beg you,” In-ho said hoarsely, gripping you harder, trying to make you understand. “You will be safe with me. I will not break that promise.” His eyes were filled with hope. “You felt it too, I know.”

You closed your eyes, composing yourself and your thoughts. You knew it was wrong. But you always had a weakness for the forbidden.

In-ho stood up, taking your face in his hands. He kissed your forehead, your temples, your jaw. And when he kissed you on the lips, you let yourself melt into the touch, forgetting everything else.

“You’ll be the death of me.” you whispered against his lips and he smiled into the kiss, knowing you were his.

[ipushhimback]

we were drunk, it happens - pt. 2

part 1: here

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: smut (marked with 3 red stars), oral (f receiving), p in v, no protection word count: 3k summary: Y/N attends a GP, saying if Lando wins he will be rewarded

Only a couple days later, Y/N got a message from Max.

The Monaco GP is next week. I know you are not really into F1, but I’d love for you to come, and I am sure Kelly and P would also be happy to have someone to spend their time with. What do you think? – Max

Y/N really hated Formula 1, but not because of the sport itself. She loved the fast cars, the races, how everyone wants to be the best. But her dad had ruined it all for her when they were kids.

She had always loved karting. Sometimes she was even allowed to drive Max’ kart, but when she told her dad that she also wanted to kart competitively, just like her brother, he had said she couldn’t. How could she even think of that as a girl. She would never have a chance in the sport.

Sometimes she thinks that her dad was right. She probably wouldn’t have come far as a woman, but she still would have loved to race.

Maybe it was for the better. Jos wasn’t known for being the best dad to Max. He had always pressured him. Punished him when he wasn’t good enough. And Y/N knew how it affected Max now. She didn’t know if she could have handled that as a kid.

So, from there on she had avoided Formula 1 as much as possible as it simply reminded her too much of her father.

But how could she say no to her brother. Moreover, it could be a great opportunity to spend some time with Lando. Even though they had agreed to no feelings. But honestly, Y/N didn’t know how long that would work. Or if it even could work. She had doubts.

I’m not sure. Is dad going to be there? - Y/N

No, I don’t think so. At least he didn’t say anything to me. But that doesn’t mean anything. - Max

Ok, then I guess I will come. Would you or Kelly pick me up? I don’t want to have to search for a parking lot. - Y/N

Of course. See you then. – Max

Somehow, Y/N was even looking forward to attending the Grand Prix. She didn’t know when the last time was that had happened. But now she just had to hope and pray that her dad wasn’t going to be there as well. Then she would for sure go home. She would just take a walk as it was only half an hour from her home.

She picked up her phone again and opened her chat with Lando. They exchanged their numbers before he left, so they could chat about when they could meet up again – but no feelings involved, of course.

Gonna be at the GP next week. You better win, Norris. - Y/N

She waited a bit, but Lando didn’t go online. He probably was at training, Y/N thought. But just as she wanted to out her phone on the coffee table in front of her, her phoned signaled an incoming message.

Really? How come I have never seen you at one before? But if I win, I wanna be rewarded… - Lando

Long story. But ofc you will. Why else would I tell you to win? – Y/N

K. Have to get back to training, bye. – Lando

Yeah, bye. - Y/N

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. Lando had interrupted her training. For her. To answer an unimportant message. She leaned back on the couch pillows, sighed and smiled to herself.

She sat back up. No feelings. He is probably an arrogant, rich person. She would just end up hurt if she fell for him.

She took a deep breath and got up from where she was sitting. The world champion’s sister made her way to the kitchen where she took a cup from the cupboard and made a huge coffee. The pill she took earlier did little for her headache, so she hoped that the caffeine was going to help.

Then she took her laptop and decided to watch some silly show to take her mind off Lando.

***

A week later, Y/N was ready to go to the GP. She was wearing a bright blue summer dress, her favorite. It had a lot of little white flowers printed on the fabric and it had a quite low neckline, which she hoped Lando would notice.

She actually thought about wearing something orange, in fact it had been one of her favorite colors to wear for quite a long time, but she couldn’t wear papaya-similar colors when she was there to support her brother – or when she was at least pretending to support her brother. Because even though she did not have feelings for Lando – no, really, none – she had been so horny the last couple of day, she just needed Lando to win this Grand Prix.

So now, Y/N sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water while scrolling through instagram and waiting for her brother and Kelly.

She watched her Labradoodle puppy trying to catch his own tail which made her laugh, so she got up to pet him.

Eventually she heard the doorbell ring. She quickly went to open the door, but instead of her brother or Kelly, it was P standing on the doorstep.

“P! Hey! What are you doing here? Are you going to drive me to the Grand Prix?”, Y/N was joking which made the five-year-old giggle.

“No, silly. I can’t drive. But Maxie said I could ring, and I have to tell you to hurry because we are late.”

“Ok, I just need to get my jacket from upstairs”, Y/N said.

“No!”, Penelope exclaimed. “You can’t. Maxie said we are late. Now come on.” P grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her outside and towards the Audi that was parked in front of her house.

The young woman new better than to argue with the little girl so she decided to just follow her. Who needed a jacket anyway. In the worst case she would just ask Max or Kelly for something warmer to wear.

An hour later Y/N was hanging around with Kelly and P around Max’ garage and she regretted that she didn’t come later. They have been standing around for what felt like hours and the race wasn’t even close to get started. The only thing that prevented her from going home again to sleep and coming back later, was P who was full of energy and Kelly who just couldn’t keep up with it anymore, being 9 months pregnant.

“Y/N, can we go to Lando? I wanna see him and tell him good luck. Can we go? Now?” P looked at Y/N with that cute little pout. “Please?”, she added after seeing the critical look on Y/N’s face.

“P… Lando is probably really busy, just like Max. Does it really have to be now?” If the Dutch woman was being honest with herself, she just really didn’t want to see Lando right now.

No. That was not correct. She wanted to see him. And that was the problem. She shouldn’t do that. No feelings. Just fun. That can’t be that hard, right?

Wrong. It can be hard. Not falling for a handsome guy with the curliest curls in the world, the cutest, widest smile existing on planed earth, the prettiest blue eyes that seemed to be green in different lightning and – stop.

“It really has to be now! If I don’t wish him luck, he won’t be good and he has to win!” P looked at her with these pleading look Y/N just can’t resist so there she was, walking with P to the McLaren garage.

“You know that Max would kill us if he saw us here?”, Y/N said jokingly. “By the way, don’t you want Max to win? Why Lando?”

“Maxie won too often. Now it is Lando’s turn. It is boring with Maxie. I like drama. And we don’t get drama when Maxie always wins. And Lando is great! He always plays with me and lets me do his hair. He has nice hair. It is curly.” P grinned happily while she explained to Y/N why Lando was so great.

A bit later they were standing in front of Lando’s garage and Y/N went to the first mechanic she spotted.

“Sorry, where is Lando? P wants to tell him good luck for the race. Is that possible?” Y/N just hoped that the mechanic would recognize P or her so she could go to Lando.

“I know her. Who are you? I am sure you understand that I can’t just let anyone to him.”

Y/N nodded. “I am Y/N Verstappen. You know, Max’ sister? Kelly didn’t come with us because, well she is pregnant and probably sleeping somewhere.”

The mechanic looked satisfied with the answer. “Ok. You just have to go straight there and then the third door on the left side. There should be his name on the door. Just knock. He will open if he isn’t preparing for the race at the moment.”

“Ok thank you. Have a nice day, bye!” Y/N looked at the five-year-old next to her who had a content look on her face.

Just a minute later they were standing in front of a wooden door, they could hear loud music from inside, so Y/N knocked again, even louder this time.

“God, how isn’t he deaf already”, she murmured more to herself than anyone else, but P commented it anyway.”

“Because he is Lando. He is not becoming deaf ever. He is great.” The older woman could barely hold the laugh that was threatening to spill over.

“Yes, he really is”, Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head at P’s enthusiasm.

Finally, the door was opening, and Y/N was standing in front of this handsome guy Lando.

“P!”, he explained.

“Hi Lando! I want to wish you good luck. Y/N said you were busy, but I had to because you have to win, ok?”, the girl asked in just one breath while falling forward and demanding a hug from the driver.

Y/N could only laugh. Too adorable was the childhood crush Penelope obviously had on the older guy.

“That’s great! Thank you, P! So, you are going to cheer for me? Isn’t Max going to be sad?”, Lando asked.

“No, he will understand. You will win. I know because I wished you good luck.”

Lando just laughed, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire how cute he was with Penelope. And that laugh… she could listen to it for hours and- stop.

***

Lando did in fact win. And Y/N couldn’t be happier about it. During the Podium celebration – Lando came in first place, Max in second and Oscar in third – she just stood in front of it, being impatient.

But then finally, Lando came to her, already changed into a hoodie and simple jeans, his hair damp from the shower he probably had.

“So… what about my reward? Should we drive to your place again or mine?”, Lando asked with that damn smirk on his face.

“Mine. I need to feed my dog.” Lando shot you a surprised look.

“You have a dog? Why didn’t I see him already?” Y/N noticed how disappointed Lando looked.

“I just got him like a week ago. He is super cute, but right now he is at my neighbor’s, and I don’t want her to spend even more of her time taking care of my dog.”

Lando just hummed and led the younger woman to his car. She let out a whistle when she saw how nice it was.

“I assume you won’t let me drive that beauty?”, she asked the brunette.

“You want to?” Y/N nodded enthusiastically.

“Go for it”, Lando eventually said, throwing his key in her direction and she caught it easily.

She let out a high-pitched squeal when she sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Carefully, she pressed the accelerator, and the car shot forward.

“This is so crazy, oh my god… I will steal that beauty from you.”

It only was a short drive to Y/N’s home, so she had actually thought about driving differently so she could enjoy the feeling of the car even longer but honestly, she didn’t want to. She knew exactly what would happen when they arrived, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for it.

But it turned out she did not know what happened next. Lando kneeled down and cuddled with her dog who seemingly enjoyed that as he fell asleep right in Lando’s arms.

“Can you leave Milo alone? He’s not the reward I meant…”, Y/N said a bit disappointed because she knew her puppy was cute, but she didn’t imagine Lando just playing with her dog for the next hour.

***

Eventually Lando set down the sleepy puppy who immediately curled up on the couch and they went upstairs, not wanting Milo to watch them do whatever they were planning to do.

“So… now I will finally get my reward?”, Lando asked, this stupid smirk back on his face.

“Oh, shut up! You were the one who needed to cuddle with Milo”, Y/N said before stepping forward and pulling Lando to her by grabbing the strings of his hoodie.

She tilted her head up and just a moment later, Lando’s lips were on her’s. Y/N hummed and opened her lips slightly.

Lando moved towards her bed, not breaking the kiss, until Y/N flopped on the mattress. He pulled back just enough to have access to her dress so he could pull it over her head, leaving her in just her underwear. Y/N then tugged at Lando’s hoodie, and he ended up helping her by slipping it off, as well as his pants. Y/N stared at his chest.

She knew she had seen it all before, when they hooked up after the dinner, but the memory of the night wasn’t too present anymore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t know how she could ever look at Lando and not think how hot this guy looks.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lando kisser her again, rougher this time. More demanding than anything else did he press his lips on her’s. Her back arched off the bed which Lando saw as his chance to get his hands behind her back to open her bra.

“So gorgeous”, he whispered on her lips and pulled back just for Y/N to feel his mouth closing around her nipples, making her gasp.

His lips trailed lower until he stopped above the waistband of her panties. His index fingers hooked into it, and he pulled them down until he could throw them to where he thought the rest of the clothes already is.

His went even lower until his lips hovered just above her. Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked down at Lando who was spreading her legs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and his pupils dilated.

The first touch of his tongue felt… electric and it made her back arch. He teased her with fast licks and gentle pressure which made Y/N move into his direction.

“Patience. Trust me”, Lando said, and Y/N would throw a pillow at him if it hadn’t felt this good.

But it wasn’t long until Lando grew more and more impatient, and he didn’t want to continue teasing Y/N.

His tongue worked not only faster but also firmer and soon she was teetering right on the edge. Her hands came down to grab his hair, pushing him closer to her and she couldn’t stop the loud moan from slipping through her lips.

Lando hummed against her and the vibrations just pushed her even closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue as he curled them in her, pressing into that sweet spot.

When Lando realized that Y/N was about to come he worked even more precise, rougher. And just like that she tripped over the edge, and she felt the release wash over her. Lando didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of her until she rode out her orgasm.

Y/N felt her legs tremble and she slowly opened her eyes again just to see Lando over her. His lips were glistening from her juices as he moved to press a kiss on her lips. She tasted herself on his lips, the taste blending with the champagne he drank earlier on the podium and just the taste of him.

She pulled back just enough to mumble, “Need you, Lando. Please.”

Lando didn’t say anything just moved to get rid of the boxers he still wore. Y/N couldn’t help but stare at him, her lips parting slightly.

“Like what you see?”, he teased her though it was apparent that he wanted it just as much as she did. His cock was hard and leaking and huge. Y/N really didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that.

“How did that fit the last time?”, she blurted out and wanted to take it back immediately when Lando chuckled.

“Wanna find out?”, he said and even though he was just teasing, Y/N knew that if she just said no, Lando would stop immediately, no questions asked.

But she nodded, wanting to finally feel him in her. Lando positioned himself between her thighs, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock.

Y/N breath hitched as he pushed into her with one hard thrust. Her hands flew to his shoulder, and she was sure that her nails would leave marks on his skin, as she adjusted to the stretch. Lando stilled just for a moment before pulling out nearly fully before slamming back into her.

Y/N moaned his name which just seemed to fuel the Brit, and he started thrusting into her even harder.

“God, you feel so god”, he moaned, his hands gripping her hips and Y/N was sure she would have bruises by tomorrow.

Only after a few thrusts Y/N was already close again, still sensitive from her previous orgasm.

“Lando, I-“, her voice broke but Lando hummed, knowing exactly what she wanted to say.

“I know. Come for me.”

Her orgasm hit her even harder this time, her body still high from before and Lando came just a moment later, with himself buried deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved but then, Lando slowly pulled away, collapsing onto the bed just next to Y/N.

She stared at the ceiling, her chest still heaving as she was catching her breath.

“Happy with your reward?”, she asked Lando.

“Very. This was amazing.”

Y/N rolled to the side to face Lando, a grin tugging at her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Norris,” she said with a sly grin.

A/N: Should I write a pt. 3? I kinda want to but idk if anyone wants to read it

[obxsummer]

mess // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: groff gets grounded, sarah's wifey material, and a statue apparently holds the blue crown, which means someone's climbing to get it.

warnings: usual obx angst

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

Morocco was proving to stay a challenge to you all, especially when the vehicle’s motor blew up on Cleo and the poor girl was stuck attempting to fix it. In the meantime, Pope was observing the items John B and Sarah had managed to pull from Terrance’s boat in their quick mission. 

While JJ attempted to help Cleo get the truck started again, John B and Sarah were browsing at nearby booths. This left you and Kie to take the time to chill out and just observe the people around you. 

What your fiancé had begrudgingly revealed to you, was he pickpocketed the gun the mercenary had dropped and it was now tucked in his waistband, clearly visible against the light colored fabric. You had rolled your eyes, but didn’t bother to argue with him. You were all unarmed, in his defense, so it wouldn’t hurt to have some way to fight back.

“John B, I’m tired of driving. Take the wheel.” Cleo waved dismissively as she climbed into a seat next to Sarah, allowing your brother and Pope to take the front.. 

The next location, Agapenta, was supposedly where you’d find some answers. The drive would take a while, a lovely 60 miles of hopefully peace and quiet. JJ happily accepted the empty time, letting you rest against his shoulder as the wind whipped around you all. The ride was as smooth as John B could make it, the road proving itself bumpty and full of twists and turns. 

Eventually, pavement turned into dirt and Pope was pointing out a nearby well to refill water bottles and take a break to stretch. You groaned as the vehicle came to a stop and climbed out, your legs sore from sitting so scrunched together for the time being. 

“Pope, I really hope you’re right about this well,” John B said as he rolled his neck, a popping sound following the movement and he sighed. 

JJ reached up to help you climb down, the dirt hard and dry beneath your feet. You opened your backpack, shuffling through the mess to grab the empty water bottles you’d brought from Poguelandia to pair with the larger ones they’d bought at the market. 

“How does this thing even work?” You asked Pope as you walked toward the well with the various bottles in your arms. “Like is there a pump or-”

“Hello!”

Pope grabbed your arm to pull you back from approaching the stones. The shouting continued in a language you couldn’t quite recognize before you all decided to look down the well at the same time. 

“I guess we found Groff, huh?”

Bile burned your throat as you took a step back from the dark pit in the ground. JJ was standing a few feet away with a tan back in his hands, the contents inside likely belonging to the man stuck at the bottom of the well.

You wondered how he didn’t die from the fall, silently pissed that outside forces couldn’t have just ended this nightmare on your behalf. Because now, there was a decision to make that ultimately landed in JJ’s hands.

JJ gently squeezed your shoulder as he approached the well, a silent communication that he could do it. He looked utterly pissed and disappointed with the realization that he was really the only one to handle the situation, but leaned over the edge to address Groff.

“JJ, is that you?” The voice echoed back.

JJ sighed and looked straight ahead, completely dismissing the man in the well. “What happened?”

“I’m trapped down here because of that… Rafe.”

You snorted, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth to keep your laughter in as Sarah nearly broke her character next to you with a laugh. Leave it to Rafe to shove Groff in a literal well. 

“But now, my boy, my beautiful boy, is here to rescue me.”

That one got a full giggle out of Kiara, and JJ looked at all of you with an unamused look. Annoyance was winning its course here, and really, now you wanted to leave.

“What happened to the scroll?” JJ asked as he played with the flask of water in his hands. 

“Rafe! He took it and he tried to kill me, but I know where it is. I know how to get it back. We’ll go. We’ll go together, just… just throw me the rope!”

The blond boy stepped back from the view of the well, which evidently scared Groff enough that he started yelling again. You stepped away from Sarah and Kie to grab his arm, scanning his face for any hint of how he was feeling.

“You okay?”

To your surprise, JJ’s eyes were full of tears when he looked back at you and he looked angry. “He almost killed you. And now he’s sitting here asking me to help him?” 

The broken whisper felt like a punch to the chest and your fingers unconsciously brushed over where the bruises rested on your skin. You’d support JJ through a lot of rights and wrongs, but this had to be the hardest one. 

You’d come to hate very few people in your life, but Groff was the quickest one to reach that status. He was cruel. There were very few people that were wicked in that way, deep to their core, but he was a perfect example of one. Heartless, even.

JJ sighed, drying away stray tears with the back of his hand. You let your hand coast up his arm to rest on his neck, gently brushing the skin of his cheek with your thumb. “It’s okay. It’s your call.”

He shook his head harshly and stepped out of your grasp to approach the well again as Groff yelled out for him to toss the rope down. JJ picked up the twine with consideration and your heart felt like it was in your throat. 

“JJ, I need you to throw me the rope!”

“Why?” JJ countered as he stared at the object intently. “Why should I do that when you tried to kill not only me, but someone you knew meant the world to me? To us.”

There was a pause before the answer. “I snapped. Sorry.”

John B let out a loud laugh at that one, his head falling back against the seat of the truck before his hand rubbed at his face in disbelief.

“Just get me out of here, JJ, and we will get the crown. Together, just like we planned.”

“You gave me away. You gave me away because you don’t want me. You don’t want a son. Now you come back into my life acting like you had to do that.” 

“No of course not. You’re my boy, I love you.”

JJ reached back with an open palm and you took it wordlessly, making sure to stay out of Groff’s view but close enough that JJ knew you were right behind him. “No.. don’t, don’t say that. You don’t know what that means. You don’t even know me. You never were my father. You never even tried.”

“I’m a weak man, JJ. You wouldn’t kill me for that, would you? That’s not you. You’re better than me.”

JJ scoffed and shook his head before holding the rope out to you, which you took albeit confused. You watched as he untied it from the post next to the well, leaving it disconnected from any anchor point. “Being better than you really isn’t that hard. Bye, Dad.”

Without sparing a glance, JJ took a step back from the well to walk away and you stood there as Groff started yelling in protest for him to come back. You glanced back to make sure he was okay, Pope taking the time to hug him tightly, before you made your own decision.

Peeking over the edge of the well, you could barely make out Groff’s figure at the bottom and his voice was suddenly much louder until he stopped at the sight of you.

“Remember me? Daughter you never had but always wanted?” You asked, a teasing smirk making its way to your lips. Pulling the rope closer, you let it fall from your fingers and watched the saving grace hit the ground with a loud smack as Groff winced. 

With a look of disappointment, you sighed to yourself, “You made your bed, now you can lie in it too.”

--

“Careful, we don’t know what we’re walking into.” John B was tense and on guard as he led the group from the car when the path came to an end. Desert stretched out in front of you all, save for a few bare plants that shifted with the wind.

As you all approached the walled entrance to Agapenta, Rafe’s voice carried across the open land. 

“Okay, just take it easy, okay?” The stress in his tone was obvious enough that JJ was pushing against your shoulder to keep you out of view as they surveyed whatever was going on ahead. 

Peeking through the brush, you made out Rafe’s figure with the map dangling from one hand and the lens from the other. His back was toward you all as he spoke with whoever was threatening him as he held his arms in the air. There was just enough room over the makeshift wall that you could make out the mercenary group with their vehicles and weapons.

“They’re gonna kill him,” Cleo mumbled as a few armed mercenaries started approaching Rafe.

Kie scoffed, “Do we care?”

“Yeah, that’s a good question, Pope. Then they’d take the scroll.”

You glanced over at Sarah, the girl obviously torn between the words being said and the fact that Rafe was her brother. He was trying, she could tell, and at this point, that meant enough to her. 

“There are seven of them, they all have rifles.”

JJ’s hand fell from your shoulders. “I know. That’s why we’re gonna need to think outside the box.”

He moved to grab the gun from his waist, checking the bullets in the chamber before loading it. You swallowed thickly, knowing anything that involved JJ and a weapon didn’t tend to go well. 

“Hey.” You grabbed his arm to hold him still for a moment. “This isn’t Call of Duty, okay? We can’t rush into action right now without thinking this through a little.”

Sarah had evidently thought it through enough and grabbed the gun from JJ’s hand to steady in her own grip, the group falling silent as she did so. “That’s my brother.”

The shot rang out, perfectly nailing the fuel tank on one of the mercenary vehicles to cause an explosion. You stared, amazed, before looking at the girl next to you. “Sarah gets the gun from here on out.”

Rafe took off running as more gunshots started to follow and you decided it was probably a good idea to get away from here. Dust kicked up around everyone as you ran, shouts to go faster or change direction coming like rapid fire. 

The sunshine was so warm against your skin and dust coated your throat as you all came up upon the gates with barely enough time to slip through before Pope and JJ slammed the door shut just in time for gunshots to bust through the wood.

“We gotta move,” Kie called out as the boys barricaded the door as best as possible. Somewhere in the chaos, Rafe had managed to land here as well and brought up the rear as the group went running again. 

“Oh shit!” You yelped as a group of sheep were suddenly in the path. They were just as freaked out as you and took off running, giving you enough time to take a deep breath before JJ was grabbing your arm and pulling you to keep moving. 

An almost stumble in his step told you his side was getting irritated from the constant movement and you shifted to push him ahead of you, your hand pressed into his back to keep him going. You came up on a tunnel, Pope and Cleo coming to a stop as the yelling got closer to your location. 

“What are you doing?” JJ slowed to look at the couple, the gun now in Cleo’s hands as John B, Sarah, Kie, and Rafe kept moving.

“We got it, we’ll hold them off,” Pope explained, his hand falling on your back to continue moving you and JJ along. JJ hesitated, hating the idea of splitting up but Pope had already made up his mind. “Hey, let me protect you for once, okay? You’re not the only one who shot teddy bears.”

Cleo gave you a stern look and nudged you in the direction. You gave her an uncertain smile, squeezing her arm in encouragement before you grabbed JJ’s hand in yours and pulled him with you. “Be safe!”

“We’ll be so safe!” Pope called back as they disappeared from view. 

Your chest was heaving, sweat pouring across your skin as the tunnels and stairs weaved their way through the town. Before long, you guys managed to catch up to the others where Rafe so lovingly had John B at knifepoint. 

“What the hell is going on?” You gasped, your hand pressing against your chest where it hurt to breathe as Kiara put her focus on JJ’s now bleeding side. You slid your backpack off, handing it to her wordlessly as she began to sort through the first aid supplied lying within. 

“Rafe, I just saved your life!”

The elder Cameron sibling turned toward her, the knife following as he disagreed. “No, no, no, no, no. You did it so you could steal it from me. There was something in it for you. Not to actually help me, I know that.”

“Rafe, we don’t have time.”

“We can read that, you can’t,” Sarah argued back, completely unphased by the way he was shaking in front of her.

“Why would I help you? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of you, do you understand?” He panted, scanning the room where you all had him basically surrounded. He focused back on Sarah, taking a step closer. “Dad trusted you. You remember what happened to him? Remember?!”

You flinched as he yelled, taking a step back in shock as Sarah pushed Rafe away from her. 

“Dad died saving my life,” She shouted before taking a second to breathe. “And you’re so eager to blame me for everything, you won’t even listen to what happened. Singh’s men had me at gunpoint. I was gonna die. Dad took those bullets for me. And if he was still around, he’d want us to work together. I know you know that.”

Rafe’s angry exterior was dropping with each word and as Sarah’s face crumbled with the recount, he was slowly beginning to think he had it all wrong. Shaking his head, his defensive stance disappeared. “No, you’re just going to screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will.”

“No, no, because I’m all you’ve got,” Sarah reminded him, her voice thick with tears. “And you’re the only family I have left.”

The two siblings stared at each other for a moment, shaking breaths coming from each of them as they spoke through the things that had been left unsaid for almost two years now. You’d never seen Rafe like this, so broken and confused by what he was hearing. 

For so long, Ward had such a deathly grip on Sarah and Rafe both. Rafe had received the brunt of the pressure, as the eldest child and male of the family, Ward used him instead of growing him in a way that a parent should. 

“Alright, if we…uh, if we work together, I still get my cut. So-”

Sarah pushed the scroll aside and fell into her brother’s chest with a sob, her hands wrapping around him tightly. Rafe’s eyes filled with tears at the action, his own arms hesitating before holding her back as the two of them cried together.

Yelling nearby broke apart the peaceful moment, just as Kiara finished rewrapping JJ’s side with fresh bandages after cleaning the skin. She zipped your backpack before returning it, her eyes glancing to where the yelling is coming from. “I hate to break this up, but we need to go.”

John B was quick to get Sarah back to his side, taking her hand protectively as the group shifted out of the room to keep moving. You stayed back with JJ, moving just a bit slower to keep his side from reopening and letting the others gain some lead on you.

“You okay?” You asked as he winced and pressed his hand where the wound was. 

He nodded, letting out a breath. “Just moving a lot. I don’t think fighting the waves was the best idea for it, yeah?”

You shook your head at him, eyes glancing over before you caught sight of a large, dark storm cloud on the horizon. “J? What’s that?”

He looked up and followed your gaze to where the impending issue lied. “Oh fuck. We gotta go.”

Not asking any further questions, you continued up the hill with him until you caught sight of John B, Sarah, Kie, and Rafe. Your brother was holding the map up to the sky, a shaped figure coming back in the reflection of the paper that looked nearly identical to the statue that was up ahead. 

“Crown’s gotta be up there. Come on, let’s go.”

--

a/n: hi i'm so sorry this is short and took forever, just wanted to give a lil something before we get to the next scene

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

[princess-luvvv]

A GOLD RING AND COLD FEET

Rafe Cameron x fem!exgirlfriend!reader

A/N: (This is lowk 4.3k words I’m sorry) Hey guys lol I literally do not know what I’m doing help. I did not proofread idek how to work this app so if this sucks just don’t tell me bc this thing is the biggest pain in the ass lol. Like I am so genuinely sorry I’m such a grandma. Also this is what I listened to while writing this so feel free to listen as well :)

WARNINGS: AUTHOR CANT FIGURE THIS APP OUT, there’s no smut (not going to traumatize you guys with my brain on the first post), girl reader, marriage (basically the whole theme), cheating (sort of from reader but like it’s fine), ermmm just bad writing im sorry lol. Just a man yearning (like good). Okay Im sorry byeee.

14 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: THE BRIDAL SHOWER

Rafe Cameron was going to be the death of me. I knew it.

We had dated for 7 years. He asked me out when we were 14 after knowing each other since we were 6. He broke up with me when we were 21. He said he “couldn’t be tied down in his 20s”.

After that I thought I was completely broken. I had never even imagined loving anyone else - having to love someone else.

But here I was. 14 days away from my wedding to a man I didn’t love. A part of me felt like such an asshole. Marrying a man who I knew I’d never love. But Jackson had his faults. He raised his voice too much. He never opened my door…not since our third date at least. He worked all the time. He regularly forgot important events like anniversaries and birthdays.

We started dating 10 months, 1 week, and 4 days after Rafe broke up with me.

Even though most people said it was time to move on it still felt too soon to me. 3 years later and it still feels too soon sometimes.

But here I am. At my bridal shower. Wearing a silver ring when I haven’t touched a piece of silver jewelry since I was 9.

I was opening gifts when only one remained. A small black box with no tag attached.

“Who is this one from?” I ask the crowd of giddy women surrounding me. They all share confused looks. Shrugging and comments like “It’s not mine” falling from their lips. This only furthered my confusion as I opened the box.

I gasped.

Inside was a beautiful - gold - ring. It was my dream ring.

“Oh my gosh it’s just beautiful!” My best friend Grace said.

“Jackson must have picked it out for you since yours is missing.” Grace says causing me to furrow my brows.

I looked down to my left hand and noticed the absence of my ring.

Since when was that gone?

“Oh yeah…I guess he did.” I smile and tuck the box away. Making a mental note to ask Jackson later. Even though I knew he didn’t get it for me, a part of me hoped.

As my friends went on and on about how beautiful this wedding would be and how happy they were…I couldn’t help but wish their joy was infectious.

At least someone is excited right?

12 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: BACHELORETTE

I was sitting in an expensive restaurant in downtown Charleston sipping a cocktail I’m pretty sure costs more than my salad. Jackson and I had decided to have our Bachelorette/Bachelor parties in the same city in case anything happened. He was out having a guys night while I was out with my girls. I hadn’t had this much fun doing anything wedding related well ever.

“It’s not a coincidence that you think that and Jackson isn’t here” a little voice inside my brain taunts me. But I push it down. Along with the bile rising in my throat. From the alcohol or the impending commitment of forever to a person who I know I don’t love - which, I’m not sure.

“How are you babe?” My friend Ava says as she turns her entire body to face me. I was tracing shapes on the condensation on the outside of my barely touched drink while I tuned out the rest of the chatter.

“I’m wonderful how about you Ava?” I smile and meet her eye. She gives an unconvinced smile and repeats her question: “Come on. How are you really? Cold feet? We can get on the next flight out of America just say the word.” She says with a laugh. And I know she’s joking but part of me is screaming “YES!” Inside of my head.

I laugh and shake my head.

“No cold feet. Just lukewarm maybe.”

Lukewarm. It’s funny cause that’s basically a word that sums up the entirety of Jackson and I’s relationship. I hadn’t felt fire, sparks, passion…any of it. Not since-

“Lukewarm is okay. Marriage is big. But…you’ll be okay.” Ava says cutting off my thoughts. And I can see her trying to hide her real feelings. She wants me to talk to him. Not him. Him.

The him who left me in a hotel room in Key West on what was supposed to be our 8 year anniversary trip. The him who wouldn’t stop sending letters to my house. The him who sent me 127 texts and 87 voicemails since last Tuesday. Which is apparently the day the Cameron’s wedding invitation arrived. I wasn’t going to invite them but I felt I needed to. Sarah and I were still friends and I adored Wheezie. The him who took up every inch of my heart. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself he didn’t.

LATER THAT NIGHT AT THE HOTEL…

I entered my private suite in the hotel. I had gotten my drunk pack of bridesmaids back to their rooms…well the ones that were sleeping in their own rooms tonight. I had my own room this trip. My bridesmaid Lila insisted on it in case Jackson wanted to sneak over from his hotel…that’s what she said. But I knew she secretly wanted to give me my space away from the wedding buzz and events. I was grateful for that.

Until I was not.

Because the second I opened my door and ripped off my crown that said “BRIDE” I looked up and saw a man sitting on the couch in the suites living room. His elbows resting on his large thighs as he hung his head.

He looks up when I walk in.

I should’ve been scared…but I knew exactly who it was.

I flicked on the light. “Rafe what- what are you doing here?” I say in half anger half disbelief. OBX was at least 7 hours from here.

What the hell was he thinking?

“I had to see you…” I shake my head as he stands up and walks towards me. I take a step back.

“No. No. You can’t do this to me.” He walks closer. I put out my hands. Placing them on his chest to keep distance between us.

“Please just hear me out….” He gently grips my wrists that are placed on his chest. He paused for a second. Looking into my eyes to see if I would stop him again. I let him continue.

“I know…I know I have no right to be here. No right to do this. But please just listen to what I have to say…” He sighed before continuing. “You can’t marry him. Baby you can’t….I’m begging you. He doesn’t treat you right. You know that. I have so many regrets in my life…but I’d live them all over a million times if it meant I never let you go. I regret that every breath I take.”

My eyes gloss over. His touch was so gentle unlike Jackson’s. He didn’t raise his voice at me. He didn’t do anything but love me exactly the way I wanted while also being everything I needed.

He sighs seeing my eyes tear up. “Baby don’t- don’t cry….it’s just-….I can tell you’re not happy.” He says as he wipes a tear that escaped my eyes.

“I-I’m happy…” I say weakly.

But I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince. Me or him?

He sighs. Bringing a hand up to my cheek to wipe away another tear. His hand not moving. “You’re not. I can see it. I know you…I see it in your face when you look at him. Those beautiful eyes have never told me a lie.”

“You don’t know me anymore…” another lie. He knew me. He knew me. He knew my coffee order at every coffee shop on the island. He knew my favorite songs and the lyrics to all of them. He knew my favorite movie. He knew my favorite animal.

He laughs softly in disbelief.

“I don’t know you? I know you. I know your order at every Mexican restaurant on the island. I can recite your coffee orders in my sleep. I know every word to your favorite Taylor Swift songs. Your favorite movie is Beauty and the Beast and you love the soundtrack. You love penguins and you’re a dog person. I know you baby.”

I cry harder as he recites everything about me. On surface it’s not much. Small talk topics he could’ve figured out from social media. But it goes so much deeper. He knows what makes me tick. What I need when I’m sad. How to cheer me up even through tears.

If only he could do that now…

“Does that asshole even know your favorite Jane Austen book? Huh? Does he? Cause I do. And it’s Emm-“

“Stop! Just stop Rafe! Just- just go! Why-why are you doing this me? This isn’t fair.” I say wiping my tears. I was full on crying now.

“I can’t just sit back and watch you marry someone who’s not going to make you happy. You deserve so much better. You don’t deserve someone who’s never there for you, or doesn’t treat you well. You deserve someone who treats you exactly how you deserve to be treated - like the woman I love. I know I was stupid to let you go. I was young - and I thought I wanted freedom, but I was wrong. I haven’t known a minute of freedom since you left. I miss you, I miss us. And I need you more than I need air to breathe…”

“Please. Don’t marry him. Please baby…” He’s begging now. I’ve never seen Rafe Cameron beg for anything.

“Rafe I’m-I’m getting married in 12 days I can’t-“ I cut myself off with a sob.

He pulls me against his chest. I don’t protest as I cry harder. Pretty much sobbing now.

I clutch onto the end of his shirt. “I have to marry him Rafe…”

“Why? Why do you have to marry him? You know this isn’t what you want.” He says pleading with me. Running a soothing hand up and down my back. Providing me more comfort than I’ve known all of my relationship with Jackson.

“I know.” I say softly. My voice hoarse.

“Then don’t do it. Don’t marry him. I made the wrong choice a few years ago, but I’m here now. I want you not some false pretense of freedom. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I can give you a ring that you actually like, and a house that we build together. I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t marry him. Be with me.” I pause when he mentions the ring. I look down to the gold ring on my left hand. Silently piecing things together.

“Did you send me a new ring?” I look back up him. Brows furrowed. My face puffy from crying. When I meet his eyes I see how utterly heartbroken he looks. It breaks me a little bit.

“I-uh…yeah I did.” He says. And as he confirms my theory I step away from him. Letting out sobs as I turn my back towards him. One hand cradling my stomach as the other covers my mouth.

“Hey - hey what’s wrong. Talk to me.” He says as he walks up behind me placing a soothing hand on my shoulder letting his hands rub me gently.

“Y-you remembered the ring.” I had shown him the type of ring I wanted back when I thought we were going to get married.

I was so stupid at 20. Or maybe I was just naive.

“Of course I remembered the ring. You showed it to me a million times. I know it was your dream ring and I couldn’t bear the idea of him giving you something you didn’t actually want…” He explains with a confused expression. Not quite sure why it was hurting me so bad.

The thought that he had gotten me a ring I wanted even though he didn’t want me marrying Jackson made me want to cry…and vomit.

“I-I can’t-“ My legs give out and I drop to my knees. Rafe immediately goes down with me. Pulling me into his chest. I was now cradled in his lap as he rocked me gently while I cried.

“Please don’t cry baby….it hurts me so bad.”

That night I fell asleep in Rafes arms.

THIRD PERSON POV:

As Rafe brought her to her hotel bed and tucked her in he couldn’t help but feel the urge to get in bed and hold her as she slept. But he knew how awful she’d feel if she woke up next to him knowing she betrayed Jackson. So he left a note next to her bedside and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving. The words “I love you” mumbled softly as she slept.

ELEVEN DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: THE NEXT MORNING.

THIRD PERSON POV:

As Jackson walks into the hotel room of his future wife he can’t help the guilt eating at him. He brings in the takeout bags and starts to place it onto a tray.

He takes out the water and Advil he got from the pharmacy and brings it over to her bedside.

As he’s placing the hangover cure on her nightstand a paper written on hotel stationery catches his eye.

He reads through the paper.

“All my love, R.C.”

He folds up the note and places it back in his pocket before going back to the takeout bags. Ready to act as if nothing happened.

FIRST PERSON POV

I wake up with an empty feeling in my stomach. The same one I’ve had for 3 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days.

I hear someone walking around the suite and as much as I know it’s probably Jackson…a part of me hopes…

Seconds later Jackson comes into my room with a smile. Holding a tray of food.

Odd. He’s never done sweet gestures for me like this.

“Good morning my love…I thought this would help cure the hangover. I ordered breakfast from that place you like downtown. You always talk about how much you wish we had one back at home so…” As he explains his reasoning for being here the sick feeling grows in my stomach. And I wish it was hangover sickness. I felt like such crap. Here he was being so sweet to me and I cried in the arms of another man last night.

I look around the room for any evidence Rafe was here. Feeling slightly disappointed but relieved that I didn’t find anything.

“Have fun last night?” Jackson says as he picks a blueberry off my plate.

“Uh yeah….it was really fun.” I smile and lie. But he can’t tell the difference so he nods his head before getting up and kissing my forehead.

“Well I have to go into work early tomorrow so the guys and I are heading back home but…I love you.” He says. He rarely says those three words. And that itself wouldn’t be weird. We’re getting married of course we tell each other we love each other. But paired with the weird domestic wake-up I had this morning it left an icky feeling in my stomach. But I smiled and nodded. Swallowing my food before replying.

“Okay…love you too.”

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING DAY: THE REHEARSAL DINNER

“Have you seen my gold earrings?” I ask Jackson. Walking around our shared bathroom while he was shaving. We were getting ready for our rehearsal dinner before we left for the wedding venue in the morning.

“Which earrings?” He asks. Not pausing his movements of shaving his face.

“The ones I always-“ I huff in defeat knowing it’s no use. I’ve worn those earrings everyday for the past 9 years. They were Rafe’s 2 year anniversary gift to me.

I walk around the bedroom looking under a few things before my phone pings distracting me for a second. I walk over to it and turn the screen over to see an Instagram DM message request.

“Hey…I want to say I am so sorry to do this to you. I know you’re getting married in 2 days but there’s something you should know…”

THREE HOURS UNTIL WEDDING DAY: THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING

I was pacing around the cabin of my private room on the property of our venue.

The venue was a family owned property on the mainland. It was gorgeous. Jackson was in the cabin across the venue in the Groom’s cabin. I was staying in the Bridal lodge.

I felt nauseous. My throat felt like it was closing and the white matching way too expensive PJ set I was gifted especially for tonight felt like it was constricting my air. The cabin suddenly felt stuffy and like the walls were about to close in at any minute. I was all alone.

I pull out my phone quickly going to the only number I had on speed dial.

He picks up on the first ring - he always does.

RAFES POV

The whole day I had been sulking at home watching football and drinking whiskey. My lab Daisy sitting by my side as she watched me drown my sorrows.

Was she really going to marry him?

I had dozed off for a few hours before a phone ringing woke me up.

I look at the screen and immediately picked up.

“I need you.” I was standing up running to my shoes before the sentence was even over.

“I’m coming baby…I’m on my way just stay put okay?” Her shaky voice was breaking my heart. I grabbed my keys and made an hour long drive less than 40 minutes.

FIRST PERSON POV

I was sitting with my knees tucked to my chest. My eyes puffy and crying, sitting at the edge of the bed when Rafe barged in. He immediately dropped to his knees next to me. Pulling me into his lap. Cradling me as he rocked me back and forth.

“I’m here baby…I’m here.” He repeats the words like a mantra to ease my mind. And it does. But it doesn’t fill the pit in my stomach that seems to have taken a permanent residence.

“Talk to me baby…please you’re scaring me…” I could hear the fear in his voice. And I felt like such a dick. I called my ex boyfriend to help me the night before my wedding to another man.

I’m the worst.

“I-I’m so sorry….I didn’t know who else to call.” I get out between sobs. He shakes his head. Grabbing my face with both of his hands.

“Shhh….I just need you to tell me what you need. I’m right here. Just tell me how to help. Okay?”

How does he always know what to say? It’s ridiculous.

“I need out of this…” And at that sentence Rafe was pretty sure he could’ve cried a happy tear. But he needed to be sure.

“Out of what baby?” He knew. But he needed to know.

“You know what.” I pause before continuing. Sniffling and wiping my tears. “Jackson cheated on me. His bachelor party…she texted me the night our rehearsal dinner. She was their bartender in Charleston. But that’s not even the worst part…” I shake my head in disbelief at myself. “The worst part is I don’t even care. My fiancée cheated on me less than two weeks before our wedding. And I can’t find it in me to care.”

I knew I never loved Jackson. And that’s part of why I was marrying him. Because I knew that if I never loved him he’d never be able to hurt me…not like Rafe did at least.

I continue:

“I’m literally incapable of loving him because every inch of my heart belongs to you. And it kills me. I should be devastated right now. But- but all I can think is that I need you. And it’s so cold and you hate driving at night but this is the second time you’ve driven over an hour for me in two weeks.”

In reality it didn’t take Rafe an hour to get here. But he let me continue anyways.

“I’m terrible-“ He cuts me off.

“No. You’re perfect. I know you think you have to settle for this but you don’t. I’m not leaving you. I’ll always be here. Whether or not you get married in 12 hours I’m always going to be there when you need me. I don’t care what it is or where you are. You call and I’m there. You need me…and I’m right here baby. I’ll always be right here. I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

I look at him as he says that. And suddenly nothing about this makes sense. Why am I getting married to Jackson?

He sucks.

I stand up. Grabbing Rafes hands pulling him up with me.

“We need to leave.” I look around the room at my things. Rafe immediately nods and starts packing my things into my suitcase with me.

“Where do you need to go? I’ll take you anywhere baby. Car? Train? Plane? Boat? Fuck I’ll swim across the Atlantic for you baby.”

I pause and glance up at him from across my suitcase that we’re both knelt over. I meet his gaze. His eyes show me nothing but seriousness. Standing 10 toes behind his words. I wrap an arm around his neck and place an arm on his shoulder to steady myself as I lean in and kiss him.

He’s so taken aback but he kisses back after realizing this isn’t another one of his dreams that have felt like nightmares these past 3 years.

I pull away and he slightly sighs at the disconnect.

“Anywhere that’s not here. Just need to be with you. Please.”

2 HOURS UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: AN HOUR LATER ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT

I look around the room once more to make sure I have everything.

“You got everything you need baby?” He asks me and I nod.

“I’m gonna take this to the car.” I was carrying my pillow and blanket I had brought. Rafe insisted on carrying my bags. He nods but stays in his place before speaking up.

“Okay I’ll be there in a second I’m gonna take one last look around.” I nod before walking to his truck and getting inside.

THIRD PERSON POV:

Rafe pulls the object out of his pocket. Placing it on the dresser.

He grabs her bags taking one last look at the wedding dress hanging on the closet door before shutting the door behind him.

The silver ring shimmering in the moonlight sitting on the dresser where he left it.

FIRST PERSON POV

Rafe gets back in the car and looks over at me.

“If you change your mind I don’t mind-“ I cut him off.

“I’m not changing my mind. Now drive.” He smiles before putting the truck in reverse.

As we drive for a few minutes a question plagues my mind: Why didn’t he say anything the morning after the bachelorette party?

“Can I ask you something?” He glances over at me. He had a comforting hand on my thigh as he drove.

“Anything.” I smile at his answer while look at my lap before continuing.

“Why didn’t you say anything the morning after that night in Charleston? Not a text or a note or anything? I know you didn’t have to I just…hated waking up with no evidence that you had even been there.” Rafe’s brows furrow.

I did leave a note. He thought to himself.

“Baby I left a note on your dresser…didn’t you see it?” He says confused.

“No…the next morning I woke up and Jackson was…” I trailed off. Suddenly piecing everything together. Rafe seemed to as well. His grip on the wheel tightened and his jaw clenched.

“I left a note. I promise. But it’s not anything I won’t tell you to your face everyday for the rest of our lives. So don’t worry about it, pretty. Okay? I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Rafe.” And I truly meant it.

On the way to the airport we sang along to Taylor Swift songs we both knew. And suddenly the pit in my stomach was slowly being filled with laughter and the way he didn’t even ask me what I wanted when we stopped at McDonald’s.

To be loved it to be seen. And I had to have been invisible to Jackson.

23 MINUTES UNTIL THE WEDDING DAY: AT THE AIRPORT 11:37 PM

“Flight 237 is now boarding. This is the final call for passengers to LaGuardia Airport.”

Rafe looks at me as we get ready to board the plane.

“You ready?” He sticks out his hand. I smile at him.

“Yeah…I’m ready.” I take his hand and lean up and kiss him as we walk onto the plane.

I glance down at the gold ring on my finger. And I realize no one will ever see me as clearly and perfectly as Rafe sees me. And that’s all I could ask for.

“Hey” he looks back at me. Glancing up from his sports magazine. His brows raised waiting for me to answer.

“I love you.” I continue and smile. His gaze softens and he pulls me into another quick kiss. I hated PDA but I didn’t care. Not with him.

“I love you more than I can even describe.” He pauses before continuing. “If I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more.”

I don’t know a lot…but I know I’ve found my person. And everything’s okay. And for the first time in 3 years, 7 months, 4 weeks, and 2 days…I felt like I could breathe.

[mimiiis]

Must Be Love Pt.1 — Regency Au! Price x Fem! Reader

summary: A general looking to marry for duty and a girl looking for a love match, what could go wrong?

warnings: n/a

work count: 5.9k

a/n: this was low-key supposed to be a small series of blurbs but I couldn't help myself, full on fic/series !! hope you guys enjoy </3

I’ve been rewatching Bridgerton and got to thinking…Regency!Price.

General John Price, who has come back to London during the marriage season to find himself a wife after deciding it was about time for him to do so. It just so happens to be that you are a new debutante, foisted out onto the marriage market and ready to be wed. 😚🤭

☆☆☆

The General had just recently returned to London, ready to marry and not hesitant to announce his intentions on what brought him back into the city. It was not long until everyone got the word that he was looking for a bride. Respectable men were not entirely few and far in the ton, but to find a truly accomplished man who came from a respected family was almost rare. Where most men were seen coming in and out of brothels almost daily , John Price was hardly seen indulging in such…pleasures. But in fairness, he was away from the watchful eyes of society for many periods of time, and no one knew much about him. With his return and new step into the marriage market, it is the first ball of the season that changed everything in his life. 

The first ball was always so exciting, uncertainty of what the night may bring lurked at every corner of the room. Ladies practically flocked to him, their mamas right behind them as he struggled to fill out each dance card he was presented with. The general was more than polite, making his intentions clear and being his usually charming self. The ladies giggled and flirted, trying to impress him with their many accomplishments and the status of their families. He would simply nod and listen to them ramble with each passing dance. Though as the night drew on longer, the more he began to worry. 

He hadn’t truly realized how hard it would be to properly court a woman in his position. He knew that as general he would not be with his wife for long, that he would be away longer than he would ever be with her. He saw no point in growing an attachment, inevitable heartbreak and hate would follow if he did. Every young lady he talked to seemed too eager, practically begging to be loved and adored. He knew he would have to find a wife willing to accept the conditions that awaited, someone he can establish a decent, or even good, relationship with. It did not hurt him to turn down several young ladies, he knew it was for the better. Yet somewhere, deep inside of his heart, he ached for the same kind of fondness they did. 

☆☆☆

The ballroom erupted in a wave of applause and laughter as the dance finished, your chest heaving after performing the lively routine. The young lord you had entertained left with a bow, kissing your hand before leaving to go grab himself a cup of punch. You smiled at him, bidding him a good night before walking to your mama. Droplets of sweat formed at the corners of your hair, slowly falling down your skin as you tried to hide away behind your mother. She stood at the corner of the room, hidden away by a crowd of people who rushed by. 

“What did you think of him? Lord Langley?” She asks you, handing you her fan as you plant your back against the wall. You quickly take it, opening it and blowing air in your direction as you finally took what felt like your first breath in hours. Your cheeks burned as your feet ached from dancing for so long. You could feel the boning of the corset digging into your skin as you slouched over slightly. 

“He is kind. Rather handsy. Not an exact fit.” You breathe out, still winded as your mother placed a handkerchief against your forehead. “None of them will be, my dearest, if you keep holding them up to such an impossible standard.” She states, grabbing you by your shoulders as straightening your posture. You groan, letting her smooth out your crinkled skirts out and continue to wipe off the sweat from your brow. 

“I know what I want and I will not hesitate to find it.” You argue back, pushing her hands away from you. You step back a few paces, giving yourself more room to breathe. You hadn’t considered how stuffy a ballroom might feel with more than half of the ton packed into a tight space. It almost made your head spin, a slight ache creeping up at the back of your head. Dread began to fill you at the impending headache, but you shook your head in an attempt to ignore it. 

“You will spend a lifetime searching if you do not let it come naturally.” She tells you, shaking her head. You eye her, considering her words before you catch sight of a footman walking by. Your mother watches you reach for a glass of champagne from his tray, slapping your hands away the second you move them. You gasp, glaring at her as she dismisses the man away. 

“That is not fair-“

“You can drink to your heart's content when you are married.” She argues, locking her arm in yours as she begins to pull you back into the eyes of society. So much for a few minutes to hide away. “You really must consider and think about a second plan. What will happen if you cannot find the love match you so desperately desire, hm? What then?”

You groan once more, embarrassment heating heating your cheeks. Her speech and the way she still talked to you as if you were a child sent a wave of shame over you. You wanted to crawl back into the corner of the room, to get away from her at any cost as she continued to scold you for having “such impossible standards.” But you cannot, not after you spent so long convincing her to even allow you to have a say in who you married. She gives you an inch, might as well take a mile. 

“There is no second plan. I will get what I want, no matter how long it takes me.” You stubbornly reply, voice in a hushed whisper as you politely smile at other young ladies passing by. “What is so hard about finding a love match anyways? Is it simply not the process of meeting someone and just knowing? That is how you described what happened to you with father, I will not settle for anything less.” 

“It is…much more than just that.” She repeats the same words she always has, never elaborating further. For the woman meant to help you through the marriage season, she was certainly not helpful. You glance at her for a second, the usual disappointment filling you. You start to search the dance floor for a man to sweep you back up into the crowd. Anything to get away from her right now. You watch as all the lords and men you had previously danced with talk and laugh amongst themselves or other young ladies, your own friends being taken up with suitors or being pulled to one by their mamas. It was a never ending sea of controlled chaos, dresses swishing and feet stomping as the sea of dancing color passed you.

“Where is Johnny?” Your mother suddenly asks. The arm she had locked with your slips away and rises to your shoulder, helping her balance as she begins to stand on her tiptoes, looking over the crowd around you two. “Shall he really miss your first ball?” Her brows furrow, scanning every corner of the room before falling back onto her heels. You shake your shoulder, brushing her hand off of you as the topic of your brother sours your mood. “I do not think Jonny cares about the affairs of young ladies.”

“Do not be so negative, he is your brother-“

“And he still does not care.” You say with a bite in your tone, making your mother furrow her brows, but you only continue you scan the room for a way out of her grasp.

It took a few seconds, but you finally caught sight of a man one of your friends said was serious about his courtship this year. “Besides, he need not bother himself with my business unless a suitor is asking for my hand, yes?” You flash her a faux smile as you slowly begin to pull away from her side. “I am going to get a glass of punch, I will be back.” You told her before hurriedly walking and escaping between the cracks of the surrounding crowd to get away from her. You walked as fast as you could without raising any alarm to others, her shouts and protests falling on deaf ears as you managed a good distance between the two of you. You were able to get across the dance floor and near the table of desserts, not stopping until you found a rather hidden corner to further disappear into. 

You sigh and giggle to yourself as you look back, making sure she was not following and in fact far from you. A smile creeps up onto your lips as you watch her try to carefully push through the crowd. She excuses herself, getting stopped by other Ladies and Mamas on her way towards you. Frustrating builds on her face, eyes glancing every second back to you as she is forced to make small talk. A giggle leaves your lips as you watch the aftermath of your small victory. You straighten your shoulders and hold your head high as you walk backwards, keeping an eye and planning on disappearing from her view when she looks away once more. But the moment is short lived as you suddenly bump into someone. 

Your back crashes into an elbow, the bone hitting between your shoulder blades and causing you to groan at the sudden pain, back going stiff and straight as a slight ache begins to spread throughout. You yelp, whipping your body around and groaning at the discomfort the swift movement caused. You begin to stutter out apologies, explaining how you didn’t know where you were, how you weren’t looking and all sorts of nonsense without even looking at who you were speaking to. The words jumbled together into a string of incoherent mumbles, but your mouth stops when you finally look up. Your body freezes, mouth falling into a small ‘o’ as you look at the man before you. It's strange, you would assume to find a frown and displeased face looking at you. But to your surprise, the man seems to give you the kindest smile, and breathes out the softest of laughs. 

Your eyes meet his, and you can't recall ever having seen someone look at you so… fondly? He was tall, a strong and fit body, shoulders stiff and broad as the deep red of his suit makes him look all the more alluring. His hair was brushed back though it still appeared as a soft mess when paired with the beard he sported. You had never put much thought into what you would think a real man would be like, but good god, if he was not it. You continue to study him, practically entranced by the way he looks, until you see his lips begin to part in question and quickly snap out your thoughts, shaking your head and closing your still slightly agape mouth. “Apologies, Sir, I truly did not see you.” You bow your head slightly and part your eyes from his. 

He smiles and replies, “It is quite alright, Miss.” His voice was deep and gruff, the sound made your knees want to buckle. “Are you hurt? I myself must apologize for not having seen you either,” he looks at you with worry, remembering how harshly you bumped into him. “Ah!” You exclaim, suddenly feeling a slight discomfort between your shoulders but quickly dismissing it. “I’m simply a bit shaken, that’s all. Though I must ask if I did not hurt you either, my lord..?” Your voice drifts off in question, waiting for the man to introduce himself. 

The sound of the title has him letting out a small huff of a laugh,“I am not a lord, Miss, but a general. General John Price, Miss. Mr.Price would do just fine if you do not mind,” He replies with a small shake of his head and a hint of amusement in his voice. Embarrassment immediately fills you as his words process in your head. Your cheeks heat and eyes widen and the urge to crawl into the deepest hole you can find consumes you as more apologies spill from your lips. “I-I’m sorry I didn't mean to-! It is just that so many of the men present here are lords and the title has become a natural response to say to any man I speak to that I-agh!” You stutter and ramble on again, but soon stop yourself from further embarrassment by placing a hand on your awfully loud mouth. “I must stop.” Your eyes look away from what you expect to be a judgemental or annoyed gaze this time, but when you glance back up, it is still neither of those.

“I must admit I had grown rather tired of not being able to get away from you young ladies this evening, but out of all I have spoken to today, you seem to be the most amusing.” He jokes, that laugh of his loud and brighter than before. The sound makes you relax and a sense of comfort washes over you. The rest of the world seems to drown in the sound and sight of him. A man with a large presence and contagious energy, how had you not seen him?  You watch the way his chest rises and falls in his chuckles and how he slightly throws his head back with each “hah”. Before you know it, your hand is falling from your mouth.

“Oh, is that so? I must say the same for the men, you all are at every corner and yet I haven’t found a single one worthy of a good conversation.” You joke back, a playful smirk making its way onto your lips. His smile widens at your comment and the same spark of mischief in your eye ignites in his.

“Truly? Have they all been so boring?”

“Terribly so, I could not even last a minute speaking to them.”

“I must apologize for my fellow men then, for they do not seem up to the challenge of courtship.” 

You giggle at his words, he chuckles in return. “Of that you are right, Sir. In fact, I do not think I’ve ever wished for interesting company to arrive so much as now.” You jest. 

“It seems we are both in luck then. For here I am with you. And you, with me.” The humorous tone of his voice drifts into one of sincerity, flirtatiousness. The hair at the back of your neck rises and your back straightens at the shift in mood. You gulp, feeling his eyes on you, looking at you– truly looking at you now. “Here we are.” 

Your eyes meet once more, only neither of you look away or speak this time. You’ve had to look into the eyes of many men this evening, and you’ve found the saying of the eyes being windows to a person's soul to be true. You could tell when a man only wanted a marriage for money or influence, how they felt about the young lady they were dancing with, who they truly wanted and set their sights on even with a glance. And the way he looked at you, oh it scared you. You can’t recall someone ever looking at you like this. It made your breath catch, heart race, and wonder if the truth in his eyes was not a lie. There was a glint of light in the blue of his eyes, and you realize the look he’s giving you. Almost as if you amuse him, as if he likes you. And you find yourself feeling the same.

It’s as if the realization dawned on both of you at the same time, the mutual attraction, for a comfortable silence soon followed. You both continue to stare, smiling as the two of you seem to breathe in time together. Waiting…Waiting to ask or be asked the same question. Will you dance with me? 

You wanted this to happen, it is what you were looking for. To feel that click, the instant gravitation to one person in a sea of people, and it was here. Standing right in front of you– only you were not prepared for how it would feel. You wanted to revel in it, shout at the top of your lungs ‘I told you I could!’ to your mother and friends who said you that what you wanted was impossible. Here, in front of you, the moment you’ve waited for. All that was left was for either of you to seal it, to grab each other's hand and spend the night talking, to form a proper and real courtship. The possibility made your heart flutter, though only off of a feeling and small conversation, you think you found what you were looking for. But you could only have peace for so long. A hand suddenly wraps itself around your arm and pulls your attention away from the man in front of you. Your damned mother. “General Price, how nice it is to see you!” The woman exclaims in surprise, her arm yanking your body behind her and away from him. ‘You were being improper’ she would later say. The General’s eyes widen at the sudden interruption, but he is quick to compose himself with a smile and nod of his head. “My lady,” he greets her.

“I see you have met my daughter, I do hope she has not been bothersome, she has a rather… colorful personality!” Your mother snides, a false laugh falling from her lips as you roll your eyes. 

“Of course not, she and I were having a rather enjoyable conversation.” He replies, eyes drifting to yours. You let out a weary smile, facial expression screaming “I am sorry!” as best as you could. His gaze softens at you in understanding before in looking back to your mother and further exchanging formalities with her. How are you, where have you been, and other such things they discuss before it is cut to a quick end by the woman. 

“It has been a pleasure to see you again, good Sir, but I am afraid it is time for my daughter and I to retire. I do hope we will see you again.” She smiles, looking your way to give you a stern look, ‘let’s go’ she seems to say. You nod lightly, watching as they exchange goodbyes before your mother leaves to fetch the carriage.

You watch her go and before long the two of you are alone again, standing in a rather awkward air after your mother had interrupted your previous conversation. Neither you say anything, trying to find the words as your feet shuffle in tune with that of the music. You play with your fingers, pulling and twisting at them, unsure of what to say before seeing the man open his mouth. 

“For how short it was, I did enjoy our talk.” He says sincerely. 

You grin, cheeks heating at the simple words. “I do hope you choose to call.” You nod your head politely, watching him do the same before walking away. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, eyes widening in shock the second your back is turned to him. Your first day, your first night and ball as a debutant, and you think you may have found a man you would like to marry. Foolish wishing, others would tell you if they knew you thought this. So you never shared it. You would not whisper it to a soul, but keep it inside a pocket of your heart only to be spoken until the wish comes true. 

It is not long until you are on your way back home, sitting across from your mother in your carriage. The street lights illuminate the carriage as you pass through town, the fabric of your dress shining as you play the flimsy material along your thighs. You yawn, sleeping creeping and taking over you from the change of chaos to quiet tranquility. You’re slouching forward, the ache in your back growing and not letting you sit straight. 

 Your mother scolded you, but laughed, when you told her why it hurt to do so. You rolled your eyes before looking out the window and thinking of Mr. Price. You wanted to ask your mother how they knew each other, why she pulled you away so quickly, what she thought of him. But you spoke not, shaking the thoughts out of your head and happy enough with the idea that you will see him again tomorrow. A love match to be made.

☆☆

General John Price tiredly makes his way to the far end of White’s furnished bar. The club had a signature smell of tobacco and thick wood polish, smoke and cups of brandy filled his vision in a stark contrast to the flowery and bright ballroom he had just made his way from. To be fair, he did not want to come here so late in the night, but an old friend invited him and the man was not one to break a promise. He approached a group of men at a far back table, all talking over a game of cards with several cups half full and empty scattered across the table. John made his way towards the chair on the farthest end, giving the man who sat in it a good strong pat. 

“Johnny boy!” He greets. The man in the chair looks back, jumping in surprise before a wide smile appears as he realizes who is in front of him. 

“Price! I dinnae think you’d come, old man.” The man, Johnny, exclaims before standing to properly shake and give the General a hug. They share a laugh and exchange pleasantries before Johnny introduces him to the other Lords who he was previously talking to. Price recognized a few from the ball, he had wondered where they had wandered off so early. 

“I assume yer awfully tired from havin’ many young girls stepping on yer toes tonight, aye?” Johnny jokes, leading Price away from the group and to the bar. He orders them a whiskey each, the glasses clinking as they share a toast to the older man’s coming back to town. Price shakes his head lightly, “I will admit that I underestimated just how…draining this prospect would be.” John sighs, downing the glass in front of him with one gulp. He plays with the rim of his glass and watches the remaining drops swirl in the dim light of the room, he thinks of how many young ladies there were and it was only the first night. Each was as pretty and delicate as a flower, bright smiles and rosy cheeks but altogether, desperate and grasping onto any man who looked their way. Though he could not blame them, it was what they were born and raised to do, it was all they knew to do.

“Exactly why I haven’t taken on the task myself. Yer stronger than I’ll ever be Cap’in,” Johnny chuckles, taking a sip from his own glass. “Did you meet a lass you might set your sights on?”  The younger man grins, nudging the elder as he notices his eyes drifting down in thought at the question. 

“I found a Miss I am to call on tomorrow. She seems agreeable, timid but with a sense of humour and not as” he pauses to find the right word, “eager as the other ladies. Though her mother stepped in before I could invite her for a dance. Does not matter, we have a whole season to talk and dance and do what people do in courtship. If all goes well, I may have a wife soon.” Price says, going back to fidgeting with his glass. As he looks at it though, he can't help but think about the girl. From the way they met, to her mannerisms, she truly did intrigue him. Only now that he looked back on their interactions does he feel as if he forgot something. He moves the glass back and forth, watching the light seep through and glimmer– trying to remember something important he has forgotten but cannot seem to place. 

“A Mrs.Price, at last!” Johnny exclaims, Price rolls his eyes. “And do tell, my dear friend, what is her name?” 

John freezes at the words. His eyes widened and head rising in a swift motion. He stares at Johnny, shock and realization written all over. That’s what he forgot. Johnny catches on immediately, eyes widening with his friends. 

“Dinnae tell me…” 

“I did not catch it.” 

The men look at each other a second longer before Johnny begins to shake his head. “Now how in the hell do ye forget to ask a lass her name, John? You’re the general, for christ sakes, aren’t ye supposed to have a strategic battle plan for everything ye do?” He lets out a dramatic sigh, brows furrowing and going to rub his temples in disappointment. Price slouches and rubs his eyes with his palms, trying to wipe away the fog of his mind. 

“I figured I did not need to ask as I knew her mother, she was an old family friend. It has just occurred to me I never knew who she married. The girl and I met in a rather odd situation as well, I didn't even have time to ask her.” 

Johnny slowly chuckles in disbelief at his words, “That poor girl is going to be truly devastated when you don’t show up tomorrow morning.”

“Mactavish,” John says his name sternly, eyeing the younger man in warning. 

Johnny holds his hands up in surrender, before grabbing his unfinished glass of whiskey and downing the remaining contents. The men sit together in silence, waiting and thinking for a kind of solution to help with the unfortunate circumstance. 

“I tell ye what,” Johnny interrupts after a few moments, “My sister, she’s in her first year as a debutante and friends with almost half of the lassies in Mayfair. Come over in the morning, and I believe we can ask for her help identifying your bonnie, aye?” 

The proposal interested John enough to consider it, to think of how it would play out. “She would not mind?” 

“Nay, all I’ve got to do is tell her yer a friend, that’ll put you off as a potential suitor and help yer little predicament.” Johnny grins, with teeth, for having thought of the idea. In all fairness, it was not the best or brightest plan, but who is John Price, a General of the British Armies to say no to a friend simply trying to help him. 

☆☆☆

You awake at the crack of dawn, a giddy and anxious feeling bubbling in the pit of your belly from the second you opened your eyes. It was with you the whole morning– as your maid helped you dress, as you ate breakfast, as you talked to your mother and brother of what bachelors you predict may come to call. 

“Lord Harding was quite taken with you last night, my dear. As well as Lord Langley and even Mr. Anderson, their mothers and I spoke of what a handsome match you would be with either of them. They are agreeable men, are they not Johnny?” Your mother says, sitting across from you on a plush settee and drinking a cup of tea. Johnny, who was sitting in the chair nearest to the window and farthest from you replies with a nod. “Aye, though Anderson’s got a taste for losing a pretty sum every time he’s at the club.” He comments, looking out the window as if waiting for something. Your mother lets out a small ‘ah’ and nods her head at the information. You roll your eyes and manage to bite your tongue. It was too exciting of a day to waste your energy bickering with him. 

“I talked to another gentleman as well last night.” You share instead. Johnny turns his head toward you, slightly tilted in questions.  

“Aye, did ye?” Johnny questions you, doubt in his voice. He looks back out the window when the noise of a carriage passes by– not even bothering to hear your answer. “Yes, I did. He was kind, kinder than the other men I talked to all night.” You reply, brows furrowing and staring daggers at him. “Oh please, darling, I hardly doubt he’d come today. You did not share a dance, or even speak for that long.” Your mother says, making you slightly frown and look to her. 

“Perhaps after your next meeting he shall come to see you. And does he not seem a bit older to you? Would you not prefer a younger man, closer to your age? Remember, we have the whole of the season to find you a match, my love. Try not to think of him and focus on the men who do come today, yes?” You sigh, fighting your frown from deepening at her words. You try to slouch in your corset (which was pulled tighter today) to help the still aching injury on your back. Your mother catches you and lets out a ‘tsk’, a reminder that she is watching your every move. You almost start to argue with her, already upset and bothered. Your mouth opens and brows furrow but are interrupted before you can get any words out. 

‘Excuse me,” Johnny suddenly coughs. “But it appears as if we already have guests.” He slowly stands from his chair and makes his way to sit next to your mother. They would be your chaperones for the evening and any other event for the season. You know that he would rather not be here, but your mother had to remind him of his duty. To you, and to the family.

“How exciting! Now remember,” Your mother exclaims before assessing you with her eyes, “smile, be kind, and do not push too hard on the whole…love match aspect. We want our guests to feel welcome and to get to know them, yes?” You nod obediently, not minding her words. Such control, the woman wanted. From your hair to your shoes and dress, she tried her best to dress and present you as a pretty doll. “Yes, mother.” You nod once more, your lip forming into a thin line of a smile as you manage to sit up straight and mentally ready yourself. 

Many suitors came to call, the room filling with men and the sound of laughter as the day went on. They brought you flowers, boxes of chocolate, and some even went as far as bringing you a pair of earrings with your favorite jewels. The room was filled with gifts and men by noon, the energy and rushing making you grow weary by the third gentleman caller. It was strange, having so many eyes on you and being the center of attention. To have men try to entertain you with their small talk and aspirations in marriage and life, hoping you’d pick and entertain them back. 

Through it all, you kept thinking of Mr.Price. In the few minutes you spoke together, it did not feel like this at all. You wondered if it would be the same in your next meeting, if you would be tense or if he would be as welcoming as before. Every time a suitor left or came, you looked toward the door for any sight of him. You wanted to sight in disappointment each time you did not see him. The ache in your back only reminded you of him furthermore which each movement you made, his presence there even if he wasn’t. 

The whole of the morning felt so unnatural. Saying all the practiced and calculated responses your mother taught you, not like you at all. Even watching her speak to the callers, seeing her smile and compliment you so kindly felt like you were a part of some grand facade and did not know your role in it. As exciting as it was, it was also quite terrifying. The mountain of expectations was a weight you could not shake off of your shoulders.

It was strange to think, but to find any kind of normality throughout it all, you looked to Johnny. He sat at the window seat again, glancing over to watch you and your mother every few seconds, just as before. His presence grounded you, even if distant. While your mother put on an act, he was still himself. Your distant, kind but irritating, brother. 

You were in the middle of speaking to your mother's preferred suitor, Lord Harding, when you saw Johnny rise from his seat and excuse himself from the room. Your eyes follow him, and you can’t help but feel a small sense of disappointment and sadness watching him go. Of course he wouldn’t stay. You thought to yourself, but quickly shake the thought from your head and continue your conversation with the man beside you. 

“The gardens in my family home are quite beautiful, each rose bush having been planted and cared for since the start of my family's lineage. My mother hopes to host a ball near the end of the season, I hope I am able to show them to you soon.” The man says to you, his voice sincere and kind.The gentleman was kind and respectful, young and handsome with a sort of boyish charm that made talking to him a bit easier than the other callers. “I would be most delighted to.” You reply with a smile, ready to ask him more about his family home when you see your brother walk back into the room from the corner of your eye. You hadn’t expected him to come back, much less with a guest. You move your body slightly, turning to see who it was he came back with. 

What you saw next, you did not expect.The sight shocks you. Your eyes widen, a gasp leaves you, and your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you realize who was with your brother. Your mother, who has been sitting across from you, follows your line of sight. Her eyes widen slightly as well, before a sigh leaves her lips. 

Johnny’s guest locked eyes on you the second he stepped in the room.

“Mr.Price.” The name leaves your mouth before you can even think. 

“Miss…Mactavish.” He looks just as shocked as you were. His eyes widen, but the same soft smile from last night makes its way upon his lips.

“What?” Johnny cuts in. You both look towards him the second he speaks. Confused, and almost upset, Johnny's eyes meet yours. You open your mouth, ready to explain, but he only looks back to the man at the door. 

Now, you have seen him upset a handful of times, but in those times you knew what to do. Knew what to say, knew when to walk away.  But looking at him look at Price, all you could do was hold your breath. 

Oh hell. 

Thank you for reading </3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!!

A/n: This chapter was meant to be a bit silly, but im not sure if i was able to do it that well🥲 Also my first time writing a Scottish accent for Johnny! Apologies if i got anything wrong. More to come soon and I hope you all enjoyed 🩵💖!!

[majoryeager104]

Crush! Part 1 | Part 2

the x reader I mentioned at the end of this post!

I’m sorry this is so late Ik I said I’d write it same day and I DID but couldn’t finish it bc I was wracking my brain last second and my phone still has a screen time limit 💀💀💀 so then I was gonna finish and drop it last night, but then my dad went on a FOUR HOUR TANGENT ABOUT HISTORY. 😀😀😀 so once again I’m so sorry but

anywhoooo enjoy!

warnings:, pure fluff

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It was an average day of sulking around the league hideout. Shigaraki, Twice, and Dabi were the ones currently present, and you were off on a job with Toga. Dabi had watched as you left, and decided not to disappear too until you got back. Maybe he was worried, or maybe he was keeping tabs on everyone. Even Shigaraki wasn’t entirely sure.

Anyways, the lot of them were chatting, with Dabi remaining quiet most of the time, at least until you were brought up. “Y/n’s been a great help since joining us!” Twice chirped, and Shigaraki quietly agreed. This caused Dabi to scoff. “Y/n can barely work alone, let alone be useful.” And that was when Twice got to work defending you.

“hey!! Y/n is a very hard worker!- you’re just jealous aren’t you- You know, I bet y/n would have loved to work with you on this mission! She likes you- she despises you SHUT UP”

Twice continued to argue with himself, and the other two went quiet, at least until Shigaraki turned to look at Dabi with a mischievous grin. Dabi bristled, stepping back. “Yeah whatever.” He snapped, turning on his heels and quickly leaving the room.

Maybe he was overreacting, maybe he was merely confused, but unlike everything else this team had thrown at him, he hadn’t expected this. You? Liked him? He scoffed at the thought as he walked down the street. Why was this such a bother to him? Why was he blushing so much? This was stupid. So stupid. You were stupid. Stupid for liking him, stupid for telling twice of all people- at least if you’d come and admit it to him yourself, Dabi could have let you down gently, he’s not a complete monster- but now he felt like he had no options to do so, and he wasn’t sure why.

So as he was walking down the street away from the hideout, and spotted you and Toga walking happily together through the crowds, he felt like he had no other option than to turn on his heels once again and go down the alley to his left, taking a detour because how the hell was he supposed to face you knowing you had feelings? It was embarrassing, and illogical, and the very thought was like a big nuisance pent up in his brain, he couldn’t stand it.

So, he lay low for a while, walking along the streets as it got later and later in the evening. He’d received messages from the league, asking for updates on where he’d gone, hell, he got one from you. Usually he appreciated your check ins- you were always so kind to him even over text- but now, your kind words felt nothing but heavy.

But wait.

he could use this, couldn’t he?

I know I mentioned he ‘wasn’t a complete monster’ earlier, and he’s not….but he is a bit of a menace. he could leverage your feelings, use that affection to achieve a few goals of his. Maybe it was terrible, sure, but it was the only way he knew of to push away the weird feelings he got just thinking about the idea of you liking him. It was becoming nauseating.

So, he walked back to the hideout, opening the door to the usual loud chatter of the group. Now he was noticing the way your head spun around to see him first, the way your eyes lit up and you smiled. Oh god, this was gonna be harder than he thought. But he straightened his jacket, and smirked in return, because it was worth a try, right?

and so you approached him, hoping for some small talk, which is when he realized that Twice hadn’t mentioned his little slip. Of course. So, he figured the best way to go about this, was to flirt.

Over the next ten minutes, he tried it, and came to understand that this wasn’t the greatest idea either. Between him leaning in way too close, smirking like an idiot to the point he was so embarrassed he resorted to fidgeting, and him seeing your raised brow and utterly confused and unaffected expression, it was clear that he had no chance of winning. It got to a point where you’d ended the conversation and walked away with a puzzled expression while he watched, his playful smirk disappearing, as well as the good mood he’d put himself in. He stared at the floor for another five minutes (real bro) before walking to his room, inevitably giving up.

It wasn’t until later, when you two had a job together, that he realized his ‘ideas’ were just big dumb mistakes. He’d dropped the flirtations and basically pushed the thought of your feelings to the back of his mind, hoping at this point that Twice hadn’t been serious. You got the job done, and he burned the place down. The two of you watched the fire quietly, and as he glanced back at you- to check for injuries if anything, he thought- and found you’d already been looking at him. Your eyes darted away and back to the burning building, a blush creeping across your face. You looked…adorable.

His eyes widened at the thought, but instead of thinking anything of it, he just chuckled at your expression, stepping a bit closer. No flirtations, no confusion, it was just you, and Dabi.

”you know…twice told me something real interesting earlier”

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part 2 coming soon bc I wanted to drop this at a reasonable time and didn’t finish😗😗😗

[f-cat]

Arts & Laughs #2 - Mercy We re-opened the studio briefly after the holidays and checked our inbox; I can't tell you how full it was. Thousands and thousands of emails sent to us from fans around: "When are you opening back up? I want to try." "When are you bringing this lee back?" "Where do I sign up?"

I don't have all the answers to these questions yet, but we did open our doors for even more depraved ideas, so we tossed out another questionnaire on what fans would have liked to see. For those of you who don't know, in my free time - I like to dabble in art, and I received an inquisitive message via the questionnaire from a fan: "How do you paint women?" Well, this had me thinking, and of course - the mind wanders. Naturally, I held a conference with Fantine to get confirmation on whether this was interesting or not, and the answer was a resounding maybe. What's life if we don't try something new? This is something we call "Arts & Laughs," where we bring in any ticklee intelligent enough to explore our "experimental division," take off their shoes, and paint their bare feet. One thing I've learned - those bristles on a paintbrush can be very tickly (from personal experience, don't ask) - especially when we apply a special, oily paint to go with it (not actual oil paints). So naturally, we brought in one of our most willing lees in the studio - Dr. Ziegler. She was happy to volunteer herself for this kinky little experiment.

We strapped her down and stocked her up - wrists and all - and got to work. We got rid of her loafers and socks, took up a brush, and started tickling. I decided to paint Mercy's right sole a salubrious silver, while Fantine went with a gorgeous gold on her left, and let me tell you - the moans and laughter that erupted from this Swiss beauty were amazing.

You see, paintbrushes feel interesting when we slowly drag its bristles against the skin, but when we speed things up...well it just glides across her bare feet and does its job of tickle torture - though I think that really depends on the ticklee. Angela not only adores being tickled but also has sensitive soles, which made this little experiment of ours a no-brainer. Fantine's favorite thing to do is hold those toes of her back - so Angela's sole is taut - and dig the paintbrush right into her arch. She lets those soft bristles circle and swish-swish-swish in circular patterns against Dr. Ziegler's sensitive foot...it's enough for our victim to squeal "Oh mein gott!" over and over again.

All in all, it's quite simple - we paint, paint, paint; Mercy laugh, laugh, laughs. The downside - Dr. Ziegler is a wiggler for sure. She can wiggle and giggle all she wants, but she can't stop those Swiss soles from being painted (which did get things a little messy for everyone)! After the session, we asked Mercy if she enjoyed herself and she gave it two thumbs up. Hooray for science!

One of these days, I think we ought to swap our paints to pink to give an entire new meaning to the term "tickled pink." What do you think? Should we keep this concept in our studio?

Anyways, I hope you all had a great New Years! We're always looking forward to your messages!

-- Fantine & Cat

[o-kingston]

Gone With the Sunrise

Richard Grayson x Reader

Words: 1329

Warning: Angst (I guess), cursing

Note: This is my first ever fan-fic so I’m sorry if it’s bad. I read a fic where the reader confronted Dick about all the time he spent with Barbra and it gave me inspo to write this, but unfortunately I can’t find the fic anymore. I hope you enjoy it!

Synopsis: Life with your boyfriend, Dick, was a dream, right up until it wasn’t. You knew he was out there, keeping Gotham safe with his family, but a nagging feeling in the back of your mind couldn’t help but feel like he’d rather be out there with her rather than spending time with you.

The night was cold, or rather, it was lonely. Dick was off saving the city, once again leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. You knew he was busy, and what he did was important, but at this point, it just seemed like he would rather spend his nights with her than with you. 

God, Barbra was a force to be reckoned with. She's strong, smart, pretty, and sometimes, everything you felt you couldn’t measure up to. She got to spend her days and nights with him, and what could you do if she decided she wanted him again? How could you step in and stop her if she saw your boyfriend way more often than you did?

You spend your night wallowing on your couch, waiting for Dick to burst through the window and come to reassure you, but as the hours ticked by and the sun began to rise, the hope fluttering in your stomach hardened into dread.

You grab your phone with the time glaring back at you. You call dick and wait. When he doesn’t pick up you call again, and wait, and wait, and wait. After the third time the phone went to voicemail you finally shoot off a text to him.

You: hey dickie, i miss you. 

You: call me when you get the chance. 

You don’t bother waiting for his response, leaving the couch and getting ready for work. You don’t know whether to feel upset or disappointed; or both. You never see him anymore, never really talk, or anything. Time just keeps slipping past him, and by the time he’s done patrolling or hunting bad guys as Nightwin, he goes out to be Officer Grayson then repeats until there’s no time left in the day for you.

~~~~~~~~~~ Time skip to the end of the day ~~~~~~~~~~ 

Work had dragged on. Within the 8 hours you spent busying yourself behind your desk you had sent Dick three more texts.

You: i miss you. i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever. we should try to do a dinner sometime this week.

You: maybe if you’re free today we can get some food before you head over to bruce’s. 

You: i love you.

Every single message has gone unanswered. You were losing hope and you were frustrated with yourself for letting it get like this. You get home and busy yourself with your night-time routine. You figure that Dick won’t respond to you in time to grab a bite so you start making dinner. You get through your entire dinner, shower, and night time routine with still no response back to any of your texts. 

Your tense getting into bed, checking your phone every minute hoping Dick will finally text you back; disappointed each time your screen pops up blank. You decide to just go to bed and try again tomorrow, not really wanting to face your emotions tonight if Dick doesn’t show up. You slowly lull yourself to sleep while spiralling through everything that could’ve gone wrong in your relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~ Time skip to 3 am ~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to loud knocking on your window. You sit up, looking around your room for the source of the sound before seeing Dick in his Nightwing suit on your windowsill. You freeze, not expecting to see him at all tonight, especially since he never responded to your texts.

“ Y/N? You gonna open the window or are you gonna keep staring at me like a weirdo?” He asks. “I mean, I don’t mind but its a bit chilly out here.”

You immediately spring out of bed, going to unlock the window.

“Dick? What are you doing here?” You ask.

“I just wanted to see my beautiful girlfriend. Is that so hard to believe?”

You don’t know what came over you but you just snap, finally having enough of his hot and cold treatment.

“Yes, that is hard to believe. You don’t make time for me, you don’t text me or respond to my texts or calls. For fucks sakes the last time I saw you was over a week ago! What are you doing that is so much more important than even letting me know that you're still alive and that I am in fact your girlfriend still?”

“Where's this all coming from Y/N? Of course you're still my girlfriend! Why would you think that?” He asks, clearly caught off guard.

You take a second to regain your sense before continuing, “Dick, where have you been this past week.” His face immediately falls before blanking. 

“Why does that matter? I’m here now aren’t I?”

“Dick, it’s 3 AM. I’m not some booty call you come to when you're horny and nothing else. It matters to me where you are when you can’t seem to make time for me when the sun's out.”

“I’ve been busy working a case with Barbra. We’re onto something here and time just keeps slipping to the back of my mind. You know how I get when I’m in the zone.”

Your frustration was starting to boil over. You couldn’t understand why he didn’t understand why this was such a big deal.

“Why didn’t you respond to my texts? Or pick up the phone to tell me you wouldn’t be coming by at all this week?” Tears were starting to crowd your eyes, making the image of Dick in front of you blurry.

Dick grabs you, pulling you to his chest while trying to stop your tears from falling. “I forgot my phone at Barb’s place and I keep forgetting to grab it. I swear if I knew you texted I would have responded.”

Your heart stops beating and your body turns cold. “Barbra’s place? Why were you there? You said you were just working a case with her?” Your thoughts were starting to spiral again, tears of frustration and sadness falling down your face faster, and faster. 

“No, no. Fuck. Y/N, baby look at me. We were just there for work. I didn’t do anything, I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“No, Dick. Why did you stay in the cave or something? Do you know how that makes me feel? You're ditching me to spend your nights at your ex’s place? God, how am I supposed to trust you, trust that you're not doing anything with her?”

“Because I’m with you Y/N!” Dick yells, “I’m with you, I have you. I don’t need or want Barbra, I only want you.”

“Then why don’t you spend time with me? Why don’t you call me or text me? Why don’t you think about how your actions affect me?” At this point you were sobbing. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. All of the hurt, anger, frustration, everything was flowing out of you after being pent up for so long. 

“I’m sorry Y/N. I swear I'll do better. I’ll get my phone from Barb’s and I’ll tell Bruce I need the weekend off. We can do something, just us. I swear. I only need you. I miss you too, more than anything in the world. Please just stop crying. Please.” He begged.

You couldn’t stop crying. You mind was running at a thousand miles an hour, and it all kept circling to one thought. He never said he loved me. He kept saying he needed me, and that he missed me, but never once did he say he loved me. 

“Dick,” You started. “Please leave. Please leave. Please leave.”

You kept repeating yourself, talking over him until he visibly deflated. He finally stopped trying to talk to you and walked back to your window. He took one last look at you before climbing out and swinging away. He looked beautiful as he left, with the sun rising behind him, making it seem like he glowed. You followed him with your teary eyes until you couldn’t anymore. And just like that he was gone with the sunrise.

[fall0utmind]

Medical Leak AU pt 12

Hi friends!!

Finally got around to finishing this chapter - after almost a full rewrite - I hope you like it. Thank you sooooo much to everyone who has shown me love, appreciation and support for my works. I feel v lucky x

Anyways I hope this lovely almost 6k chapter makes up for the delay. It's very very angsty - finally all that Vale guilt you wanted.

TW// Suicide (more graphic than anything else I have written) - crashes - death - injury

Probably about 2-3 more chapters left!!!!!

Love you all - ch below cut

AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59751640/chapters/158547442

CH 12 - REGRET

Valentino gets home late on Monday evening with a million thoughts in his head and the heavy weight of exhaustion clinging to him. The beginnings of a headache are throbbing behind his temples, an indicator of a long weekend of overthinking. Despite this, Valentino cannot rest, too wired from a weekend full of mistakes and surprises. It has categorically been one of the worst weekends of Vale’s life. From finding out about Marc’s past and watching him fall apart in front of his eyes, to somehow making it even worse by opening his mouth. In hindsight, he realises that historical emotions with no place in the present fuelled their exchanges, lighting the spark for an inevitable detonation. He let his ego rule his mind, took it out on Marc and was disbelieving even as he stared down the truth. Not his finest moments. It has taken too many years to realise that he loves Marc and now he is faced with the incomprehensible fact that he might lose him altogether if he can’t make amends.

He used to know Marc so well; he doesn’t know when he stopped understanding every intricacy and started attributing them all to some form of evil. But somewhere along the way, every little thing Marc did was labelled as corrupt and dangerous in his mind. It costs his pride to set the habitual instinct aside, knowing he has made mistakes along the way. He is now going against years of conditioning intended to forget the affection he once felt for Marc. And yet here he is sitting in his kitchen, back at square one, after years of messing things up for both himself and Marc, with that same affection reignited and his heart shattered by his own mistakes.

Despite a greater acceptance of his shortcomings in the past years, Valentino struggles to swallow the realisation that this was his fault. Somewhere deep inside, a stubborn part of him protests the concept; it is the same fragment which is still bitter about 2015 and the loss of his tenth title. When Valentino allows himself to think about it, he still feels some frustration about the 2015 season, both with himself and Marc. But he can also look back and realise that he was a grown adult and Marc was 22; one of them should have known better, and it wasn’t Marc. Moreover, instead of choking down his anger at the time, and talking to Marc privately, Valentino decided to air it out to the world at large. He tries to push the feelings down and bottle them up, unwilling to let something as fragile as an ego ruin this. Valentino’s ego destroyed their relationship last time- a combination of his self-importance and visceral need to win. Alongside, there was a self-doubt which niggled at the back of his mind for years until he let it engulf him. He began to doubt Marc’s loyalty and trustworthiness, even though Marc looked at him like he held the sun. He can now identify that his feelings were a combination of the dread that Marc could be better than him and the fear of his overwhelming and undeniably romantic feelings for the younger man.

It's all irrelevant now. Valentino has spent a decade screwing it up and denying his feelings. Now, he must weigh up whether Marc, the continuation of his legacy as the best, or his pride are more important.

(The choice is surprisingly easy)

Valentino takes a deep breath, blowing it out between his teeth and screwing his eyes shut. He needs a plan. And yet, he’s still at a loss about how to get Marc back. He has tried begging, reasoning, and telling the truth but none have worked.

 Albeit, he thinks bitterly, after each attempt, he promptly screwed it up again. He imagines it might take time for Marc to come around. It had taken Valentino years to destroy him and almost a decade to realise his own stupidity - he should give Marc time now. But patience has never been Valentino’s virtue, and he reckons he can speed up the process a little – some more positive interviews, or some flowers and much sweet talking. Nothing too overbearing, but Marc has always had a bit of a thing for praise, especially from Valentino.

No matter how hard he tries though, it is uncertain whether Marc will ever be able to trust him again. After everything that has happened between them, it feels like a far-off prospect. It doesn’t help that Marc had physically run away from him in Misano, fleeing his motorhome and leaving Vale standing there like an idiot, feeling bereft.

Now he almost wishes that he stayed, waiting for Marc to come back. He doesn’t focus too much on the small voice saying that he probably deserved to be abandoned by Marc. Thankfully, he didn’t have a long drive afterwards, and it was even quicker when he had barely paid attention to the road, too tied up in his thoughts. He was glad that the winding roads had been almost deserted, allowing him to follow the route by muscle memory, barely twitching at the occasional set of oncoming headlights.

His thoughts are running away from him, spinning off on tangents like what his journey home was like, rather than the task at hand. It is a solid indicator of his fatigue. The next time he looks at the clock, it’s almost midnight, signifying that he’s been sitting in one position for far too long. He groans as he hauls himself out of his chair, his knees cracking. He feels like this weekend has aged him. He pops his back and stretches his arms above his head, shifting as he tries to gather the will to move to his bedroom.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on him whilst he half heartedly brushes his teeth, skipping along shower until tomorrow.  He shucks his clothes off before throwing himself into bed, feeling overwhelmingly grateful that he has the money for the fancy mattresses he adores. He falls asleep quickly, his overactive mind shutting down to give him a brief respite. Before he retired, sleeping used to be tough after a race weekend fuelled by adrenaline, now though he usually sleeps like a baby.  Dreams come in hazy wisps of half-formed scenes. A young Marc giggles at something Valentino has said, an older version of him studiously avoiding his eyes. A flash of tanned skins and thundering engines. The harsh words which were cruelly spat at each other all those years ago. He is thrown from dream to dream, his imagination running wild.

Valentino sleeps until the sun is already high in the sky. He is endlessly grateful for mornings in bed on Mondays. The joys of retiring early. He showers quickly, perfunctory, and avoids thinking of Marc or his perfect face and plush lips lest his body betrays him. He towels himself down in much the same way and sets to start his day. He’s already written off a productive week, content to relax and wallow in self-pity after the shit show of a weekend. He putters around the kitchen for a bit, making himself some breakfast and a coffee, taking the time to do it in the fancy way that he usually brushes off as too excessive. Clutching his mug and plate, he wanders into the living room, laying his breakfast on the coffee table. He grabs his laptop and settles on the sofa. Now that he has returned to the safety of his own home, Valentino has plans to go online to read watch and consume every piece of literature about Marc Marquez that he had missed over the last decade. Thankfully, he already knows plenty: his rookie years, family, and success he is intimately familiar with. But he’s shied away from much of it: the crashes, his recovery, relationships, and the recent news. He has to start somewhere – for some reason, he thinks the crashes (and there are many) might be easiest.

Before he even consciously thinks about it, the video of Jerez is loading on his laptop – go big or go home and all of that. He watches in a half-daze and winces when Marc is thrown off the bike; the high side seems to happen in slow motion as he is flung through the air before slamming back into the earth. Valentino’s sharp gaze focuses on how Marc grits his teeth, his arm hanging limply by his side. He knows it was bad; he was there. He hadn’t seen the actual crash, and it is different now seeing it as it happened. He remembers that day, his bitter and forced indifference at the time. The vicious kind of vindication that Marc could not finish after Vale’s race had ended prematurely. Looking back now, it was fairly indicative of Valentino’s not-normal feelings. Afterwards, when he became aware of the surgery, an odd combination of panic and pleasure coursed through him. It was one less championship to Marc’s name, but Valentino also dedicated himself to researching the surgery and ensuring the doctors were the very best that money could buy. He had stopped looking into Marc's treatment after the second surgery, attempting to distance himself and by surgery number four, he thought Marc would retire – he didn’t know how to feel about that.

The video loops. He rewatches it until he can memorise the exact second Marc lost the bike, the angle at which it bucks, and the pain on his face when he thinks the cameras are no longer watching. Marc looks like he wants to scream in agony every time. Valentino wants to burn the circuit to the ground. The next time through, Valentino doesn’t click replay, staring numbly at the screen, the vision of Marc falling seared behind his eyelids. The next video loads before he can stop it. It’s a clip of Marc talking to a camera, a distant look in his eyes; it’s from that stupid documentary - the one Valentino has been avoiding for years. He hums thoughtfully, if he wants to get to know Marc again, this might be a good idea. How bad could it be? A quick Google search tells him where to watch it and it’s all too easy to set it up on his too-large TV and press play.

Valentino didn’t expect it to be so excruciating, seeing it so clearly laid out in front of his eyes. It’s difficult to watch. Whenever Valentino is mentioned, Marc’s face shutters slightly and Valentino finds himself physically recoiling from the pain in Marc’s voice. He trains his eyes on the screen, no matter how much he wants to look away. Surprisingly, the documentary cements that Marc is willing to rip himself apart to win, sinking his teeth into success and clutching on for dear life. Although Valentino already knew this; he didn’t realise Marc was willing to show everyone else. What he didn’t know is that, before it all fell apart, every time Marc did something wildly impressive, he looked to Valentino after, as if to seek his approval. In this light, Marc looks unbearably enamoured and so keen to please. He can see how Marc tore his heart open to keep Vale, only to be left with the tattered remains of their relationship – it aches. Unsurprisingly, there is also venom in Marc’s family’s descriptions of Valentino. Watching Roser talk about throwing his merchandise away after their fallout makes him wince. He remembers the smugness he felt when he lied to the Italian media as if he didn’t see the awe in Marc’s eyes. He remembers the first time he met a young Marc and the startling clarity that he was Marc’s world back then. (He remembered then too). Guilt engulfs him. He turns off the documentary and closes his eyes, unable to continue. His coffee is cold.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, he organises his bookcase and then his room. He ambles around the track and rewatches some races from before Marc’s premier class debut. He locks himself in his office, passing the time by organising and doing trivial admin tasks which he has been putting off for months. He doesn’t feel like eating but forces himself to choke down a slice of plain toast, it still makes him nauseous. By the time he’s settled on the sofa again, the clock has struck nine and the light has faded to a pale dusk. The TV feels like it’s taunting him, its red light winking threateningly. He stares at the black screen.

A memory springs to life from the depth of his mind, unbidden. Marc, baby-faced and eager in 2013, in some shitty bar God knows where. He was drunk, absolutely hammered, his phone clutched in his hand as he waved it around, showing Valentino the pictures of his childhood room, full of old merch (most of it was Valentino’s). He remembers being unbearably fond, incredibly old, and slightly embarrassed on Marc’s behalf. A strangled noise erupts from the back of his throat. He had lied, to everyone; he had always known Marc had idolised him and he had taken that vulnerability and stabbed him in the back. Valentino feels sick, a vivid picture of Marc’s mum in the documentary, her disapproval clear to the world, even as Marc had remained hopeful.

Valentino can’t bring himself to turn the TV back on. He is a coward. He stumbles to his feet and fills a tumbler from the kitchen with whiskey - the expensive shit that Pecco got him last Christmas. He doesn’t want to think about it, about Marc, and he certainly doesn’t want to feel anything. So, he does what he does best and ignores it all, playing melancholy music through his too-expensive sound speaker and drinking away his sorrows and regrets. He doesn’t think of anything, or maybe he does – it all passes in a blur. The remnant shred of his sanity takes charge after three drinks, reminding him that alcohol is not actually the solution to all his problems. He leaves the glass on the side, promising himself that he will wash it up tomorrow. Staggering to his bedroom is an unwelcome reminder that he is far too old to be drinking alone in his empty house, he suddenly feels strangely lonely. He avoids looking the single toothbrush in the holder and the shower which only contains one set of body wash and shampoo. He ignores the thought that he wishes there were two. By the time he has finished in the ensuite and crossed the room to his bed, his eyes are already drooping. Valentino falls into a dreamless sleep the minute he hits the mattress.

*

The next day, Vale plans to watch the 2015 season from start to finish, and then study the replays of all the worst races across their time as competitors - Sepang, Argentina, Jerez, and Philip Island, the ones Valentino considers the turning points for their relationship. He is determined to pick apart the catalysts of their supernova implosion. It is a strange sensation to watch the worsening of their relationship as an outsider on the screen. He can barely bring himself to watch Sepang, too embarrassed by his childish and unsportsmanlike behaviour. He didn’t like Marc’s behaviour that year and didn’t enjoy losing (he never had). But the lies were atrocious, let alone thinking of what they led to. He turns it off before the press conference. He remembers how Marc had looked all too well, how he looked amused at first like it was all some elaborate joke before his face fell and shock took over.

He watches some of the better ones too, where he would pull Marc close in parc fermé and spray him with champagne on the podium. Marc looked so happy, so young, and in awe of Valentino. A startling difference from the Marc he now knows, to the one he created. His current Marc ignores Vale, putting up his walls whenever they interact, so much so that Valentino can barely recognise the real him. In his head, he can’t seem to reconcile all the Marcs, the real and the fake, the ones he knows and doesn’t. Valentino wonders which Marc is real, which Alex gets, and which Dovi gets. Is there even a real one, is it all an act, or is he all the Marcs in one?

It is a testament to how little Valentino knows Marc because, as much as he doesn’t want to think about it, apparently, he also relied on painkillers and was so hurt after everything that happened that he tried to end his life (twice). And even though he was there to witness it all, Valentino hadn't even realised. Marc fears vulnerability (he didn’t before), keeps his cards close to his chest, and doesn’t let anyone in; it makes him want to scream. He doesn’t understand how he missed it. He watches the end of the 2015 season particularly closely, searching for an indicator that Marc was feeling so low, any slip of his mask to see the true feelings beneath. He tries to find the clues that he missed, back then, the hints that Marc was struggling, if only he had looked. It hurts, watching, seeing Marc go from joyful and naive to guarded over a year is so obvious now that he is not overwhelmed by resentment. The pain wrenches at his gut, pulling painfully like a fishhook and making unnamed emotions rise within him. To the rest of the world, Marc is indifferent, a jokester, portraying a happy persona despite his internal turbulence, just like he was before Valentino. It is almost unfathomable that he didn’t notice him shutting down, the way his face would fall when Valentino was cruel or blasé. In the early years, of 2015 and 16, Marc hadn’t learnt how to throw up his walls quickly enough and his eyes betrayed him, if you knew what to look for. Over time he got better, or maybe he just stopped caring and became numb to it all.  He did this, he hurt Marc in unspeakable ways. He thinks that if he were Marc, he would never forgive himself.

For a split second, he pauses and wonders why he is doing this to himself, putting himself through all this pain. But then he considers the pain he caused for Marc, how his face had crumbled at the press conference of Friday, and the awful truth of the past which stares him down. Marc deserves better, and Valentino wants to give him that. He imagines his face after winning, looking so alive, his beautiful smile which lights up a room, and his ability to overcome anything. So, Valentino mentally prepares himself, turns on the documentary and wades his way through the rest of the programme, for Marc. Occasionally, he must tear his eyes away when it becomes too much, and Marc’s pain becomes too apparent. He feels sick at the end of it, sick and wrung out. So weighed down by his guilt that he doesn’t think he will ever stand up again.

Valentino’s curious though, wondering quite how bad it all was medically, how much he fucked up. He opens his phone, searching for every article he can find about Marc’s extensive injuries and hospital records. It is like one of those sick fascinations where he doesn’t want to keep reading, to torture himself, but he cannot help it, he wants to know more. He reads it all until it’s tattooed on his brain. The surgeries, the failed attempts at recovery, mainly due to Marc’s frankly stupid plan to get onto a bike again so soon. The man has always had a death wish, unafraid of falling, throwing himself into the deep end. Fall or win – die or live. Marc ran on a scale of dichotomy. He looks at the scars marring Marc’s skin, how they transform him into something unbearably more attractive, determination written on his skin. The medical records are difficult to digest. Of course, he has already seen them, but this time he imagines, feels, and believes it (he still feels guilty about that too). He is shocked that the descriptions are so… vivid. He puts himself in Marc’s shoes, well as much as he can, and considers how he would feel if suddenly everyone knew his secrets, an intimately private part of his life. Evidently, the whole arm situation isn’t new, but Valentino doesn’t think that anyone knew Marc experienced chronic pain – every day. He must admit, riding through that is incredibly impressive, but also terrifying. He can’t believe that Marc hides it so well, the fact that he is constantly in agony is chilling.

Valentino reads on. He didn’t know about the medication, but why would he? The word addiction haunts him. He doesn’t think too much about the suicide, he just reads. If he does it will break him. He might already be broken. At some point, he switches from putting himself in Marc’s shoes to imagining if he was there. What if he had been the one to find Marc and not Alex? If he and Marc were still friends, would Marc fall asleep on him as he does with Dovi? Would he trust Marc to give him the right dose of painkillers when he needs them? The more he thinks about it, he realises that he wants to be the person Marc turns to when his arm aches; the one to massage it and look after Marc when he’s on the strong shit that they give you for this kind of pain. The domesticity of the fantasy shocks him, it was never like this before. He wishes he could turn back time, to be that person, but instead, he is sitting alone in his empty house, reading about the man he used to adore because he has been too busy lamenting in hatred to care.

Valentino gives up on functioning afterwards, devastated by the loss of the life and love he could have had if he had opened his eyes. He cries until he can’t produce another tear. He gets drunk on an expensive bottle of wine and wrecks his kitchen in a fit of anger. He flits between despair, rage, and depression. He sobs into his hands, before he throws his glass against the wall, spilling red wine everywhere, staining the floor. It’ll be a bitch to clean. He doesn’t care, not when he’s staring into the face of a reality where he almost lost Marc. His Marc, who overdosed twice because of Valentino's stupid actions and his belief that it was a God-given right for him to win a tenth title. He doesn’t think Marc was wholly right, even now, for what he did back then, for how he raced. But he never needed to react the way he did, to cause a stir and turn everyone against him. He let them break into Marc’s home, threatening him and his family. At the time, he had thought it was funny, now he recognises the concealed fear and anger in Marc’s eyes. Upset. Not for himself, but for his family, especially his little brother. He imagines if it was him in Marc’s position. If it was Luca. His stomach sinks. Suddenly he is filled with an overwhelming sense of self-hatred. The most painful part is his own failings- that he wasn’t there for Marc when he needed it most, that he caused it. If it wasn’t for his own stubborn misconceptions or his overinflated ego, this might have all been prevented. Guilt eats him alive. He is a horrible person, he hates himself. He does not deserve Marc.

The dreams start that night. He begins to have nightmares, screaming himself awake at 2 am as he once again watches Marc hit the gravel and fall still, lying motionless on the ground. Lifeless, like he had thought for a heart-stopping moment on Saturday. He sits bolt upright, drenched in sweat and panting like a dog. He has to make himself tea to calm down. After, he sits in bed, with the light on, staring at the wall for an undetermined amount of time. By the time he settles, it’s 4 am and the first cracks of dawn are rising – he doesn’t sleep again.

The next night is the same, this time an endless montage of Marc screaming in pain after Jerez, of him high siding so severely that he gets double vision again, or shatters both arms, an ambulance taking him away on a stretcher as he shouts himself hoarse. It shifts into something different, darker. It starts okay, a normal race weekend, except Valentino is on the bike again and he kicks out at Marc, who goes flying. He doesn’t move again after that, dead or paralysed or some other awful fate. He shouts himself awake in the middle of the night once more. There is a soft, wet nose pushing against his leg – one of the dogs. He must have woken them. He shifts, moving to the side of the bed and letting his toes dig into the soft rug, trying to ground himself. He stands quietly and pads down into the kitchen. He has only slept a few hours, but the thought of going back to bed makes him feel sick. He makes a coffee and goes outside. He walks until the sun is rising and his feet hurt. He is aware he must look crazy, in sleep clothes and hair mused. He is glad no one else can see.

When he gets back, he looks in the cupboard for food but then he imagines Marc, still as a statue, and promptly loses his appetite. He doesn’t know what he does that day, time is thick and sticky, moving slowly as he simply exists. He dreams again at night, Valentino is stuck in the garage, unable to move or help as Marc slips from his bike, high sides, and crashes. Again, and again. Misano, Jerez, Silverstone, Sepang, Malaysia.  It turns fuzzy after the 30th crash, the 30th time he watches Marc die. This time he is in an unfamiliar home, empty and quiet. He calls out but gets no answer, so he begins to wander. The house is huge, cavernous and bare – all stark whites and polished surfaces. It feels vaguely familiar, certain items on the sides that tickle his memory. He pushes a door open, there’s an unmade bed and a helmet on the side. It clicks - Marc’s house. Valentino wants to run, but he also wants to stay. Curiosity gets the best of him. Marc’s room is the only part of the house which looks like him, it is strange to have such exuberance and such a boring house. He pushes open the adjoining door, opposite the bed, it leads to an ensuite – he sees the gigantic shower head. Then he sees the body. It’s Marc’s body with blood pooled around him and soaking his clothes, the source unidentifiable. There is an empty box of pills and a half-full vodka bottle next to him. Valentino dry heaves. He bends down, touching Marc’s face, searching for a pulse. Valentino screams.

He's crying when he opens his eyes, tears that roll down his cheek and turn into big, gasping sobs. He can barely breathe and he’s shaking. Getting his legs steady enough to walk into his ensuite takes nearly half an hour. He looks at the shower and automatically scans the floor. Almost immediately he is bent over the toilet, throwing up the minimal food he has eaten recently. He doesn’t look at the floor again, he is smart enough not to make the same mistake twice. When he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t recognise himself. There are dark purple bags under his eyes and his cheeks look gaunt. His face looks puffy and red from crying. He washes his face and cleans his teeth without meeting his gaze. It's like déjà vu, silently tiptoeing down his hallway to the kitchen before the sun has risen for the third time in as many days. They have blurred together into a montage of his own imagination. Between daytime and nighttime, he is plagued by horrible thoughts. He imagines Marc not recovering after Jerez or 2015, a life without Marc, and MotoGP without Marc. He doesn’t sleep again.

It’s Pecco who finds him, maybe 4 days later, barely functioning and no longer sleeping at all. He doesn’t know what day it is, and his only indicator of time is the sun in the sky. His house is a mess, and he doesn’t remember the last time he ate, let alone cooked. There is still glass on the floor from when he smashed it. Pecco looks at him with barely disguised panic which melts into sympathy when Vale feels tears burn in his eyes. Valentino guesses there's something rather off-putting about seeing your mentor in such a state. He watches in a daze as Pecco begins to tidy before ordering Valentino to shower. He finds new clothes out of his dresser, wincing when he realises how disgusting he is. The shower is nice, he turns up the heat as high as it will go, almost scorching, trying to burn the feelings out of him. Once he’s out of the shower, feeling slightly more human, he wanders back into the living after. Luca is pushing through the front door simultaneously, his eyes wide as he takes in the messy house and Valentino’s appearance.

“Oh, Vale” he whispers, striding forward and pulling his big brother into a hug. Valentino lets go, sobbing into Luca’s shoulder and letting the younger man haul him to the sofa. He clutches onto his little brother’s hoodie, shoving his face into the crook between his shoulder and neck. He tries to quieten his crying, but still ends up gasping in between sobs, it is slightly mortifying. At some point, he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows a glass of water is being pushed into his hands and a bowl of soup placed on the table. The washing machine is humming in the background, the curtains have been opened, letting in midmorning light, and the room is much tidier. Luce is standing over him, with Pecco loitering over his shoulder.

“When did you last eat?” Pecco asks, his trepidation apparent.

“Um, I’m not sure”, Valentino answers under his breath, embarrassed.

Luca sighs but does not reply, pushing the bowl towards Vale and staring at him expectantly until he begins eating. He hums appreciatively. It’s good, probably home cooked, and he is a little hungry. He knows once he’s finished, they’ll try to talk to him, he’s endlessly grateful to them for helping but it’s humiliating; he’s 46, and he should have his life under control. Pecco and Luca continue to tidy the house and feed him as if he is in his twenties and not them – he did not think he would ever sink so low. Once they are done, and Valentino has finished eating, they come back into the room, sitting on the opposite sofa and observing Vale in silence. He clears his throat awkwardly; it makes Luca sigh.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” He starts, “you are going have to talk to him at some point, rather than wallowing in self-pity”.

Valentino stares at the floor, gulping a deep breath before he speaks.

“Did you know? About Marc, the surgeries, chronic pain, the suicide.” He asks; it is unclear whether he is directing the question at Luca or Pecco.

Pecco shakes his head, trying to catch Valentino’s eyes to convey his earnestness.

“No, not the suicide, or the painkillers – I don’t think anyone had any idea, apart from Alex. Dovi said he didn’t know either.” Pecco whispers. At the mention of Dovi, Vale whips his head towards Pecco.

“You spoke to Dovi?” Valentino questions, he knows his voice is doing something funny, the now familiar feeling of jealousy stirring within. Luca groans.

 “On Sunday, after the race. I knew about the pain, Marc never quite rode the same since Jerez, I asked him about it ages ago but knew that he was lying – I pieced together the rest myself.” Pecco reveals. “He hides it well, I am not sure how he does it, considering everything that we now know”

Luca interrupts him, “Vale, what happened?”

Valentino sighs, telling them about the past few days – researching Marc, freaking out, the nightmares. By the time he is done, they have established that it is Saturday, 3pm. Luca suggests that he should contact Marc, get some closure to it all or try again, but Valentino immediately vetoes the idea, countering that now is not the right time. Luca rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath about it never being the right time and then he changes tact. He suggests that the boys should come over, they could stay a few nights, maybe practice. Even though Valentino knows it is to keep an eye on him (because he's incapable of being an adult), he doesn’t protest. Some company sounds nice right now, he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts at the moment, and maybe it could also distract him from Marc.

(Wishful thinking)

[carefreecoffee]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚Impromptu date: Shouto Todoroki˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Word count: 1.4k, Female reader

The phone rang for the fifth time already…

My date was supposed to pick me up from my dorm an hour ago. I had done my up, picked out my outfit with great detail and even managed to take an ‘everything shower’ from head to toe nearly passing out from the work I was putting into it.

I felt the tears pricking the corner of my eyes as the phone went to voicemail once more. It wasn't the first time he had stood me up, thinking he'd changed in due time. To my demise, Ii was wrong and with a huff, I threw my phone onto my plush bed, kicking off my shoes and groaning in frustration.

I know I shouldn’t be so worked up over some guy, however how could I not be? After all the work and time I spent getting ready, even checking in to make sure date night was still on! I sat at my desk, head in my hands as I held back the tears that threatened to fall, tilting my head up and trying to save my makeup.

A few tears successfully fall, smudging my makeup a bit as I curse lowly, wiping it away. I jolt in my chair as a knock is heard from the door. With a swivel, I stand up anxiously, reaching out for the door. 

To my surprise it had been Todoroki who had decided to show up unexpectedly.

“Hey y/n, you left this down in the common rooms-” I watch as his eyes finally fully rake over me, taking in my current state. 

“Are you uh- going somewhere?”

I ran a hand through my hair, leaning on my door as I held the handle. “Um, i mean, i was going to but my plans kinda…fell through” I chuckle sheepishly

I look at his hands, seeing some of my textbooks I had left from earlier. I take them from his hands, thanking him.

“Yeah, no problem” He glances over at me once more and I internally cringe at how I must look right now; disheveled, tired. “Are you okay?”

I look at him quizzically before remembering how my face must look with the state of my makeup. “No no yeah im okay” I wiped my eyes slightly, trying to take off any extra mascara that had smeared.

Shouto looked at me with a quirked brow, clearly not buying my obvious bluff. “What happened?”

I sigh, feeling the former emotions reel back into me and I reluctantly begin to open up. “Ah well- I had a date today actually but he.. kinda bailed on me last minute” I rub my neck, looking away awkwardly.

“Oh, I see. I'm sorry to hear that, y/n” He shoves his fists in his pockets, brows furrowed slightly. I wave him off, opening up the door a bit more.

“It's fine! Really, don't feel bad” I try giving him a reassuring smile, hoping he doesn't pry further.

He seemed to be lost in thought until his heterochromatic eyes met mine once more. “Are you doing anything else today?” 

I shake my head rather automatically at his questioning, knowing all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball on my bed, watch shitty drama TV and snack to my heart's content. 

He hums, “Well if you wanna- uh, we could go somewhere so you didn't get dressed for nothing, if you want of course..?” I notice the small bit of hesitation in his voice, his hands shifting a bit in his pants pockets. 

His consideration filled my heart slightly. At least someone knows how much work goes into looking this good. I take in his questioning before nodding, “Yeah…that actually sounds like a good idea” I smile, leaning on the doorframe now, fumbling with the hem of my outfit. “What do you have in mind?”

Shouto looks at you in slight surprise, knowing you’d probably rather be alone right now but not entirely upset about your answer. “Whatever you want. We’ve got a couple hours until curfew” He checks his watch before looking at me expectantly. 

I nod and grin, “ ‘Kay, let me grab my shoes real quick” I shut the door before quickly slipping my shoes back on, grabbing my bag and a jacket for when it gets cold later on. Maybe this night was going to turn out to be fine after all, and without my flaking date.

I opened the door once more before locking it, looking at Shouto as he leaned on the wall across from me. “Ready?”

I nod, walking in tow with him as we make our way down the corridor, into the elevator and finally out of the dormitories. The sun was up and gleaming, thankful that I was able to get out somehow today and especially with the great weather. 

We make our way toward one of my favourite places; a cute secluded cafe with the best tea on earth (I swear). “I walk toward it happily, entering, ordering and looking to Shouto.

“Do you want anything?” 

He looks at the menu before nodding, a small grin on his face as he orders a small boba tea, his hand reaching into his pocket for his wallet. I go to stop him but before I can, the transaction is made. As we wait for the drinks, I speak up. 

“You didn't have to pay for it you know”

He shakes his head, placing his wallet back into his back pocket. “It was nothing. The woman shouldn't have to pay”

His bluntness brings an end to my protesting. We grab our drinks and head out, walking along the sidewalk as we enter the busier parts of the streets, drinking my drink happily as we walk in tandem.

“Where to next?” Shoutos soft voice breaks the comfy silence, his eyes meeting mine as I speak up.

“Well, we planned on going to the arcade near the movie theatre but only if you’d wanna go-”

“I would” He interrupts rather enthusiastically, mumbling a small apology after noticing his rudeness. All I could do was smile and nod before leading the way a couple blocks down as we fell into conversation.

The arcade was lively with lights blaring and every machine making sound. My eyes light up as I point toward a few, ushering Shouto toward me.

We take our time with each game, Shouto seemingly breaking out of his shell by the second. The smile on my face spreads as we earn tickets, win prizes and ultimately use our tickets, spending them on the usual small toys; Rings, fake tattoos, candies. It wasn't until I finished spending my tickets that he pushed a plush panda stuffed animal toward me. 

It looked soft, holding a cute little drink with big gleaming plastic eyes. I look at Shouto, albeit confused. “For me?” I took it from his grasp hesitantly as he nodded. 

“Mhm” Was all he conjured, spending his tickets on the smaller items as well as he left me wondering and looking down at the plushie. It had to be a good few hundred tickets, with the good quality and cute exterior. 

He nods to me, ushering to leave. We set foot on the concrete once more, heading back to the dorms; both hungry and spent from the fun outing. 

“Did you have fun?” He asks, looking at me expectantly.

I nod without hesitation, “Of course I did! And I totally beat you at Dance Dance Revolution” I nudged his arm playfully.

He chuckles, the sound light in the air as it transfers to my own emotions, the root of this outing fully leaving my mind. We reach the entrance of ‘Heights Alliance’ once more, walking through the gates and reaching the dormitories. He holds the door open for me, allowing me to walk by with a thank you. 

As we enter, the sight of our friends and respective classmates refreshes me. I smile and wave before b-lining for the kitchen to make up something quick to eat. Shouto follows much to my surprise.

I glanced over to see him also taking out ingredients for what looked to be instant soba. I smile softly, “Thanks by the way” 

He hums before waving me off. “It wasn’t a problem, y/n” His eyes made contact with mine as I shut the fridge. “Besides, you deserved it” A small, rare smile makes way to his porcelain skin, making my heart lurch slightly as I feel my ears heat slightly.

All I could reciprocate was a wider smile than before, engaging in small talk as we prepared our respective dinners. 

Even if my plans fell through, I guess it wasn't all that bad. I'm glad to have a friend who considered me and even made me feel something i don't think i had felt in a while. Here wa_s to many more impromptu hangouts- or what I wanted to consider; dates.

[dreadnoughtus101]

Pro

Tsukishima Kei

Where the reader is a pro volleyball player and Ukai brought in her team to help teach Karasuno new techniques

______________________________________________________________

Pro!Reader

Tall!Reader

This one is kind of rushed, but I don't mind making a part 2? Left it pretty open ended for everyone to imagine what they want.

"Okay everybody, please behave yourselves." Daichi pleaded with the team.

It was last week that coach Ukai had told them he was bringing in the Yokohama team, a professional group of female volleyball players, in to help with Karasunos technique.

Now, today was the day, and the captain only hoped they wouldn't make a fool of themselves.

· · ────────────────── ·𖥸· ────────────────── · ·

You walked into the gym, right behind your teammates. You felt more nervous than usual, yet tried to keep it calm. It was last week that your coach had sat you guys down and told you about Karasuno, a team full of boys that hoped to go pro. It wasn't you who agreed to this, if anything it seemed like you were the only one against it. Why should we travel so far to help them? What difference does our help make compared to any other?

You saw the group of boys sitting in a group near a bench, eagerly waiting for you all. One boy in particular, a short one with orange hair, immediately sprung up and ran to greet you guys.

"Guys! It's them! It's Yokohama! Have you guys seen their plays!?" He was practically jumping, beaming with excitement. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the pure excitement he displayed at just seeing your team. Karasuno stood to greet you guys, the captains talking. They both agreed that they would pair you guys up by numbers. They went down the line, introducing everyone to their new respective counterpart.

"Eleven, y/n, you'll be working with Tsukishima."

They played a practice match for you guys to observe their play styles. You watched Tsukishima on the court, his effortless blocks. You noted some things you could show him, but you also noted that he was one of the better players you had seen.

You noticed some similarities between you two, most particularly how you both were the tallest on your teams.

"So," He was the first one to speak up as you guys walked to a corner of the gym to practice alone, "What position do you play..?" He mumbled. You let out a small laugh, it was refreshing to be asked something like that. Most people already knew simple things like that about you and immediately jumped into asking the private questions. It was one of the many cons about going pro. "Middle blocker." You replied flatly. He nodded, "Me too." You didn't realize it, but he felt a burn on his cheeks. To him, this was an obvious and stupid question to ask. You looked up at him and realized the height difference. You were used to being too tall for most boys, even though you only stood at 5'11. To some, this was too tall, but somehow he was actually taller than you.

You two had spent the next few hours practicing together, giving him tips on how to get better and small changes he could make. You noticed yourself staring at him a bit more than you probably should have. Admiring the way his hair perfectly framed his face, the way his glasses highlighted his golden brown eyes, his slender fingers. "Are you okay?" You heard him ask.

You snapped out of it, realizing you had been staring. Quietly apologizing, you tried to change the subject. "Have you thought about going pro?" He let out a scoff, as if it was a dumb question. "I wouldn't stick around for this long if I hadn't." You felt the same burning in your face that he had earlier, and just nodded, almost feeling guilty for asking such a dumb question. He noticed this before adding, "Why did you decide to?"

It was a good question, one you hated having to answer. "I'm not.. entirely sure." You paused mid sentence, "My parents were, so it was just kind of expected for me. It's not that I hate it, but sometimes I think of doing other stuff when I get older." He nodded along. You hated being a pro at so young. It drew so much attention towards you and it was hard to keep simple aspects of your life private. You never had many friends outside of your team, couldn't go to public school, and everywhere you went there were cameras flashing in your face. You enjoyed it, but the fame was tiring.

You noticed that this time, he was the one looking at you, studying your features.

· · ────────────────── ·𖥸· ────────────────── · ·

When your team had left, the coaches insisted you all kept in contact with each other. You wouldn't have minded it so much if it weren't for the fact that you just could not stop thinking about him.

It was a few weeks after, you sat outside after practice. Your team mate and best friend, f/n, sat next to you. "Have you talked to that Tsukishima boy yet?" She asked, a sly grin on her face. "No, why?" You questioned. There wasn't much to talk about, but you told him you could text him if he needed any more help. "I saw the way you two were staring at each other, I mean come on, y/n, its a perfect match." You scoffed at her and rolled your eyes. "Why, 'cause we're both tall?" She playfully nudged your shoulder "AND," she added, "You both play the same position! Plus, he's cute."

Your face blushed, you knew she was just teasing you but what was the harm in getting closer to him? She wasn't wrong, he really was cute.

"I don't think I should be getting into relationships though, it would never be private." You looked at her, a tinge of sadness in your eyes at the thought of it. You were never able to have a boyfriend and while you never really wanted one, you started to toy with the idea a little bit after seeing him.

F/n only rolled her eyes, "I think you're dramatic."

Maybe you were, maybe not. What was worth the risk?

· · ────────────────── ·𖥸· ────────────────── · ·

You heard the familiar DING from your phone, a new text from someone.

"It's Tsukishima, thanks for the help last month."

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw his name, realizing he was the one texting you.

"Of course, any time."

It felt embarrassing in a way, wondering if you should've added more or less, looking for a way to keep the conversation going. You didn't have to though, it was like he read your mind.

"Would you wanna go to a cafe with me this weekend?"

Were you imagining things? It wasn't even a minute later that he texted again.

"Sorry, forget it. Nevermind."

Why was he backing down now?

"No wait, I'd love to."

· · ────────────────── ·𖥸· ────────────────── · ·

And so, the following Monday after that weekend, neither of you said a word to anyone, it was the news paper that did the talking for you both.

"Y/N L/N SEEN WITH BOY AT CAFE THIS SATURDAY MORNING."

Included with a picture and all.

[mtheonott]

 Winter emptiness.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⌗ angst, comf, winter, au

word count: 812

note: :р

Fatigue. Regret about life. Unpleasant feeling of your own body. The unbearable burden of existence. Or the void. You didn't know what you were feeling at the moment.

There were no more tears streaming from eyes, and time didn't feel like it was moving at all. The cold wind helped not to completely lose yourself in this moment. 

A hand rested on the railing next to you, but you didn't even turn around because you knew who he was. Theo. This is the first time a guy who is always frowning and distant has ever looked at you with anything other than annoyance. 

You never got along with him: the eternal barbs, jokes, quarrels and meaningless conversations about who is better. But at that moment, it was as if you both felt that this place wasn't meant for childishness.

Nott took off his scarf and casually wrapped it around your neck to protect you from the winter weather. His gaze drifted to your cheeks, which were covered with fresh tears.

— What happened? — Theo asked indifferently as he scanned the night sky. 

The Christmas party was in full swing, but fate decided to block out too personal a moment from prying eyes, making you cry on the balcony. The December frost stung you face pleasantly, but it didn't matter. You were still staring blankly ahead, not even looking at the houses. Mouth opened involuntarily, as if to answer for its mistress. 

— Nott, what did your parents give you for Christmas?

The boy frowned, replaying the memories in his head. 

— Video games on the console. And what? — He answered without taking his eyes off your face.

— My parents didn't give me anything. Absolutely, — you shrugged, — For the first time in my entire life.

Theo chuckled. His amusement didn't even surprise you, because this is his typical behavior - making fun of other people's problems. 

— That's so touching, — he laughed a little more until he realized you were serious and rolled his eyes, — Oh, please don't tell me you were crying because Mom and Dad didn't give you anything.

You didn't react to his laughter in any way. Not up to it now. Sighing again, you decided to open your heart for the first time, hoping to get something in return.

— After Mom died, Dad started working twice as hard to provide for me and my younger sisters. Every day to see his torment was already unbearable. I couldn't even bring myself to remind him of a gift for me. Before, only my mom used to buy me presents, but now she's gone, — you finally looked down at your hands, — When I was little, I used to dream about my eighteenth birthday: lots of friends, a vacation with my parents, and the coolest gift from them. However, all I have now is a couple of friends. It's a shame, isn't it?

Nott stopped smiling as he looked at your face, completely drained and lifeless. He sighed languidly and released steam from his mouth, or rather condensed moisture, as the brunette mentioned earlier during another argument. 

— I'm sorry, but you can't feel sorry for yourself. The world is cruel, and believe me, I know it. But if you don't grow up and realize that the past won't come back, you'll spend the rest of your life in misery.

Theo looked like he was speaking from his own experience, which he clearly had. Your lashes fluttered slightly and you looked up at him. The woman's dry lips were slightly parted in small surprise. 

— You know you're a jerk, right?

— I know, I know perfectly well, but someone had to tell you the hard truth, — he shrugged, — You can live your whole life in misery and sadness, blaming the rest of the world. Or exist as a normal adult and find some semblance of happiness. Choose for yourself.

The guy took one last look at the night city and left the balcony, leaving you alone with his words. You watched him go. The words echoed in your mind, and heart began to pound again. When he left, you sighed and licked your dry lips. Standing up and wiping the tears from your cheeks, you promised yourself to look at the world with your head held high. He's right. You have to live happily without paying attention to the little things. This is just a stage that can be bypassed in no time, if you force yourself to stop. 

Soon, you came down to the party, smiling and laughing. Hips began to move again to the New Year's music, and mind cleared of problems. At this time, Theo was looking at you from the side, grinning and making a note for the future - take a second scarf with him. 

[lunaticalove2]

Okay! I actually wrote the first one! I am waiting for ao3 to send me an invitation, and I'm going to caopy the story there. For now, I'm publishing it here (Story under the cut). Enjoy!

Blitzø's POV

After reuniting with Octavia, Stolas stopped being Stolas. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't speak, wouldn't get up, and I often found him gasping for air in the middle of a panic attack. I feel really bad for him, and I'm doing the best I can to help him through this tough time. He didn't even have the strenght to come to work, so now I leave him to sleep on the couch while I'm in the office or on a mission, and when I come back I make something to eat for the three of us. My biggest fear is him doing stupid things to himself while at work. I try to call him when I'm not there with him just to know he's okay. He doesn't speak much, tho. I told him he just has to pick up the phone and if he doesn't feel like saying something he can just make noises like hoots or something like that. This morning was really tough for him. Stolas tried to call Via again, cause he never gave up with that, and he finally got a response. But it wasn't what he was hoping for. The scene was something like this:

*flashback*

Blitzø:"you sure you wanna call her again? You can try tomorrow"

Stolas just nods, and Blitzø sighs softly, he can't say no to him. The phone rings and someone picks up

Stolas:"Via?!"

Octavia:"Stop calling to this number! If I ever want to talk to you again, I'll be the one to call. So stop looking for me. Bye"

And she hangs up. Stolas looks at the phone, too stunned to speak or even move. Blitzø notices and immediately runs by him.

Blitzø:"Hey, breathe. She's just going through a tough time. Just like you"

Stolas stays silent. Everything starts spinning and his vision is blurring with tears. His breath caught in his throath. Blitzø embraces him and Stolas returns the hug, and soon enough he's hyperventilating and crying in the other's shoulder

*end of flashback*

So now I'm esitant to go to work, I'm scared he's going to do something stupid. And these days he's also refusing to take his anti-depressant. I'm so worried, but I also can't leave everything to Loona and M&M. Today we have many clients, and they can't handle it alone. I decide to approach him. "hey Stols" he looks at me "I have to go to work. Are you gonna be fine on your own for a few hours?" he waits a moment and then nods "alright, I trust you. But if something, ANYTHING, happens, don't hesitate to call me" I kiss him on the forehead "see you later, big bird". And I leave the house.

Stolas's POV

I feel so useless. Blitzø just left for work and I didn't even say anything. And this morning Octavia, my sweet Via, rejected me. When I called her she literally said she didn't want to see me nor talk to me. My mind is full of thoughts, I can't think straight. Withouth noticing, I get up and suddenly I'm in the bathroom. I open the drawer and I take a blade. I deserve it, I tell myself. I starts cutting... 1, 2, 3 cuts. It feels good, and I can't stop. At one point, I don't even know how much time passed, I cut too deep and start panicking, only now realizing what I had done. I immediately get up and put my arms under the water. A few cuts stop bleeding too much after a while, but a few of them are still losing too much blood. I feel myslef on the verge of passing out, I'm so lightheaded. I need to call Blitzø. Even if I'm ashamed to do so. I grab my phone and dial his number. I wait for him to pick up doing my best to stay concious. He picks up almost immediately: "Stols? Are you ok? Something happened" I only manage to croack out a few words with the tears that were now running down my cheeks "B-Blitzø. I'm sorry" he sounds worried as he responds "I'm coming now" and he hangs up. I just need to atay concious.

Blitzø's POV

I just received the call from Stolas. I'm driving as fast as I can, maybe I even killed some people that were crossing the road, but I just need to be there for him. I arrive and burst into the door. "STOLAS!!" I yell from the kitchen. But then I hear some crying from the bathroom and I immediately run in there. I can't believe what i'm looking at right now. Stolas, my Stolas, crying in the bathroom with a blade next to him, and his arms are full of blood. I rush to his side and kick the blade out of his reach. I hug him tight, not caring if my clothes are getting wet with his blood. "I-I-I'm so sorry. I-" I shush him and tell him that it's okay as I let go and look at his arms. This is worse that I thought. Some of the cuts are very deep. I notice that he is breathing heavily, and maybe struggling to stay concious. "Stols, looks at me. Try to focus on me and don't pass out". He nods. I help him off the floor and to the sink, where I remove most of the blood. While doing this, I say "Why would you do that? It's dangerous" he is still crying, probably can't bring himself to stop, and I don't blame him for that "I-I don't know. I-I don't know what's gotten into me. I'm so sorry" I look at him and say "It's okay. Don't apologize. You're going through a tough time". When I finish washing away most of the blood, I take him on the bed, disinfect and bandage his cuts. When I'm done, I give him a cup of water, since he's still shaken and he lost much blood. "Wanna talk about it?" I ask. He shakes his head no. "Can you just... Hold me? For a bit. I'm still kinda dizzy" he says. My expressions softens and i immediately embrace him and rub his back comfortingly. After a moment, I decide to speak again: "When you feel like hurting yourself again, call me right away. I'll help you" he just nods and falls asleep 2 minutes later. I sigh as I continue holding him. It makes me really sad thinking that Stolas, the once always smiling and silly prince, just thought that he deserved to self harm. I once though he was annoying, I though he was just a horny bird that was using me as his toy. But I got to know him, and the most important of all, I learned to love him. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure he's safe and happy

Fic Ideas I don't feel like writing, and if someone does, tag me.

Some are a bit angsty (especially this first one. Sorry, i have a dark mind. In fact, that's my favourite)

1- Stolas, after seeing Via like we've seen in sinsmas, is in a really bad mental place, worse than before. So he just stops eating, doesn't talk much, has panic attacks often, and self harms. Blitzø knows of his relationship with food and panic attacks, but doesn't know about his self harm. One day, Stolas locks himself in the bathroom and does THAT. He accidently does a cut too deep and he starts loosing too much blood and feels himslef passing out. The only thing he brings himself to do is call out Blitzø's name. And things escalate from there, with Blitzø cleaning his cuts and helping him calm down and cope with it

2- (this one is a bit comic) after the little dance they had on sinsmas, Loona, Millie and Moxxie, since they saw and registered everything, are rubbing it in their faces and jokingly making fun of them about it

3-Just Stolitz cuddling and joking on the sofa, playing with each other

If I have any other, I'll write them down

[neverfittedin]

@theknifeinyou | liked this & gets a starter for illiyana or rylan

Like any good big brother would do had Nick invited himself to his sister's birthday party which she was celebrating with a bunch of friends. Granted, in the end she wasn't as bothered about it as she first pretended to be, but it had been fun nonetheless. At some point he had wordlessly headed outside though, found a spot on some stairs to sit and had lit up a cigarette, enjoying the silence of the night when someone else came outside as well. "Didn't think anyone noticed my absence."

[lykosog]

A  HAND  RAN  THROUGH  AUBURN  CURLS,  ACCOMPANIED  BY  THE  SIGH  THAT  LEFT  HIS  LIPS.  Ever  since  Sansa  had  gotten  back  to  the  apartment  she  had  stayed  in  her  room.  Shutting  herself  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  And,  while  he  had  thought  it best  to  let  her  have  some  space,  he  couldn't  help  but  worry.  He  remembered  how  excited  and  happy  his  sister  had  been  —  the  smile  she  had  on  her  face  when  she  left.  The  emotions  that  came  after  the  disappointment  could  only  match  that  previous  intensity.

So  eventually,  a  soft  knock  on  her  door  would  be  heard  ❝  Hey  ❞  Robb  began,  his  voice  still  perfectly  audible from  outside.  As  was  probably  the  concern  in  it.  Even  to  his  own  surprise,  he  wasn't  feeling  angry  at  that  idiot  for  whatever  it  was  that  he  had  done  this  time.  Not  even  glad,  as  he  thought  he  might  be  when  she  finally  realized  he  was  not  right  for  her.  What  mattered  to  him  now  was  how  it  had  affected  Sansa  and  figuring  out  whatever  he  could  do  to  make  her  feel  slightly  better  ❝  can  I  come  in  for  a  sec  ?  ❞

Plotted starter for @messianique

[10001gecs]

i think there’s something to be said about how the gig economy makes things ostensibly more convenient but also worse. and not just like, doordash guys take too long to get to you so your food is cold. but because the business model is centered around a million people doing work without any familiarity with what theyre doing and decentralized from the businesses they’re working with, you get service that’s being reinvented from scratch every time it’s purchased.

it happens all the time that I’ll order an uber and when they pick me up, they’ll just stop in the middle of the street with their hazards on, making me dodge traffic to get to them and pissing off the cars around them. and then I’ll get in the car and chat with the driver and find out they’re actually from two counties over and they’ve never driven here before, so they don’t know where parking is or whether they’re heading to a wide open parking lot or a busy downtown. and then you start to realize that they’re not being a dick, they’re just given as little information as possible every time they pick up a ride so they have to just guess how and where to pick up a passenger. and since they’re paid by ride, they’re incentivized to pick you up as fast as possible. and all the people who cared about finding a safe place to pick you up quit the app or stopped doing that so all you’re left with is the pissed off cockroach motherfuckers.

and then you see that this happens with every fucking app. doordash sucks because you pay 8 million dollars for delivery and you still have to hike half a mile to find the guy because he got lost in your apartment complex. Instacart sucks because the guy picking your groceries couldn’t care less about getting ripe fruit and replaces your heavy cream with shaving cream. customer support for all this sucks because the guy helping you can’t do anything more than offer you $5 credit, beg for your forgiveness, and hope you get out of the queue fast enough for him to go to the bathroom. because all of them aren’t given enough time to do a good job or enough money to care.

and every time a gig worker makes the experience suck for you, it’s a rational decision. they’re evaluating the money they’re being paid and if it’s worth getting paid less to do a good job, and correctly deciding that it isn’t. so you can’t even get mad, because you’d do it too. and so the company manages to pass on its race to the bottom to its lowest-paid employees.