#i am willing to talk about my past hurts (when i get back) and my experience

[gguk-n]

Hello there! Love your work on the Max Verstappen x reader fiction. If it isn't too much, can I request an angst based on the song " All I wanted was a coffee" by Samantha Ebert? You can decide the ending but, a gut wrenching angst with kelly is appreciated. Thank you!

I hope you like this, I tried to use the song in the way that I saw fit. The reader has many insecurities and bit of mommy issues. Mention of cuts and bleeding.

I wish you loved me

{Reader’s POV}

Max and I started dating soon after he got out of a really long relationship with his ex. With Max being a Formula One driver; the details of his past were general knowledge, did I wish I didn’t know? Yes. Because in the pictures of Max and Kelly, you could see his eyes sparkled and he would smile so bright sometimes and I felt like I never got to know that Max. But every relationship is different; I couldn’t compare it, could I?

Max was loving, I mean every boyfriend is. He would sometimes forget important stuff but he was a busy man with an even busier job.

But it hurt when I saw Max with P or Kelly for that matter. His eyes would light up; I just felt like crap every time he met them, but Max never noticed. At the end of the day, Max was always around P while she was growing up, it was a given she missed him, right?

It got worse when Kelly started coming to races and meeting Max. The worst was yet to come; the other girlfriends started to side eye me whenever me and Max would interacted as if Max was Kelly’s boyfriend.

I was in the bathroom when I heard them; they were talking about how Max and Kelly looked cute together, they were the model family, that Max deserved better. Kelly even talked about all the gifts he got her and P recently. I just sat there in the cubical for a very long time.

I waited, I was dumb I know but no one’s loved me before and the fact that Max was willing to love me even for a moment felt like relief. I didn't want to let him go, I could not when there was a chance he would come back.

I waited like always, Max was always away having dinner with P since she missed him. She missed him a lot ever since we started dating. I never said anything since Max was like her father figure but it hurt.

One of those nights, I was sat drinking whiskey, it was in Max’s alcohol cabinet. The bottle was almost over. The snacks dried up soon after the third glass. I was sat on the floor, glass in hand when Max walked in. “World’s best dad everyone” I sang. “How much did you drink?” He laughed. He laughed at me. “You know my mother was right” I said, trying to get up. “She wasn’t really the best mom, now was she” Max commented. “Yeah but she was right about a lot of things and she was right about how difficult to love I was” I laughed. Max looked at me with sadness in his eyes, “don’t pity me Max.... How could Kelly steal you from me?” I cried. Max said nothing. “No no sorry sorry, how can something be stolen from me when it was never mine to begin with.” I laughed bitterly taking the last swig from my glass. “The alcohol’s gone Max, just like your feelings for me or did you ever have them to begin with?” I slurred.

“Y/N I” Max began. “No Max, you’re not at fault. It’s my fault for coming between 2 lovers. You should’ve told me that you loved her, I would’ve never dated you” I cried for the first time tonight in front of Max. As I steadied myself, the whiskey bottle fell and broke, and I tried to pick up the pieces but ended up cutting myself. “Hehe look Max I’m bleeding” I giggled holding up my hand. “Y/N let’s clean that up” Max said trying to hold my hand. “NO, Kelly won’t like it. I’m not a home wrecker...or maybe I am” I laughed bitterly. “Let me help you” Max pleaded. “You look at me with so much concern for the first time since we started dating” I pointed out. Max’s eyes bore into mine. I tried to walk away but ended up stepping on the glass. “Look I’m bleeding from my foot now too. At least now people can see that I’m hurting since I’ll have bandages all over me. My heart ache gets missed every time, you know. Maybe now, they might see my hurt, for once” I said with fresh tears forming.

“Mothers are always right. I’m unlovable, always been. If only I was pretty, if only I was a model, if only I was thinner, if only I was….Kelly Piquet, then you would’ve loved me. But I’m me, I’m plain old difficult to love, Y/N that’s why I’m unlovable” I chuckled. “Let’s go to the hospital” he pleaded again. “No, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Then you can have your happy ever after with Kelly” I laughed bitterly. “Did you ever love me?” I asked. Max was quiet. “I was just a rebound wasn’t I. Tell me you really loved me even for a second” I begged. “I’m sorry.” He said.

I grabbed my phone with my other hand while bleeding on to the floor; “don’t worry. I’ll clean your place before I leave” I said looking at the trail of blood I was leaving and dialled my phone calling the only person I knew in Monaco, the only person who didn’t hate me or talk badly about me, Lewis. “Lewis, Hi....I need to go to the hospital. I’m bleeding” I giggled. “Are you drunk? How did you hurt your self? Where are you?” He asked concerned. “Yes, yes, home no wait, Max’s home” I answered. I heard him sigh. “Where Max?” He asked. “He’s here” I said looking up at Max. “Ask him to take you now?” Lewis suggested. “NO, we broke up, and ex-boyfriend’s don’t take their ex-girlfriend’s to the doctor” I explained. “What?” He asked shocked. “Please Lewis, it hurts. Can you come soon?” I asked. “I’ll be there soon” Lewis said and cut the call. I sat there and looked at Max, “The whiskey tasted sweet as always and you sobered me up so fast” I sighed looking at the mess I had made.

Lewis came to take me to the hospital; he did not speak to Max. I guess even he knew what was going on. I didn’t see Max again after that either.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

slipping through my fingers

pairing: ex-husband! leon x ex-wife! reader

tags/cw: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, p-in-v (unprotected), breeding kink, chris and rose make an appearance, exes to lovers, periodic pov switch

summary: previously absent-father leon comes back into reader's life when he decides to step-up as a father to their daughter, june

a/n: this is a commission for @mikadayo !

wc: 5.3k

taglist:

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It was supposed to be over. It was over. You finalized your divorce with Leon and got full custody of your daughter, June. It's hard being a single mom, but making the choice to become one was an easy one. You'd do anything for your little girl, and that includes making sure she has a stable home life, which was something she'd never get with Leon.

He had his chances to see her. You were willing to let him have her on Father's Day and New Years Eve, even Spring Break once, but he never took you up on your offers. Work was always too busy.

Whenever your daughter asks about Daddy, you tell her, "he's busy working to make sure the world stays safe."

"He's gonna make sure there's no monsters under my bed ever."

"That's right, honey. No monsters can get you because your dad is gonna make them go away."

She doesn't know about Umbrella, STRATCOM, the DSO, or why he was sick for a little while and had to go to a special facility before he could come home. ‘Parasite’ is not a word in her vocabulary.

But one fateful Saturday morning, Leon - older and more sober - stands at your doorstep.

With a coffee mug in your hand and slippers on your feet, you open your front door, assuming it's a neighbor who got your mail by mistake or a kid selling girl scout cookies. But, luck isn't on your side today.

"Good morning," he says, all cheery and nonchalant.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

June - who seems to have phenomenal hearing this morning - chimes in, "that's a bad word, ."

"I'm an adult, so I can say bad words sometimes," you say, hoping it will be enough of a response for her, but her nosiness prevails.

Peering out from behind you, she realizes who you're talking to, and pushing past you to see him, she exclaims, "Daddy!"

"Hi, sweetheart," he says, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

Full of excitement, she talks a mile a minute. "I missed you so much. I have to show you my Barbies and my science project and - Oh! we're having pancakes for breakfast because  makes them on Saturdays with chocolate chips and-"

"Slow down, June bug," he says with a smile identical to hers. "Let's do one thing at a time. First we have to make sure that your mommy is okay with me hanging out with you today."

"Of course she is!" June says, turning to you. "Right, mommy?"

You sigh. "Of course I am." You make a face that only Leon can recognize as annoyance. Not anger, just irritation. You wanted him to make an effort, right?

Leon listens eagerly to everything about My Little Pony and the ant farm at school while you clean up breakfast and make yourself slightly more presentable. Leon looks better than you'd like to admit, and whether it's to spite him or to impress him, you decide you need to look decent in front of him too.

"Can I talk to daddy for a minute, honey?" you ask.

"Okay, but only for five minutes because we're gonna watch a movie."

You can't help but laugh at the fact that she tries to hog her father - your ex-husband. A man who was once yours, who you used to love. 

"Okay five minutes," you tell her, as you give Leon a nod in the direction of the kitchen.

From the kitchen, you drag him out the back door, onto the porch and you can see in his face that he is prepared for the talking-to that he's about to get.

"You can't just show up unannounced,” you whisper-yell at him in the way that parents do. 

"I know, but I was in the area and-"

"No. You should've called me."

"I did, but it went to voicemail."

"When?"

"A few hours ago."

"I was asleep."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I always sleep in on Saturdays.” It irks you how he forgets the simplest things about you, and you almost let yourself get consumed by the urge to keep arguing, but then you remember why you’re both standing here. “This isn't even about me. You can't do this to her."

"Do what? Hang out with my daughter? She's happy. Look at her."

"She's happy now, but what about when you leave? What about when I have to calm her down when she's crying because she misses you?"

"Just tell her I'll be back."

"But that's not fucking good enough, Leon! That doesn't mean anything. You've been gone for years."

"What do you want me to do? Leave now?"

You peek inside to see your baby girl smiling to herself.

"No."

"We'll figure something out, babe, I swear."

"Do not 'babe' me. We're not doing that."

"Okay, sorry."

You can't tell if his ‘sorry’ is an apology or a way to get you off his ass for the time being.

Leon knows this isn't the ideal scenario, but he prays that the old adage, 'better late than never' proves itself to be true.

He really is sorry. 

Sorry. It never comes out quite right, his mouth is still learning how to mold itself to fit that word. He hopes the look in his eyes gives way to the fact that he means it. 

Regardless, you cut your lecture short after peering in the window at June who is patiently waiting in front of the TV for him to come back.

Leon rarely ever relaxes. His job puts him constantly on edge, waiting for the industry's latest bioweapon to tear his head off. But, with June in his lap, the two of them both fall asleep while Mulan remains on the TV.

You wake June up for lunch, which stirs Leon as well - he never likes having his sleep interrupted but when he finds out you've made macaroni and cheese (and he's allowed to have some), all is forgiven.

That afternoon, Leon feels you staring him down like he's an inmate and you're a prison guard. He feels a little guilty, though he's committed no crimes. He shouldn't be here, he should be home, away from the sacred space you've created for his little girl. If he loves her, he'll let her go.

No. He said that about you, and so far, it hasn't worked.

If he loves his little June bug, he'll hold her tight.

So, Leon comes back the next weekend, announced, like you asked, though maybe he should've been a bit more specific about his intentions.

"Are you guys gonna watch a movie?" you ask. "Or are you gonna show dad your new toy?"

"Actually," Leon cuts in, "I was thinking about taking her to the fair." 

Leon’s not a man who typically walks around with a mind full of adventures - you were always the one to plan the dates you went on together. This idea came to him when he looked up 'things to do near me with children', and found an article that mentioned the county fair. 

"The fair?" You look apprehensive. 

You were never this way with him, you would go anywhere with him - at least, in the beginning, back when you were absolutely smitten with him. God, he misses those days. 

But, maybe Leon should have considered the concerns that you might have about him taking June to the fair. However, the website he consulted didn't give him any instructions on 'how to convince your ex-wife to let you bring your child here' - the only directions consisted of an address that he could type into his GPS. 

"Yeah, I heard it's this weekend and I think it would be a fun time, you know, we could ride some rides, get cotton candy…"

"Cotton candy!" A voice from behind Leon calls.

"I'm worried about June getting on those rides, I mean, they can't be entirely safe."

"I promise, I'll make sure she's safe."

"Mommy, please." It seems to be June who convinces you, though Leon does mimic her pouty puppy dog face.

"Fine, but you need sunscreen, and I don't want you eating too much junk food." Leon tries his best to keep up with all your instructions, though he misses some, in particular, he forgets your insistence that he "keeps you updated the whole time."

"Got it," Leon tells you, overconfident in his listening skills when he's got an excited little kid pulling him out the door.

"And you better not be taking her on that bike, Leon Kennedy!"

"Can I have your car keys?" he asks sheepishly.

You grab them off the counter and hand them to him. "If you crash my car so help me God-"

"I won't." Not while his girl is with him. He drives under the speed limit with her buckled in her carseat. (You had to help him with that, and honestly, you seemed grateful that he asked you, rather than doing it himself and risking messing it up.) Leon knows you think he’s a fuck-up. 

The fair is a 5 year-old's dream. (Also, a grown man's dream, though Leon would be reluctant to admit that.)

"Can we get a funnel cake, daddy?"

“Hell yeah, we can."

"Mommy says 'Hell' is a bad word."

"She's right. I'm sorry for saying it." Maybe you'll accept a funnel cake as an apology, he thinks.

June gasps, and Leon's protective arm flies out of his jacket pocket to wrap around her, stopping in its tracks when she says, "they have fried Oreos!"

"They make those?" Leon has died and gone to heaven, he's sure of it.

The fried Oreos taste 'fucking amazing', though Leon stops himself from saying that in front of his daughter. They're truly the pinnacle of American cuisine.

The fair is like a casino, both in the sense that it drains your wallet and makes you forget how long you've been there. They have the spinning teacups, the petting zoo, the carousel, everything a child's mind could dream up.

"I remember your mom and I kissed at the top of one of these once," he tells June when they're on the ferris wheel.

"Ew! You could've given her cooties!"

"Cooties? You still believe in those?"

"Yeah, if a boy touches you, you can get it."

On second thought, cooties absolutely exist. His little girl isn't having a boyfriend until she's 25.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot - you can get it when you're a kid, but I was an adult when I kissed your mom, so we didn't get cooties."

He spares her the details of what really happened on that ferris wheel. His daughter will never hear that story.

That Saturday is one of the best days of Leon's life - second only to June's birth.

That is, until he drops her off at home. You are pissed like he's never seen before.

"Oh, you're alive!" You take June in your arms and kiss her on the cheek.

You do not look as happy to see him. "Leon, I was worried sick about y- her!"

He hears the almost slip of the tongue. You. You worried about them both. You worried about him.

"I'm sorry." And, he means it, really.

"Mommy, it's okay," June assures you. "Daddy won me this." She hands you a teddy bear.

"How'd he do that?"

You look at him, almost suspicious, but he gives you a proud smile, and says, "I won the game where you have to throw darts at the balloons."

"No way! Those are rigged."

"Nope. You're just not as good at them as I am." They probably are rigged but Leon's job has given him superior aim and reaction speed.

Your reluctant smile says you're impressed with his skill.

And, that smile widens when he says, "I got you something too."

"Oh yeah?" The look you give him is one he’s always treasured. He’s always dreamed about making your eyes light up like that again.

"Here." He hands you a styrofoam takeout box, and watches you as you open it.

"Funnel cake!" Though you always say June got her smile from him, he swears you smile exactly like she does.

A funnel cake? How are you supposed to stay mad at him like this?

When Leon is about to exit after saying his goodbyes to June, you stop him. "I'm gonna go put her to bed, and then we're going to have a talk."

A lecture. Not the kind of ‘talk’ he likes.

"Mommy, I want daddy to read me a story."

Leon might have a convincing face, one that works on you nine times out of ten, but June's works ten times out of ten.

You give Leon a pleading look - something you wouldn't have expected to do since your divorce - and he says, "yeah, of course."

"I expect you to be good," you tell June when you hug her goodnight. "You know the rules: brush your teeth, put on your pjs, one story, and then lights out."

She nods, though you expect her to push the envelope. And, you expect Leon to cave to her wishes. But you have a date with that funnel cake, and maybe even a beer - you never drink when June is around, but you realize, when you find one in the back of the fridge out in the garage, that you're beginning to trust Leon. If, God forbid, you ever got even the slightest bit drunk, you know he could take care of June. 

Leon finds you on the porch with a half-finished beer and an empty box where the funnel cake used to be. You smile like a child in that you're completely unashamed, or unaware even, of the ring of powdered sugar around your mouth. 

"I thought you'd save some for me," he says. 

"You thought wrong."

"It's kinda funny that you're the one with the beer in hand. It feels like it was always the other way around."

It’s not that funny at all. 

"That's 'cause it was."

He pauses - you half expect him to apologize, but he doesn't. 

"How was she?"

"Good. She fell asleep while I was reading to her."

"The first book?"

"Are there usually more books?"

"Unbelievable! She always begs me for 'one more story', and I'm such a softie. I always give in."

He laughs. A beautiful laugh. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

"She was probably tired from her long day out." You give him the 'you're in trouble' look that June never gets. 

"I'm sorry. We were having a great time."

"I almost called the police, Leon. I thought you two had died."

"Died? She's safe with me. Always." He pats his hip where Matilda resides, holstered under his jacket.

"You brought a gun into my house? Into my baby's bedroom? I don't want that thing anywhere near her!"

"Chill. The safety's on, and she can't get to it without getting past me, and I've got fast reflexes."

"Oh yeah? I could just-" You reach for the gun, but he grabs your wrist. Then, you think you can catch him off-guard with the other hand, but he's one step ahead, immediately grabbing your other wrist before it gets anywhere near the gun. 

"No, you can't."

"You expected me to do it."

"I expected the second hand after the first. I'm just paying attention."

"Let go of my wrists."

"Will you behave?"

You scoff. "Yes." 

You don't want to 'behave', you want Leon's hands pinning your wrists to the bed. You shake off that thought quickly.

To 'prove that you can outsmart him', you try to grab his gun again when he lets you go. Of course, he stops you. You've never gotten past him. Not when you used to 'play-fight', not when you tried to sneak up on him, not now.

"What do you think you're doing?" He's trying so hard not to laugh, you can see his lip twitching. 

"Fine. You proved your point."

But he doesn't let go yet. "Do you wanna know what I told June earlier?" he whispers. 

"What did you tell her?"

"When we were on the ferris wheel," he enunciates every syllable in 'ferris wheel' and you already know where it's going before he says it, "I told her we kissed on one of those a long time ago."

He must see your worry because he adds, "don't worry, I didn't say anything more about what happened."

About how his hands were under your skirt, and his fingers were knuckle-deep inside you.

“You better not have told her about that."

"I've always kept it a secret. Just between us... and probably the guy operating the ride and people waiting in line who saw your shaky legs and blushing face."

"Shut up!"

"That was my line." He lets go of your wrists, and you're too stunned to do anything. 

It becomes a routine - Leon comes and sees June on the weekends. You know it's going to end one day. He'll leave you both behind. He always does. Sometimes it's work, sometimes it's other things (though you always tell June it's work). 

You wait for him the next Saturday. You've never really set a specific time for Leon to come over because that would be setting expectations, and you've learned that with him expectations just lead to being let down. But, he's later than usual. The pang of anxiety is a familiar one. 

Finally, he shows up, and when he pulls into your driveway, you nearly cry. You care because June cares. At least, that's what you tell yourself. 

"I think my little girl should come stay with me for the weekend," Leon says, and you wonder if saying it in front of June is a strategic move on his part. You can say no to him, but not to her. 

She jumps up and down with joy. You'd think she was just told she's being taken to Disney World, not her dad's apartment. 

"I don't know about this..." You try to shut the idea down. "I mean, you don't even have a carseat, Leon, how can I expect you to have a toothbrush for her? Do you even know how to comb her hair? And, what about her allergies?"

"She's allergic to peanuts and bees, I remember. Her blood type is A positive. She likes watermelon-flavored toothpaste. And Chris told me what shampoo he buys for Rose and how he does her hair."

You're impressed to say the least. "And what about-"

"If I need anything, I'll call you. Okay?"

"I expect you to call me anyway."

"June bug, will you remind me to call  if I forget?"

"Yes," she says, standing up straight like a soldier. 

Would you normally trust your five year-old to remember something crucial? No. But, you know she'll want to say goodnight to you. You're surprised she's willing to stay over at someone else's house, let alone excited about a sleepover. She's always been attached to you. You and June have existed as a duo since she was born. 

It takes you at least an hour to pack everything. You fill two suitcases - and admittedly, it is hot to watch Leon carry them both to the car with no trouble. 

But that rush of arousal lasts for two minutes maximum. You watch them drive away and realize June left without hugging you goodbye. She usually hangs onto your leg like a koala bear and you have to peel her off of you. You only got a wave from Leon. 

It's like her first day of kindergarten all over again - when you teared up at the bus stop watching her climb onto the school bus. 

The only thing that gives you peace of mind is that your baby girl is probably over the moon right now.

She is, and so is her dad. 

There's a singular moment of nervousness on June's part when Chris comes over with Rose. His giant frame and resting face can be intimidating to adults, so he's like the boogeyman to children. Ironic because he's a good father figure, one Leon looks up to. 

Leon tries to coax June out from behind him where she hides from Chris, but the one who successfully gets her to feel safe enough to do so is Rose, who is only a bit older, and a bit taller than June. 

“Don't worry. He's not scary. He fights monsters."

"My dad fights monsters."

"He also plays Barbies sometimes."

Leon stifles a laugh. 

"Let the record show that I play as Ken," Chris insists.

June comes out of hiding to announce that, "My dad is Chef Barbie."

"Is that right?" Chris says, shooting Leon a look that says, 'who's laughing now?'. 

"Well, I would've been Lifeguard Barbie but she was already taken."

The afternoon consists of Lifeguard Barbie saving Chef Barbie, who cannot swim, and ends up in the hospital where she is taken care of by Doctor Barbie - played by Rose - and with a grand finale and a costume change, Chef Barbie and Ken get married. 

Dinner is pizza, which Leon did not expect to be as much of a hit as it was. You'd think he cooked a fancy steak dinner if you saw the look on June's face. 

"Mom never orders pizza at home!"

"Really?"

"She says it's bad for you."

"Let's not tell her about it then."

They also agree not to mention the ice cream sundaes that are served for dessert. 

Both girls fall asleep in front of the TV. Chris carries Rose to the car as she sleeps soundly in his arms. He's become accustomed to that, but it's new for Leon to get to tuck his baby girl into bed like this. He can't remember the last time he carried her. 

When the heartwarming feeling subsides a bit, he realizes he forgot to call you. Shit. He's going to be in trouble. 

Leon calls you from his bedroom, so he doesn't wake June. 

You sound eager to hear from them both, and he feels awful when he hears your disappointment that you're only going to get to talk to him. 

"Do you want me to wake her up?"

"No, no. If she's asleep, don't. I'm just glad you guys had fun."

"We did. Thank you for letting me take her."

"Yeah... Goodnight, Leon."

And, he can't hear the sadness in your voice, so he doesn't understand why you end the phone call so quickly. He expected you to want a rundown of the day, but sleep comes over him and he brushes it off. 

It was a bad choice to watch Mamma Mia that night. You have to pause the TV to grab the tissues when they get to Slipping Through My Fingers. It hits a bit too close to home.

Why aren't you like Meryl Streep? Would it be better if you didn't know who June's father was and you moved to a small town in Greece? 

Realistically, no. 

But halfway through the tub of ice cream you devour, you're convinced you've done it all wrong. 

You were the strict parent but you were also the fun parent because you were the only parent. Then, Leon comes around and swoops your daughter up - and with his ever-present charm, becomes the light of her life.

It's the next weekend when your heart is truly broken- when June is supposed to go to your parents house for the weekend. She usually loves staying with them because they live by the lake and she's finally old enough to swim - with floaties of course. Often, it takes some convincing to get her out the door as she's apprehensive to leave her mom behind, but this time, she says something different. 

"I wanna go see daddy," she cries. 

"You'll see daddy next weekend. Plus, you had me yesterday."

"I don't want you, I want daddy!"

Though she's the child, you're the one who sobs like a baby. You consider calling your own mother to calm you down. 

You don't even feel like yourself anymore, you don't feel like June's mom anymore. the woman your daughter looked up to, the person she loved more than anyone. Now, you feel like you're no more than a woman who lives in the same house, a woman who drives her to soccer practice and packs her lunches. Dad takes her on adventures and lets her stay up late. Mom is an evil dictator who enforces bedtimes.

You gave Leon a key to your house the weekend before. A familiar one, one with a keychain that used to be his. He used to live here. He missed it. He missed you. 

He comes over on the weekends for you both, though it takes him time to fully accept that. Leon remembers you saying that June would be at her grandparents this weekend, but pretends that he doesn't. 

When he arrives he lets himself in, and he finds you crying in the kitchen. He's not sure whether to feel better about being here or worse. He wants to cheer you up, but he worries he'll fuck up somehow. He usually does. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, though he knows he'll need to do more than that to drag the truth out of you. 

And he's right. You respond with a simple lie. A classic. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I just had a hard week at work, that's all."

He places a hand on your shoulder, comforting but begging you to turn to him. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

"You're not here for me. You're here for her. And that's all right, Leon. That's how it's supposed to be. You two still have a special relationship, but us - we have nothing anymore."

"That's not true. We might not be married anymore, but you're still my daughter's mother, and I'm still your daughter's father. We have the best baby girl. Both of us."

He looks into your eyes when he says it.

"And, I wish I could take credit for her being the greatest child I've ever met, but you're the one who raised her - up to this point."

He can tell that the last phrase throws you off. You don't cut him off, you don't try to push him away. 

"I want to be involved. I know I fucked up. Big time. I fucked up catastrophically. But, I want to be there for my girl… and for my other girl, if she'll let me."

"I'm not your girl."

But you were, and the spark is still there. The lack of passion was not your reason for divorce. Your immense love is what kept you together for so long. You were - are - head-over-heels for him. Love - it's incurable.

Now, Leon recognizes the situation for what it is, and swears he'll step up and be a father. But people lie sometimes. Leon has a thousand times now. 

Something in the back of your mind says, one more time. Hope, delusion, optimism. 

And, June, as much as her words hurt you, you've never seen her so happy. 

You explain it all to Leon while he holds you in his arms like you're his baby girl. Because you were. Because you are. 

"She doesn't love me anymore."

"She loves you so much. Just because she loves me, doesn't mean she doesn't love you. She's got a lot of love in her heart. She's a sweet girl like her mom."

Somehow, he always manages to make you feel flustered even when you're crying. 

"You're easy to love," he whispers. 

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes, I'm saying it. I lo-."

You kiss him to cut him off before he can say it. You don't want to have to say it back - because you'd be telling the truth, and sometimes the truth is hard. 

At first, he doesn't kiss you back, and you think you've fucked up, but for once, you've caught him off-guard. 

You make out like teenagers on your living room couch until Leon insists on carrying you upstairs. "I don't care if we don't go any further than this, but I'm old - and I want to take you to bed, in one way or another."

With Leon, it never stops at just making out even though you know he'd never pressure you to do more. He makes you feel insatiable. 

"Fuck, baby," Leon groans. "I missed being inside you."

Inside you - without a condom. You love him that much. 

"I missed this too," you say between moans. "I couldn't get off without thinking about you, about what you do to me."

He lifts your legs and hooks them upon his shoulders, and the new angle makes his cock rub against the most sensitive part of you with every stroke. Your mouth falls open and your head falls back onto the pillow as you let out a gasp of pure pleasure.

"Yeah? Tell me what you've been thinking about." He doesn’t stop fucking you while he speaks, the dirty talk only spurs him on further.

You can't tell him anything. The only word you have in your mind is ‘Leon’, and even that gets stuck in your throat. He's reduced you to downright pornographic moans. 

He slows the roll of his hips. "Want you to tell me," he says. 

"Leon," you whine and reach out to grab him - but your efforts are in vain, he has you at his mercy in this position. 

"Tell me."

"Every time I touched myself, I thought about when we were trying to conceive… It was the best sex I ever had."

"We can do that again, baby. Just say the word." 

There's nothing that Leon wants more than to cum inside you, you know this. 

"Please."

"You want me to put a baby in you?"

"Mm-hmm."

He doesn't even make you beg because he can't stop running his own mouth. His filthy, beautiful mouth. "I remember how gorgeous you looked when you were pregnant. God, I wanted to fuck you the whole time."

"I told you that you could have me whenever you wanted me, however you wanted me. I told you I wanted it rough and you wouldn't give it to me."

"I had to be gentle with you, baby. Couldn't risk it."

"You're still being gentle."

"'Cause you're so precious."

"You're not gonna hurt me, Leon. I want you to be rough with me."

And that's his cue to press your legs to your chest - you know he can fuck you faster and harder in this position, but you swear he manages to bury himself deeper inside you than before, too. 

It's a good thing you're alone in the house because otherwise Leon would have to find a way to shut you up. He could easily clamp his hand over your mouth, but he lets you whine unrestrained, begging him over and over for 'more'. 

"You're gonna wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, baby."

"I don't care. I need you."

"Fuck." He snaps his hips into you with increased vigor. He must not care either, not enough to stop. 

You try to tell him how good it feels, and moreover, how close you are to the edge, but it gets lost in a sea of moans. 

It doesn't matter, though, because your walls tightening around him tell him all he needs to know.

"You're squeezin' me, baby. Not gonna be able to pull out if you don't let up."

"Don't pull out."

"Yeah? You sure? You want me to put a baby in you?" 

It's all rhetorical but you nod at every question. You wrap your legs around him, forcing him to stay inside you, and you don't let him go until well after your high has subsided. 

In the post-orgasm haze, you say the words you meant to hold back before. "I love you."

And he doesn’t hesitate to say it back.  

[mxtantrights]

Hello there, ‘tis I again! Soo happy you enjoyed the boxer!jason request!! I know, i love him too :)))

Today i bring forth another boxer!Jason ask, maybe you introduce him to your friends and they can’t see past the fact he kinda looks like a brute (even tho he’s such a big softie, i truly believe this man reads romeo and Juliet while waiting to get on the ring), and so at the end of the night he’s feeling insecure cause he could see how your friends looked at him and he starts wondering if they are right and you deserve someone who’s softer and more approachable. And obviously reader shows him just how amazing he is!!

Today i yearn for some good hurt/comfort, if you couldn’t tell lol

Hope you have fun writing this one!! Marvellous works 🩷🩷

Everything goes right before the two of you get there. Thats how Jason knows something is gonna go wrong at this hang out. You told him all week that if he felt like not going, you could cancel. But he didn't want it to seem like he was blowing your friends off. So he trudged through.

He trudged through and is sitting side by side with you in a booth. And three of your friends are crowded into the other side of it. They've had a couple of drinks before you came. You weren't really in the mood to play catch up so you stick to your one while Jason goes dry because he's driving.

They have conversations about the recent news, the latest gossip, and then they ask about your life. Particularly your life with Jason. You start gushing about him, as if he isn't there, and tell them about how you met and how he treats you.

"This guy? This six foot tall, three hundred pounded brick wall?" one of them asks.

You scoff, "How he looks has nothing to do with how he treats me."

"Yeah, but doesn't he-don't you box?" another one of them asks him.

Jason clears his throat and sits up straight. But you notice it. You notice how he is trying to make himself smaller. He did it at the very beginning of your relationship, to make you less scared. You talked to him about it when the two of you got closer, and you haven't seen him do it since. Until now.

"I'm a boxer, yes. But I don't bring any of that home with me." Jason answers.

"Isn't it hard though? When you're angry? I mean who's to say you won't-" the third friend starts.

Hell. This has to stop.

"Enough." you speak.

They all look at you, at a loss for words. While it's true the four of you grew up looking like people who were afraid to tell others no, and looked like doormats, you were far from that person. Those days are over.

"I'm not gonna let you speak to him like that. He has been nothing but kind and open with me, and not that it's any of your business, but he has never laid his hands on me, or raised his voice." you say.

Then you're getting up from the booth, holding your hand out for Jason. He looks between you and your friends and then he's getting up from his seat. He takes your hand in his.

"He's my boyfriend. I want him in my life and I wanna be a part of his. So either you get that or you get lost." You put finally.

You turn around and walk right out the door with Jason. Jason who hasn't said a word yet. Jason who is holding onto your hand in a way that tells you he's not completely paying attention.

When the two of you cross the threshold of the doors, you squeeze his hand.

"Baby?" you ask him.

Jason looks at you then. Like everything is coming back into focus for him. He has a sad smile on his face.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"Don't ever be sorry for being you. If my so called 'friends' couldn't see past what you look like and what you do for a living then they don't need to be my friends." you explain to him.

Jason shakes his head, "You've known them longer than me. It's not fair that-"

"Jason Todd, I am not willing to give you up. For anyone. Ever. You got that?"

Jason lets out a small sigh. "Okay."

You let go of his hand to hold out your arms. He pouts a bit before stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you completely. You nuzzle into him more.

"I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I hope you know that." you add on.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"I swear it." you answer.

a/n: thank you so so much for sending this in! <333 I love some good hurt/comfort too!! I hope you like it!!

[nicromancytarot]

WHO IS COMING INTO YOUR LIFE ROMANTICALLY?

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what you need to know about the next person who is coming into your life romantically, pick a pile and find out what they had to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

This person is embodying the energy of the king of cups, they are giving off much more masculine energy, this doesn’t mean that they are a guy, however this person is more in tune with their masculine, leadership side. When you meet this person, they will be going with the flow, allowing life to take them wherever, and coincidentally they will find you.

I am getting the feeling that this person is new to most, if not all of you. So I’m not seeing any exes or reconciliations in this pile.

This person seems to have been going through something which led them astray or possibly ended in them getting hurt, for some this may have been a breakup.

Around the time that the two of you meet, they’re going to act like a taster for you, they’ll give you these little moments with them, which leave you waiting for more, yearning for them to allow you in some more, but you only receive a drip, a dribble of what they could actually give you.

They’ll keep this going on for a while, keeping you interested and guessing, during this time they may have you lined up as an accomplishment or trophy, they may still have feelings for an ex, and have you as a second option.

It will take a while to get out of the situationship and bring yourselves to something more committed and long term, honestly I’m seeing around 6-8 months of no label.

All while it can absolutely end well, it can give you what you desperately want in a relationship, the agony and anticipation may turn to be too much for you.

For those of you who choose to walk away from this without letting it grow or become anything more, you are making a good decision, you’re embodying the queen of wands energy, you don’t need anyone to define you or make you any more worthy than you already are.

For those of who choose to stay, be careful of your heart, make sure to protect your dignity and don’t let this person get you down, you can build something beautiful with a lot of patience and determination, however you are always ok to walk away.

PILE 2

A lot of you are getting over something at the moment, I’m unfortunately getting an ex, someone from your past who I’m not too sure that you received closure from when you last saw or spoke to them.

I do see this ex coming back into your life, if they come back during mercury retrograde, dawg bin them, we are in no need of negativity during this time! However, for those who do not come back during this current moment, either you will contact them, or they will contact you. I do see that a lot of you have some stuff to talk out with this past person.

The closure conversation won’t exactly go to plan, you may be sucked in by their drama, trauma dumping or a poor attempt to get you back. I do feel as though you will entertain this situation for a little, perhaps not too long, but long enough for some emotions and feelings to arise again.

However on the other side of things, you have someone completely new, someone who is willing to give you things that this past person wasn’t able to supply for you. This person is coming in hot and heavy, they will be very direct about what they want with you.

I feel like you’ve always been the one to make the first move, or admit your feelings, this person will turn your life on it’s head, they will be honest, direct, real and just very straightforward about what they desire.

They may say something along the lines of not wanting to be with you until you’re over your ex, this could be a drunken confession where you try to tell them that you are, and they tell you you’re not. It will either end up with you crying into their hands as they cradle your head, or some hot and heavy make out session lmao.

This person is willing to wait for you, they will be on the sidelines for as long as you need them to be. It doesn’t seem like they will be letting go easily.

The ex person is giving me twin flame vibes, meanwhile the new person is a soulmate.

So it’s either out with the old and in with the new, or out with the new and back to the old.

The choice is yours.

PILE 3

You guys seem to have gone through some type of break up as well lmao, something which forced you to let go of someone that you cared a lot about. If it’s not a relationship, then it’s a situation that had you up at night upset and stressing.

During this time there was this one person that you would confide in, this person was there to rub your back while you cried, and tell you that everything was ok.

They watched you through your healing journey, helping you become one with yourself and your expression once again, help you build yourself up until you felt comfortable in your own skin. This person is a people watcher, especially when it comes to you, they’re observing to the point of writing down every little thing about you, you could ask this person the colour of your eyes, or how many freckles are on your face and they would be able to answer without a second glance. They know you like they know themself.

This person may call you their flower or petal, you may have a flower relating name, something to do with how delicately they view you, you’re like a piece of china to them, one wrong touch and you’d break. They don’t want to break you.

They metaphorically stand by your bedside as you sleep, protecting you from every scary dream, or any unwanted negativity that could come your way, they want nothing more than to protect you and keep your safe, it’s their purpose.

You are Barbie, and they are just Ken. (No gender affirmed)

This person will wait for the right time before making their move, and when they do, they will resume leadership and continue to look after you for as long as you allow them to.

This person will love you like you have never been loved before, they will caress every inch of your skin as though you were sculpted by the Gods, they want nothing more than for you to be theirs, and them to resume being yours.

Because they will always be yours.

[daisys-reality]

─── 🍏ꜞ˖ ꒰ short messages from your DR s/o's higher self ꒱

⌇reality shifting themed tarot reading | general disclaimer | masterlist

pile one

Oh temptation, sweet temptation. Darling, you're gorgeous, inside out. How can someone be so perfect? I really wanna be gentle with you and treat you with the utmost care that you deserve. Not because you’re weak. chuckle No, because you’re so so precious to me. But damnit, my feelings and the attraction I feel are so intense. I feel like I'm going insane. I need you in my life. I would do anything for you. For hell’s sake, I would travel the universe for you too. Please don’t ever doubt me. I am trustworthy, I promise. You’re the only one who has my attention. I will protect and provide for you. And whoever dares to hurt you, will get to experience hell.

Don’t worry about your past or your circumstances, they don’t matter. Just believe, in yourself, in me or us or the universe. Focus on yourself for now, take time to recover from whatever you’re going through and release any resistance. I know it’s hard but it’s not too late. We will reunite soon! You don’t need to worry, okay? Everything will be fine.

pile two

My love, if you feel like you have too much that is depending on you, you might have to rethink following this path. It seems like your heart is willing to relax at this time, but this is not what your mind wants. You’re restless and exhausted… You know that your health is what is most important, right? I don’t wanna see you burnt out, okay? Learn to back out, when it’s needed. Continuing to fight for something that is not worthy of your life might end up being just a waste of time. You’re like a gift to me, okay? Obviously I am restless too and eager to finally be in your presence but your wellbeing is more important than any of my immature desires. I can wait for you. My love for you won’t waver. I will always love you, more than you know. Please give yourself the time you need. I will always be there for you. If you’re in the mood please tell me anything, you can even address letters to me. I would be glad if I could lessen your burdens at least for a little bit. You can talk about all your worries, your dreams etc. I will listen. So, let’s go through this together, okay? 

I want you to know that I’m truly proud of you, and I am confident that you will succeed.

pile three

I know you are my equal, my counterpart. There is no one like you. My heart and mind are committed to you. I know we’d make a strong pair. With you around I finally feel at peace, you make me whole again, you give strength to keep going. I want to be your strength too. I want to deepen our bond. I don’t wanna lose you. Ever. I am selfish and immature. I know that but what can I do? You're my other half, my world… I need you. Everyone else is not worthy enough for you. How could I sit still? I’m jealous just imagining you with someone else. Is it wrong to imagine our future together, a happily-ever-after? I promise I will work hard to make you as happy as you make me. Please give me/us a chance.

[strangersteddierthings]

Rockstar Life

It might have all been forgiven, if Eddie had called. If Eddie had called and begged forgiveness immediately.

Steve could believe- would be willing to look past one drunken mistake.

But Eddie doesn't call.

Eddie doesn't call. Not in the morning after. Or the following day. Or the next.

Steve doesn't reach out either, because how can be he expected to? Paparazzi caught Eddie shoving a mysterious man against the wall in a dark alley, captured their heated kisses and how they barely separated for long enough to get into the back of an uber, and Steve knows as soon as he sees the pictures that he won't be reaching out.

He's not the one that's done anything wrong.

It takes three days for Steve to hear from Eddie. It's a shock, a genuine surprise, because it's face to face. Steve hears the front door close, and he thinks it's Robin, come to check on him again so he doesn't even turn around from where he's making a quesadilla directly on the stovetop.

He does freeze completely when it's not Robin's voice he hears.

"Steve, I am so sorry. So fucking sorry. I can't even begin to explain how sorry."

Three days ago, Steve might have forgiven him.

Today, he's not feeling so generous. He turns the burner off and scoots the half-cooked quesadilla to the cooler side of the stovetop before turning around.

Eddie looks wrecked. Dark bags under his eyes, made even darker by his paler than normal skin, hair a type of messy Steve hasn't seen since the spring break Eddie was in hiding and unable to take a proper shower. He looks heartbroken, distraught and upset. All things Steve felt up until this exact moment. Now that he's face to face with the love of his life, he feels nothing.

"Am I moving out, or are you?"

The noise Eddie makes is heart wrenching. Steve's not so numb and hateful to not recognize that. "Babe, please-"

"Do not call me that," Steve interrupts, "not when you were probably whispering that to someone else just days ago."

"Ba-Steve. Steve, please. I swear it was a mistake. It- I was way too drunk and high to be thinking clearly-"

"I don't want your excuses, Eddie. I want to know if I'm packing my things, or if you are."

"Steve, can't we talk about this?"

That makes Steve's blood boil. "Talk about it? Talk about it? Now you want to talk about it? You should have wanted to talk about it the second you slunk from that guy's bed. Or did you have to kick him from yours? Or, worse, has it taken three goddman days to hear from you because you were still in bed!?"

"No!" Eddie cries, "no, it didn't- it was just-"

"Stop!" Steve shouts, "I don't want to hear any details! I don't care if that uber only made it a block before you came to your senses and bailed. That doesn't- those pictures- you pinned him to the wall, Eddie!"

Eddie is silent, shrinking in on himself in a way Steve's never seen. Steve pushes down the urge to comfort him.

Steve is the one in need of comfort. He's the hurt party here.

"If I were sober, it never would have happened," is all the reply Eddie finally gives. It's not good enough.

"I can't trust that!" Steve turns away, pressing his hands against his eyes hard enough to see light that isn't there. "How am I supposed to believe you? You didn't even- you didn't even call. It was like- like you didn't even know that I knew. But you must have found out. That's why you're here." Steve drops his hand and turns around. "Who told you I knew?"

Eddie swallows. "Max."

Steve nods because of course it was Max. She was the one who handed him the tabloid with the picture in it, three days ago. "So, if you didn't know I knew, you would have, what, never told me?"

"NO, no, I just- I didn't know what to say. How to say it. But then Max called yesterday and-" Eddie says Max's name with too much bite, like it's a curse. Like Max tattled on Eddie instead of exposed his betrayal.

"Shut. Up," Steve growls, "you don't get to be mad at Max for your fucking mistake! I've know you're a goddamn cheater for three days, and it's not until Max let you know that I knew, that you decided to fix it? Well, it can't be fixed, Eddie!"

"Steve, please," Eddie is crying, and Steve's seen him cry a handful of times before but this one hurts deepest. Steve's the reason for the tears, and because you don't just stop loving someone overnight, that hurts.

"No. No! I can't trust you! How many other times has this happened?-"

"Never, never I swear-"

"- Would you have ever said anything if you hadn't been fucking caught on camera?!"

"Yes, of course I would have!"

"How am I ever going to believe that?" Steve cries, "I had to learn that the love of my life cheated on me at the same time the rest of the goddamn world did! Jesus Christ, Eddie, when you said you wanted that rockstar life, I thought you meant like, big fancy house, grammy's and an invite to the met gala. Not goddamn sex, drugs and rock n' roll!"

For the first time since Steve's known him, Eddie Munson stands before him with nothing to say.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @skepsiss @afewproblems

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Home to Thrive In

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!neighbor!reader

Summary: You still live next door to Tim Bradford's mother, and when he visits for the first time in years, you have to decide if you're willing to let go of the idea of him you fell in love with.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for 4x09 "Breakdown", angst, arguments, discussion of past abuse, r is Tim's childhood friend, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: It's late. This may be terrible. I will reassess tomorrow.

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Have you talked to Mom recently?” Genny asks. When Tim doesn’t answer, she sighs and murmurs, “Don’t know why I thought you would.”

“Isn’t it bad enough that you’re dragging me back into the Tom Bradford-centric world I’ve been trying to outrun since we were kids? Now you want me to tell Mom about everything that’s happened,” Tim argues. “I’m already working on a murder case that Dad hid for decades. I don’t need more family drama right now, Genny."

“She worries about you, Tim. Just wants to be part of your life again.”

Tim's phone rings, a saving grace, and he excuses himself as he pushes his chair away from the table and leaves his sister.

“Tim,” Lucy greets. “I brought Monica Ochoa back in.”

“The woman who was killed by the gun I found in my dad’s house. Why?”

“Because I knew there was more to her story. You- you couldn’t see past the version that you wanted to see.”

“What’d she say?”

“Your dad… Tim, Monica confessed.”

Tim hangs up on Lucy, walks directly past his sister while ignoring her questions, and gets in his truck to visit his dad. To see if he’ll tell the truth when he has no other choice or if he’s really the terrible man Tim thinks he is.

“You didn’t kill Frank,” Tim states.

Tom sighs before he counters, “Sure I did. Now, come on. Cuff me. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Monica confessed.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close, and you needed to frame someone else.”

“He was brutal, abusive,” Tom explains. “She deserves a medal for what she did.”

“He was abusive?” Tim repeats.

“What? You think I’m like him? I was nothing like Frank. I taught you what you needed to know, son. You’re a man now because of me.”

“No. I’m who I am in spite of you,” Tim replies. His dad doesn’t speak, and Tim nods as he adds, “Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts.”

In the hallway outside his dad’s room, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Grey.

“Bradford,” Wade greets as the call connects.

“I need to take some personal time,” Tim says instead of a salutation.

“Lord knows you’ve stashed up enough of it. Where are you going?”

“To see someone I should’ve visited a long time ago.”

“You did the right thing, Tim. Take your time and know we’re here for you when you get back.”

Tim ends the call, then texts his sister that he’s taking her advice. He hasn’t been home to his mom’s house in years, and he needs her, needs space from his family and his station, and needs to work through the events of the week on his own. Though he isn’t sure if he’s welcome or if his mother's new home will feel the same as it did fifteen years ago, Tim gets in his truck and drives toward the last place he felt at home.

Your evening walk is refreshing, and the sunset helps you focus on the beauty of the day as you wind down.

“Sweetheart!” your neighbor calls, waving from her porch.

“Mrs. Bradford,” you greet with a smile as you step onto her walkway. “How are you today?”

“Good, good. Talked to Genny earlier, she’s visiting Tim.”

You smile and nod, unwilling to touch the sensitive subject of Tim. Growing up with him, you saw the worst parts of his childhood, home life, and father, but that never added up to you. He ran away from his mother, from love and home just to outrun bad memories. A task you know to be impossible.

“How was your book?” you ask, moving away from Mrs. Bradford’s stressful family life. “Did you finish it last night?”

“I did. You were right, the twist at the end was a shock. I thought the vigilante did it!”

“Interesting,” you muse. “I was torn between him and the builder.”

Mrs. Bradford hums before her oven beeps.

“You take care of that,” you say as you wrap your arms over her shoulders in a quick hug. “We’ll talk about the book and start the sequel on Saturday?”

“Count on it. Have a good night!”

“You too!”

Headlights reflect off your front door as you push it open, but you don’t bother to turn around and see who it is. Two of your neighbors get home around this time, and there aren’t many visitors or tourists in your area. So, when you’re closing the curtains and notice an unfamiliar truck in Mrs. Bradford’s driveway, you decide to watch and ensure everything is okay.

“Tim!” Mrs. Bradford calls excitedly as the driver’s door opens. She rushes out and pulls him into a hug, and from the way he grips her and buries his face against her shoulder like he’s eight again, you know that this isn’t just a sorry I stopped calling, Mom visit. Something happened and that’s the only reason he’s home.

“Welcome home, Tim,” you whisper before you pull the curtains together and put the distance you’re used to back between you and Tim.

You kneel by your front door to tie your shoes. Then you untie them and loop the laces differently. Knowing that Tim Bradford is next door makes you hesitate to go outside. Yet, you don’t want to let him impact your life more than he already has. It wouldn’t be surprising to learn that his mother already told him about your downward spiral, how you fell apart when he left without so much as a word. As a kid, you fell in love with Tim Bradford, and you stayed in love with the idea of him in high school. Then, when he disappeared without a word or trace, and you only found out that he was a cop for the LAPD through his sister, you decided that the idea of him was as good as you would ever get.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself as you stand and lay your hand on the doorknob. “It’s just the man who has occupied your every thought for years. Just walk by.”

The magnitude of your mistake hits you in full force when you’re nearly past Mrs. Bradford’s fence. Tim says your name and your heart clenches at the realization that you remembered his voice so well. Years of hearing it in your dreams will preserve your memory like that.

“Tim,” you reply, swallowing as you face him. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

“It wasn’t exactly the plan. Genny showed up and everything just kind of blew up in my face.”

Kind of like what you put me through, you think. Rather than saying it, you nod sympathetically.

“Did my mom… did she tell you about my dad?”

“Tim, your mom tells me a lot. But no one close to your mom has brought him up in years.”

“Wish my sister had gotten that message,” Tim scoffs.

“I hope you enjoy the time with your mom,” you interrupt. “But I’ve got to get going.”

“Right,” Tim agrees. “I’ll see you around.”

You nod but feel your chest tighten as you hope he’s wrong. Losing Tim Bradford again is not an option, so you refuse to let him closer than he needs to be.

“I didn’t know she moved with you, still lived next door,” Tim muses as his mother ushers him inside for breakfast.

“You don’t know much,” she points out, not unkindly but not untrue. “She knows more than you. I’ve told her everything Genny passed along. You were so close as kids.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees before he trails off. He remembers being friends, but not the kind of friends that would ask about each other. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

“Well, you can hardly blame her.”

“What does that mean?”

Tim’s mother looks at him and presses her lips together. He has her eyes, but he doesn’t have her understanding or the intuition about people she tried to instill in him when his father wasn’t trying to teach him to be a man.

“If you can’t see it, Tim, it’s too late to explain it. She’s coming over for lunch and our duet book club tomorrow. You have thirty hours to read the book if you want to participate.”

“Thank you for letting me come home, Mom.”

She lays her hand on Tim’s shoulder and promises, “You’re always welcome here, Timothy.”

You knock on Mrs. Bradford’s door while Tim’s truck is gone. With one of her signature ceramic loaf pans in your hands, filled with your favorite cookies, you wait for the door to open to return her dish and offer some goodies.

“Sorry to…” you begin as the door opens. “Oh, Tim. Sorry, your truck was gone so I assumed your mom would be here.”

“She borrowed my truck to do something that she refused to have help for. Come on in.”

Tim opens the door for you, and for reasons beyond your comprehension, you accept his invitation and walk inside. After you set the pan on the counter, you turn around to leave, but Tim is leaning against the table and watching you.

“Enjoying your time off?” you question, wringing your fingers together behind your back.

“I am. Especially after the last case I worked on,” Tim answers. “My mom hasn’t told me much about you.”

You hum and look at your feet as you reply, “Not much to tell.”

“She seems to tell you a lot.”

“Look, Tim, I’m just trying to respect your boundaries. She told me that your dad was involved in something, a murder, but it’s not my business.”

“Frank Ochoa,” Tim interjects.

You furrow your brows as you ask, “Monica’s husband? But that was a robbery.”

Tim tilts his head to the side as he says, “My dad admitted to killing him. He was protecting Monica.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“What?”

Tim stands from the table, his crossed arms falling to his sides. “You knew something and didn’t tell anybody, didn’t you?”

“Tim, I-“

“Look, I’ve been lied to by too many people this week. You still have the same tell you did in elementary school. What did you know?”

You clench your jaw and step to the right to go around Tim, but he moves to block you, and rather than running into his chest, you retreat further into Mrs. Bradford’s kitchen.

“This case – the people there – have been lied to, we’ve been wrong, there’s been no justice for decades. And you’ve known something the whole time? How can you live with that?”

“How can I live with it?” you repeat incredulously. “How was I – a child, Tim – supposed to go to the police and tell them that I saw Frank beating Monica over and over? They wouldn’t have believed me!”

“You didn’t try!”

“Yes, I did!” you yell. Wiping the single tear that managed to escape in your memories of the only time you tried to help your neighbors, you lose some of your fight.

“Doesn’t seem like you tried very hard,” Tim adds under his breath.

You laugh once and shake your head. “I told the police your dad was beating you, Tim. You know what happened? They came and asked him about it. He denied everything. After they left, he took you out into the backyard and demanded to know who you told. So, see if you can wrap your cop brain about why I was scared to tell on someone else.”

“I didn’t know you-“

“You didn’t know anything, Tim.”

Tim scoffs and argues, “Oh and you know so much about who I am now because of what my sister tells my mom?”

“At least I talk to your mom, Tim,” you snap. Immediately, you regret it. “I’m sorry,” you offer.

“I couldn’t,” Tim defends.

“Did you try?”

Tim’s truck rumbles as his mother returns from the store, and you hold Tim’s stare until the engine shuts off.

“Can I leave now, or do you want to blame me for something else?”

Tim steps back and opens his mouth, but you storm past him before he can say anything else. You return to your house after you hug Mrs. Bradford and tell her about the cookies. The idea of Tim Bradford that you’ve clung to since childhood is growing fuzzy around the edges, and alone in your house, you cry over what he told you today, the mistakes you made, and the loss of the Tim you were born to love.

Someone knocks on your door the following morning, and you stare at it rather than walking toward it.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” Mrs. Bradford calls.

With a sigh, you stand and invite her in, not caring if she notices your teary eyes or unusual attitude.

“I thought you might want someone to talk to. Somewhere away from my son,” she explains as she leads you to your dining table. “So, I brought food and company. Choose what you want.”

“It’s not just Tim,” you explain. “I mean… he was right, but it’s different.”

“Different than when you fell in love with him?” she guesses.

You look up at her, wide-eyed at her question. She smiles and gestures for you to continue.

“I’ve been dreaming about him coming back, thinking that we could pick up where we left off, but he’s nothing like what I remember.”

“Time will do that,” she soothes, taking your hand over the table.

“It didn’t do it to me.”

“Sweetheart… you didn’t let it. I love you, you know that, but you cling so tightly to the past, to the familiar, that you haven’t allowed yourself to adapt to the beauty of the growth and changes around you. Haven’t even let yourself show the woman you’ve become.”

You lick your lips before sniffling and asking, “What if I don’t like it?”

“But what if you thrive in it?”

Wiping the back of your free hand across your face, you clear your tears and nod. You know that Mrs. Bradford is right, but you also know that there will be pain in the beauty when you choose to move forward.

“Does he hate me?” you whisper.

“Timothy? I don’t think he could ever hate you.”

“He can sure blame me for a lot, though,” you point out with a wet laugh.

“Beating himself up over that at the moment, if you’re wondering. And, when you’re ready to talk to him, maybe you should try getting to know who he is today.”

You nod and pull a homemade candy from her special-made meal. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, are we going to keep crying over silly boys or try to solve a murder mystery on a pioneer plantation?”

Dressed in your favorite outfit, you shift from foot to foot on Mrs. Bradford’s porch as you try to get your courage up. Just as you lift your hand to knock, a throat clears behind you. You spin around quickly, then release a breath and press your hand over your racing heart.

“You could have told me you were back there sooner,” you point out softly.

“I wanted to see where this was going,” Tim answers, closing his tailgate. “Listen, about the other day-“

You raise your hand to silence Tim and shake your hand. “I came over here to talk to you. About more than that. Do you maybe want to go somewhere to do that?”

Tim nods and opens the passenger door of his truck, offering his hand as he helps you in without a word. The drive to the local high school football field is quick but silent, and when you exit the truck and join Tim on the tailgate to watch the sunset, you take a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that with your dad, the house, Frank, all that,” you begin. “But I’m sorrier that I didn’t do more back then.”

Tim nods and says, “You were right. They wouldn’t have listened, or it would’ve spooked my dad and made everything worse.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” You look at Tim’s profile and ask, “Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits without hesitation. “My dad was protecting Monica. He never did anything to protect us, but his mistress – broke half a dozen laws for her.”

“I knew that, too,” you whisper. “My mom made me stop sitting by the door after that year, which was probably a good thing. Uhm, are they going to prosecute your dad?”

“No. Not on his death bad. But it doesn’t matter. He’ll get judged soon enough.”

You nod, your eyes still on Tim rather than the pink sunset before you. His eyes have teared up, and everything inside of you begs for you to just let go.

“Tim, you’re nothing like him. You know that, right?”

Tim nods a tiny movement that breaks your heart. This isn’t the Tim you remember, not the Tim from elementary school or the one who was punished for your ill-conceived attempt to help. Most importantly, you realize, this isn’t the Tim you’ve dreamed of loving. Tim Bradford, the man before you, is who you can love, want to love, and desperately, wholly, devastatingly need to love.

With a deep breath, you release everything you’ve been holding onto. Your grip on your dreams, on your memory of Tim and what you thought you wanted, and the moment that trapped you in your position of being terrified to do the wrong thing in your efforts to do good weakens, and you feel like a flower in bloom. Everything seems new, the possibilities are endless, and you’re a new person who isn’t afraid to do right, even when it terrifies you and carries the potential to break your heart.

“Tim,” you whisper.

He turns toward you, drawn by the tone in your voice, and blinks past his tears. You shift on his tailgate and raise your arms toward his shoulders. Tim leans forward and meets you halfway, pulling you into his lap as you collapse into a hug that heals the broken edges of who you are. With Tim’s arms against your back and waist, you feel more at home than ever, and he feels the same. His mother’s house was never the home he was returning to, but a pursuit for this feeling, right in your arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur against his shoulder.

He shakes his head, tightening his grip on you, and this version of you - unafraid, complete in Tim Bradford’s arms - is ready to thrive. You won’t heal overnight; neither of you will, but it’s a start.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Tim laughs against your neck before he pulls back gently to retrieve his phone from his pocket.

“My mom,” he tells you. “If you haven’t kissed her yet, what are you waiting for? Another set of wrinkles?”

You fail to stop the laugh that escapes at Mrs. Bradford’s bluntness. Then, you realize how glad you are that he’s reading her text messages.

“Well?” you ask. “Should we kiss or wait for more wrinkles?”

Tim pushes a stray hair out of your face and promises, “None of it was your fault.”

You nod and thank him, then brush your thumbs against his cheeks. “Last time we were on a field together, it was raining. I also wanted you to kiss me then.”

“You never told me.”

“How was I supposed to tell you that, Tim?” you ask. “I… I was caught up in an idea of who we could be, and I was scared to ruin it by doing something new.”

“And now?”

Rather than asking for what you want, you take it as you lean forward and kiss Tim. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, and the first raindrop feels suspiciously like a teardrop as it runs down your face and onto Tim’s. You laugh as you run toward the truck doors, thunder rumbling as a storm approaches from the west. In the truck with Tim, you find yourself face-to-face with a better version of the dream life you craved in Tim’s absence.

Bonus:

“Get inside, it’s going to start raining again!” Mrs. Bradford calls from the kitchen when she hears the door open. “Don’t need you catching a cold on your time off, Timothy.”

You press your lips together and smile at Tim, who is drenched after offering you his jacket to hold over your head in a poor attempt to stay somewhat dry.

“She’s going to mother you, too,” he points out.

“Hey, I’m used to it,” you reply. “Like it, even.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Bradford murmurs as she appears in the doorway. “Go get dried off and change, Tim.”

After he disappears into his room, Mrs. Bradford offers you a towel and a change of clothes. She smiles as she leans in and says, “Flowers that thrive need plenty of rain to grow, you know.”

[sunny44]

Reunions on the track

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex best friend!reader

Warnings: fights

Summary: Charles and Y/n have known each other since they were five years old, but with the start of his motorsport career they lost touch.

Years later, when Charles was driving for Ferrari in Formula 1 and Y/n had a degree in photography, their paths crossed again when she was hired as the team's new photographer.

I was accustomed to the Formula 1 circus.

The roar of engines, the team's hustle and bustle, cameras always pointed in his direction. But on this sunny morning, I was surprised with something or someone to be more specific. I entered the Scuderia Ferrari pitlane and that’s when I saw her, with her back turned to him, skillfully handling a camera. Y/n. Her name echoed in his mind like an echo from the past.

I assumed from the camera in her hand that she had filled the vacancy at Ferrari.

"Are you kidding me?" Charles muttered, addressing Mattia Binotto, the head of the Ferrari team. "Is Y/n here?"

Mattia smiled, as if he knew this could cause turbulence.

“Surprise, Charles. She’s our new photographer. Y/n has an incredible eye for capturing the most intense moments of the races.”

I made an effort to control the flood of emotions rising in me. Me and Y/n had been inseparable friends since childhood, but we drifted apart over time, especially when my career in motorsport took off.

We hadn't spoken in years, and now she is here, on the same team as me.

Our friendship was perfect, we had known each other forever, and I remember our mothers saying that we would definitely get married if we just got older. Over time, I realized that I had feelings for her, and I was willing to wait until we were old enough and then confess my feelings to her. But then everything changed.

I started rapidly advancing through categories, and then I just stopped talking to her.

I stood there for a few minutes just looking at her until Y/n finally turned around, and their gazes met. It wasn't a warm and joyful reunion. On the contrary, there was a moment of tense silence before Y/n broke it.

"Charles Leclerc, the Ferrari golden boy." she said, with a sarcastic smile. "Who would have thought you'd become so famous, huh?"

Charles felt his face grow warm.

“Don’t start Y/n.”

"Don't start? You just disappear from my life when you started winning races, and I'm the one who can't say anything?"

I don't know why, but I didn't think she would be this hostile.

"I was busy, Y/n. You know how life is in F1."

"Busy or not, you could have found a way to stay in touch. But, of course, you had more important things to do than to care about me." She looked at me, hurt. "But who am I to blame you, right? After all, with fame and beautiful models hanging on your neck all the time, I wouldn't mean anything to you anyway."

Those words hit Charles like a punch in the stomach. He knew he had made mistakes, but he never imagined that Y/n was so hurt.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I should have been a better friend." She let out an exasperated sigh.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm here to do my job," she said sternly. "You just need to pretend that I mean nothing to you; I don't think it will be that difficult."

I simply nodded, realizing that the situation was far from resolved. While the engines roared in the background, indicating that I had to get into the car next.

And, of course, I spent the entire practice session thinking about how to have her back in my life.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“First day of work done”

Y/n.jpg nstagram post

Liked by @lando.jpg, @Scuderiaferrari, @charlesleclerc and @maxverstappen

Y/n.jpg My dream came true and I’m in Monaco photographing the formula 1 Grand Prix

This is the best weekend of my life and here’s a few photos 🏎️

F1 welcome to the f1 family

Maxverstappen nice photos

Liked by y/n.jpg

Landonorris hello there

Carlossainz welcome to the team

Y/n.jpg thank you

[khuzena]

Unsung prayers

Pairing: Aventurine x g/n!reader

Summary: Stop wishing for something you've already lost. You'll make a fool out of yourself. "Don't cry over spilt milk," they said. But why can't Aventurine— no, Kakavasha, why can't he stop crying? It's too hard to let go of you. You two were already about to move on but he's too pathetic to let you go.

Cw. Very angsty, unhealthy rs ehe, smut but it focuses more on like the heartbreak so yeee, I cried writing this goodnight, kinda short because i'm getting burnout from life lol

A/n: I'm sorry for not writing again like I originally promised. Working and studying overtime and things are getting too stressful. I just keep sleeping and playing Wuthering Waves :(

Aventurine is a man who trades dignity for security. He is a man who is willing to go through extreme lengths to prove that he is worthy, to prove that he is useful.

So when you two were still together, he found himself in an odd predicament. Aventurine is a man of his word, whenever he promises to spoil you with riches he doesn’t hold back. He is more than willing to blind you with exotic gems and take you out on dates you’ve never asked for.

He feels as if he has to prove himself that he is useful, that he is your tool to use for your own satisfaction and all he asks of you is a sprinkle of attention to be sure that he’s not useless, to be sure you won’t throw him away and to be sure that he is worthy of your longing gaze.

Yet affection and convenience are two things that rarely work together.

“I won’t,” You state firmly as you lock your eyes into his, “I’m not exposing your secret or your past.”

Aventurine’s voice hitches as he cocked his head to the side. “You think I’m falling for that?” He wants to fall for your words, he wants to believe that maybe you don’t see him as just a commodity or a tool.

As the shadows engulf you again in the dim room again, he wishes you were lying so he doesn’t have to deal with the hurt, “Stop.” You repeat in desperation, “Stop doubting me you dipshit.”

A wry chuckle escaped his lips when you grabbed him by the collar, “Why can’t you understand? I’m not betraying you.” He pleads with the universe that you were lying because the pathetic idea of you taking his secret down the drain hurts him in every way imaginable.

Before he could key in another word, “Stop talking, shut up.” There was a pregnant pause that filled the room before you continued, “I’m not one of your slave traders nor your buyers, I am not your master– I am just your lover.”

”My lover? How sweet.” There’s a flicker of vulnerability that appears in his gaze but he shuts it down, “Who’s to say you won't run to my enemies with my past? It’s too dangerous for you to stay with me.”

Aventurine believes that he’s served his purpose of being your convenient tool, that he can let you go now, that he’s loved you enough and that if he was too selfish to indulge more of you, he’d hurt you.

”Let me show you I won’t.”

He wants to be selfish.

“Eager are we?” His voice cracks. He could barely catch his breath, let alone take yours. His hand trembles ever so slightly at your arrogance that he reaches out to grab your waist.

He has to hold onto something, anything– it has to be something that no longer feels sane for him. That no longer felt solid. Something that could stay without the fear of letting go of again. And he has to let you know despite his walls he built for himself that despite his bravado and outward show, there was nothing about Aventurine that was stable or safe.

“You’re too much.” he stutters. “Stop doing this to me.”

”Stop talking.”

It certainly wasn’t enough to shut the gambler up. Light feathery kisses could suffice. One, two, three– you count with your fingers as you lightly tug on his collar a bit tighter. Four, five, six– he commits murder to himself, he shuts off his brain and kills himself inside so he could no longer feel.

“Stop doubting me goddamnit– Unlike those bastards, You’re not my tool.”

Seven, eight, nine– he’s still feeling, he’s not dead yet and he pleads with the universe– no, he begs mother fenge why. How could you say such a thing with unwavering confidence? How could you promise him something so tangible you could take it away so easily?

"You’re just Kakavasha."

His facade almost slips away but he has a role to play. The musky scent of your perfume drives him insane that he realises all he could think of is you. He’s not dead, he feels alive.

“You can’t just say that.” You could almost hear the bitterness and spite that lingers in his voice, the way his lips curl into a grimace before he swallows it away, “That ‘Kakavasha’ is just a product, a commodity.”

The tension between you two was thick, You know you should run. You have a whole career, a life, a future, to worry about. But something yearns inside you for Kakavasha. You can’t let go of the bastard blonde in front of you– not with the way he held you so gently in his arms even if his words reek with distrust.

“I love you.” He wants to shut his ears off.

He was sitting on the bed as your head fell to his chest. He can’t accept this– he can’t, he can’t. He wants to be selfish, he wants to but he can’t. Not when you caress his face so dearly, “Kakavasha.” And then another desperate sob, “Kakavasha– please, Kakavasha.”

Ten, eleven, twelve– He stills. Even if everything he’s ever wanted was in arm’s reach, he can’t bring himself to indulge and to hope. Thirteen, fourteen— fuck he forgot.

“This is wrong.” He whispers, voice raw, body trembling.

You two shouldn’t be doing this. You two shouldn’t even be thinking of doing this. You two were no longer an item, he thinks, even as he pulls you in closer. ‘We shouldn’t be like this’.

But it feels right, it feels so fucking right and everything else confirms that. The way your fingertips slowly snake down his trousers and how your breaths mingled together.

”Please,” He doesn’t want you to say it, don’t say it– “Kakavasha.”

He never wanted to ever hear his name again, everytime he did he pleaded with the universe to tear off his ears. He wants to sob because the only thing about ‘Kakavasha’ and the only thing he remembers of that shitty name of his was just a man who’s a Failure and an Abandoned slave.

“Kakavasha,” But when you call his name like that, he is not the pathetic leftover of the Avgins; he’s not the Kakavasha who is a Failure and an Abandoned slave.

He stays silent. He wishes that the universe turned him blind for his eyes to never lock with yours, for his senses to go paralyzed, numb– just so he can’t feel you.

“Let me love you.” You beg, reaching out for his left hand before he instinctively swatted your hand away. “Stop it.” His voice is choked, cracking, like his vision with tears. “You–“

Why is this so hard?

How could you call him like his name was something sacred– something worth worshipping. When his name rolls out of your tongue, it sounds like a prayer.

“Stop saying my name.” Aventurine’s hand shakes when you intertwine yours with his.

And with pleading eyes, you understand.

’Let’s not talk, let’s just not talk. Just feel.’

He wanted to scream when he felt your breath tickling his neck, your lips were dangerously close to his barcode, the trademark ‘Slave’ on his skin salient but you wanted to kiss him. He doesn’t want to talk so you don’t.

“I love you.” You beg for permission, your lips grazing softly on that mark of his. “Please?”

The atmosphere is suffocating– he’s drowning and asphyxiating at the same time and he could barely make out your words, he can barely– too much, too much. There’s nothing sexual, nothing intimate yet but this feels more romantic and real than anyone he’s ever fucked before.

“Please.”

He can’t respond, he doesn’t nod, he doesn’t know what to do. He knows how to act and love as Aventurine but he doesn’t know how to be normal. He doesn’t know how to be Kakavasha when he is Kakavasha.

“Is that a yes?” He tenses when your lips latch onto that burned mark on his neck.

“Just do it.” He croaks, One word– so simple yet so heavy. “I can’t say yes,” He’s grabbing your hand so tightly, so hard. “Not with words.”

He lets you, letting his head fall back onto the pillows, letting his eyes shut for a moment as your lips latch onto his scarred neck. His muscles tense, his heart pounding, his breath catching in his throat.

But his tears flow anyway, even if he wishes they wouldn’t. Even if he knows that it’s shameful.

”Don't cry,” stop, stop. You cupped his cheek gently, “Don’t cry, Kakavasha.”

Tears continue to drip while both your hands work on his shirt.

“You’re so…” You trail off. One button off, then another. “Beautiful”

Beautiful. That word was stuck with him all throughout his miserable years as a slave. He can hear his investors whisper among themselves, ‘Handsome’, ‘Beautiful’, and ‘Lucky’. There is nothing pretty about his blood stained hands. There's nothing beautiful of his wretched heart that only weeps for mercy. There’s nothing lucky about him because his life was only a gamble that he was bound to lose.

”Stop, stop–“ he begs, but he can never truly push you away, “I love you so much.”

The final button was unbuttoned as you helped him off his blouse, kissing his skin softly while making sure no part of him was left untouched.

His mind keeps racing whenever your voice echoes in his head, ‘Beautiful’, Beautiful? Kakavasha has never known beauty. Not when his childhood was marred by cruelty and violence, his early adulthood plagued by loneliness and regret.

“Can I?” A stifled moan escapes Aventurine when you hold him in your arms. “Should we have a safeword?”

Generally, it would be him asking, it would be him taking the lead. It feels wrong but oh god does it feel so right.

“Yes,” he whispers thickly, hips bucking into your hand, “Yes.”

He could only think of you, only you. His words are interrupted by a groan, a low, heavy sound in his throat. It hurts, but this– this feels right. Too gentle, so kind.

Too kind for him, probably.

“Sand.” He confirms.

The night continues, the scent of sex lingers for hours and he feels sick.

He wants to forget but he can’t. Not when you ride him for hours. Not when you put his comfort above yours. Not when he felt alive just by being in your presence.

Your voice still echoes in his head, “How’re you feeling? A-are you close?”

He could still feel your lips pressing onto his skin as he traced against the kiss marks.

”Y-yes, it’s– yes, Fuck–“ Kakavasha’s ears rings loudly whenever he hears himself, his voice cracks as he felt himself close to cumming inside you, every inch of him shaking and trembling like a shaken bottle of Soulglad, his mind filled with thoughs of you, with your taste, your scent and everything about you. You’re all he wants. You’re the only thing he’d ever want in this shitty life of his, just you, just you.

”Green light.” He begs Goddess Gaithra Triclops to save him, to relieve him of this pain.

His unsung prayers to his goddess were gone as only your name escapes his throat when he remembers the way you gently squeezed his hips as he moaned out.

“God– Kakavasha…”

Your tears pitter-patter against his chest as he shut his eyes close, “Let go of yourself for me, Kakavasha.”

And when he does let go, he wakes up to the scent of your perfume.

His bedside table with your ring waving at him. The promise ring he went through heaven and hell to get for you.

You were gone. You kept your promise to take his secret to the grave but you were still gone.

His head was in his hands as sobs wrecked his throat. God no, he's still fucking Aventurine, he stares into the mirror and he can't see Kakavasha.

He calls out your name like a prayer, this time, you do not respond.

Note: ain't proofread so pls do not attack me 😞😞😞 I'm gonna try to write more fics but m just so stress rn 😭😭

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[r0ttenhearts]

cold greetings

cheater! scaramouche x reader

sypnosis: after taking scaramouche back from a nasty breakup-situationship he isn’t the same

warnings: cheating, angst, mean scara

“scara?” your voice almost trembled, seeing him standing on your doorstep. his cheeks and nose were reddened from the cold but a sorrowed look graced his features. he looked as if he had been crying, dark streaks down his cheeks as his cold hand gripped onto the hand you held against the door.

“(y/n)..” he whispered, gaze onto the snowy white carpet of snow on your steps. the lingering resentment held awkwardly in the air. it was almost like an unspoken promise.

the anger and resentment you still held for him kept you guarded. his tears wouldn’t sway you. not this time.

“i just, i wanna talk to you. you don’t have to say anything but i have to say this to you, or i’m afraid i’ll never get a chance to again.” he spoke softly, almost tenderly. it was as if the cruelty he had hurled towards you not too long ago never happened.

“okay. talk, but then you’re out.” you hesitantly stood aside and let his shaking figure inside. it almost felt nostalgic to see him sitting at your kitchen table again. the pink on his cheeks and the thick scarf around his neck did nothing to hide the feeling you got seeing him like this, once again.

taking a seat in front of him, you noticed the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze. his focus on his fingernails, lap, the salt shaker, anything but you.

he let out a heavy sigh before looking up at you. his eye bags seemed darker than they were the last time you saw him.

“i know i have no excuse to be here. i shouldn’t be, i know that. i hate how we ended things (y/n). it’s been you and i for years, and i miss you. i miss having you around, i miss seeing your face and hearing your voice.” a shake exhale left his lips as he sat there. guilt written all across his face. “i shouldn’t have left you that way (y/n). not when you needed me the most.” he whispered the last part, knowing how much he had hurt you.

how much he had fucked up.

memories of that night flashed back to your mind. his anger, that glare he held as he tormented you with the details of the new girl that occupied his mind. his loud laughs at your feeble attempt to show him that you didn’t need him.

it still hurt, even now. you shook your head, feeling that familiar pain again. “i can’t just forgive you scara. that was really fucked up.”

“i know (y/n), and i’m sorry. i really am. it’s just.. i’ve been thinking about it more with the holiday’s coming up. i don’t want to start a year without you in my life.”

you bit your lip back at that. your sense of nostalgia was something that kept you with him for as long as you did. you yearned for the comfort of the past, begged for it. it was the one thing that felt safe, memories.

with some reluctance, you let him back into your life. he seemed different. he was more willing to do activities with you, things he had refused to do once before. some of his belongings had found a place in your home. it felt good to be around him. almost as if you two were young again, discovering the deeper parts of your relationship together as foolish teens.

but.. if it felt so good why was he so distant now? you paused, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. it was dark except for the bright game on his monitor illuminating a corner of his room, headset on his ears as he clicked away. not paying you any mind.

“hey, scara? you said tonight we could watch—“

“i do not care (y/n). let me play my damn game, won’t you? i have more important things to do than watch something i don’t care about because of your whining.”

oh. oh. without another word you slipped away, quietly leaving his apartment. if he wanted to be alone so bad he could have his alone time. to hell with him! you thought to yourself. you wouldn’t spill any tears, not this time.

you went to bed alone that night. hugging yourself and wondering why he had to repeat history, once again. you had lost count of how many times this had happened before. he would always come crawling back to you once his life fell apart, using your weakness for the bittersweet past you’d longed for.

sighing, you rolled over on your side. you wouldn’t bother him anymore, not with how things were going. you were done with him. done!

you tensed at the feeling of cold hands around your waist, warm breath hitting the nape of your neck as your bed dipped slightly behind you. “i’m sorry (y/n).. that was a dick move.”

you scoffed, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder as best as you could. “i’m tired of this scara.” you said quietly. “i’m tired of you doing this to me. it’s been years, and you never stay the same.” you say with a sigh.

scaramouche muttered apologies as he kissed along your neck. his cold hands finding a place on your stomach now as he caressed you. “i’m sorry (y/n). i’ll be better.”

a small smile flashed across your face once he turned you onto your back, leaning down to meet your lips. the kiss felt warm, unlike the cold indifferent kisses you would press against his chapped lips.

he spent the night in your bed, holding you and reminding you of the promise you had made to each other as kids. “i will always stick with you, despite who i meet along the way.”

you woke up groggy the next day, reaching out to the space next to you only to find it empty. with a yawn you made your way to your bedroom door, opening it but pausing once you heard scaramouche’s voice. he was talking to someone, but who?

“yeah i know babe. i’ll be over by tonight. i’m just busy with work stuff, you know how it is. don’t let childe come. alright bye, see you later. i love you.”

you didn’t think as you walked up to him, grabbing his phone out of his hand and slamming it onto the table next to him. “what the fuck? are you fucking serious?”

“what (y/n)? she’s just a friend. don’t get so bitchy.”

you scoffed, shoving him back as hard as you could. your hands trembled with anger. he had betrayed you again. you stupidly believed he had learned.

“fuck you. i’m done, done with this game. get the fuck out and never come back.” he didn’t say a word as he went back into your room, grabbing his jacket and leaving you there. alone.

you didn’t cry, not at first. you were too angry to cry, all you wanted to do was scream. it seemed so good while it lasted. you believed it was the last time, the last time of being apart and being no contact for months until things would fall apart for him. the way it always did.

it took months to rebuild your life without him. he hadnt reached out, not once. but inbetween drinks with kazuha you would hear about him. his new relationship, how nice his new girlfriend was. it made the drinks taste more bitter as you’d gulp them down.

once it was june you’d find yourself with kazuha on most days. your shared laughs throughout the night turned into interlocked fingers on the sheets of your bed. it was the first time in a long time that you felt good about having a relationship with someone. like a new phase of your life had begun.

a knock on your door one stormy night brought all of this to a halt. you half expected to see kazuha there as you swung open the door. “kazu- oh.” your smile fell seeing who it was. it wasn’t your white haired lover, but your ex situationship from what seemed to be forever ago. the rain slid down his dark hair as his hand went to touch yours, but you retracted it just as fast. it was just like that day in december.

“can we talk, (y/n)?”

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[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lvii - basic

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

"For fuck's sake," Hongjoong grumbled, huffing as he stood from his sitting position on the carpet, leaving Kijoong with his toys and Happy Tree Friends on. Hongjoong doesn't like him watching that but after the little misadventure Kijoong had, he figured he'd relent this once. After all, the disturbing cartoon was nothing compared to the incessant rap of knocks on his front door.

Before Hongjoong could get close, the door swung open and he almost jumped back in shock. It was not (just) because of the abruptness and booming sound, but it was also because he was met with the sight of you rushing in. His brain had barely processed the sight when you took off your shoes and pushed past him, barely sparing him a glance.

"Hey! Excuse me?" Hongjoong called out, his body moving in automation, trying to grab you to talk to you. But as his fingers graze the skin of your arm, you slapped his hand away and pointed a finger to his face (not the finger you preferred but it was fine), "Don't you even fucking start with me, Kim Hongjoong, I'll deal with you later because I have someone more important to tend to," you said, turning back to go to Kijoong. "Oh so NOW you crap on me to my face?" Hongjoong tried talking again but you didn't even bother to look back, "Bite me, asshole," you spat, surprising Hongjoong.

Hearing the commotion, Kijoong snapped his head to the sight and immediately dropped the toys in his hands when he saw you. "(y/n)!" He screeched before his bottom lip quivered and eyes water, his eyebrows furrowed and upon being pulled into your arms, he wailed loudly. It was obvious that Kijoong missed you dearly because he was holding onto your shirt and wrapped hid legs around your waist so tightly.

"Why 'y gone?" He cried out, hiccupping so pathetically that his face turned red.

You were no better.

At the sight of your little boy crying, your eyes watered and you couldn't help but feel your chest clench, in pain seeing him in such a state. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you pulled him back slightly but only managed to have his face pushed off of you, chuckling tearily as you pushed his hair back, "I'm so sorry for leaving you, buddy, I should have told you I went to see my dad," you apologized profusely but Kijoong kept crying and crying. "I-I-I look, I went and look," he said through sobs but you were able to understand what he was saying. "Yes, I know, I heard you went to look for me and you met my friend, huh?" You tried smiling but still, tears wet your cheeks as the feeling of longing and relief wash over you, "We need to talk about you running away without telling anyone but I am so so so so proud that you were not willing to just go with anyone even though they said that they were my friend," you pecked his forehead and cheeks multiple times which did not calm Kijoong down. You tried putting him back down on the floor but he let out a squeal of disapproval and instead buried his face on your shoulder. You had to calm him down and told him that you were not going to leave him again as you settle to sit on the carpet with the couch supporting your back and a koala strapped to your chest.

Neither you nor Kijoong realized that Hongjoong was watching the two of you closely yet from a distance. His heart hurt seeing his own son missing someone so bad that he just combusted into a teary mess and really, as if he hadn't blamed himself enough.

As much as he wanted to confront you and ask where you were, he knew he was in no position to do that, not when you and Kijoong were basking in each other, letting go of the longing and negative feelings. There was a twinge of jealousy in Hongjoong's chest but he was not about to admit that nor let it show. No matter how much he wanted to approach you and tell you how annoyed he was that you left without saying anything, how you two could've avoided the things that transpired in between so easily, but also how glad he was that you were okay, he simply couldn't let himself be selfish.

With a heavy heart and even heavier steps, Hongjoong quietly retreated to his room, sitting on his bed with his feelings and his heart beating in his palms heavily. He let his bedroom door open to allow the happy voices outside to fill the void of his room. But really, he was allowing himself to feel like he was a part of what was going on outside though he was alone. Due to his own action, yet again.

And it was bitter.

It made him bitter.

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[sosa2imagines]

Revenge for doll!

Warnings- Just fluff, Bucky being the best best boyfriend ever! -----------------------------------------------------

Bucky stares at you as you finish getting dressed, he notices the shine in your eyes and the way you excitedly fix your hair. He can already tell it's going to be a good day. As you turn around and smile at him, he can't help but smile back, your excitement is contagious.

“You look happy, doll.”, Bucky mentions as you prepare yourself to go to work. You nod, a smile dancing on your lips, “Yes, I am excited!!! I have been working hard on this project, and I think it's going to pay off!”

“That's great to hear!” Bucky replies with a hint of pride in his voice. He knows how hard you've been working and how much this project means to you. It's always nice to see you enjoy your work and have something to be happy about.

“Yeah, I think this is gonna be my breakthrough”, you reply with a smile. “I've been putting a lot into it, and I'm confident that I'll finally get some recognition for my efforts.”

“I’ll see you soon, bubba!” You say, grabbing your things and heading out the door. Bucky watches as you walk out, a warm smile on his face as he kisses you goodbye.

You arrive back from work within an hour of leaving, Bucky is surprised to see you so soon and asks, “Back so soon?”

Bucky looks at your face and can see clear as day, that something is wrong. He doesn't say anything though, as he knows that sometimes trying to dig into what happened right away isn't the best thing to do. Instead, he simply waits for you to speak when and if you're ready to do so. He watches you change from your work attire to your comfortable pjs and tank top.

You pouted and looked at him, before looking at the bed and Bucky was quick to be by your side. You and Bucky lounged lazily together in bed. You were on top of Bucky, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, his hand was inside your tank top, drawing soothing patterns on your back, as his other hand caressed through your hair. You’d had a bad day and you still hadn’t even spoken a word to Bucky.

But Bucky didn’t mind.

After some minutes passed away, you mumbled loud enough, so he can hear you, as if his super hearing was not enough. “Sorry.”

Bucky sighed, not bothering to shift your position. There was a small pause and he spoke softly. “What for?”

“For me being like this...” you furrowed your brows, as if he could see you. “Like what, doll?” Bucky asked. He was in no rush to speak he just wanted to hear what you were willing to share. His hands, however, were busy, rubbing against your back in soft circle and caressing your head.

“Coming home like this and spoiling the whole mood...” you pouted, taking in his cologne.

He chuckled softly as his fingers brushed against your skin. “It's okay. You've had a bad day, that's not your fault. I wouldn't want you to pretend you have a good mood, when you're hurting.”

“You don’t deserve this…” your voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Hey I've been with you for the past two years. I know that you have days that are hard. I know that you get moody sometimes.” He let out a small chuckle. “You've seen me in my worst moments, doll. I'm a big boy I can handle days like today. I've dealt with worse. Let me take care of you, let me spoil you.”

You finally moved your head from his neck, to look at him, “I'm lucky to have you...”

“Yeah?” Bucky chuckled. He moved the hand from your chin to your cheek, and lifted the other to trace a finger over your eyebrows. “You're lucky that you have me?”

“Yes.... You are too precious for me!” you tell him confidently.

Bucky hummed, a chuckle escaping his lips. His hand stilled for a moment, and he tilted his head to the side as he looked down at you. He moved moved both hands to cup both sides of your face, squeezing gently.

“I’m ready to talk now…” you voice was muffled, as he squeezed your cheeks again.

“You are?” Bucky asked softly, not really surprised. His grip was firm, but not too tight, and his thumbs rubbed against your cheeks. It was calming, his touch putting you to ease. “Alright, then. Tell me... tell me what happened.”

“Ackerman”, the moment you said your boss’s name, Bucky’s body tensed as he got a feeling this is going to be bad.

“The project I was working upon, Ackerman he gave all the credit of the project to Rosalina and promoted her.” Your eyes immediately well up, but you tried to control your tears.

Bucky's hands stilled for a moment as he thought about the implications of what you were saying. “He did that... when it was your project? The one that you spent hours on?” Bucky asked, his brows furrowing as one hand released your face to rest by his side. “That's unfair. And not right...”

“All the hard work and time, wasted and down the drain… Ackerman was like I see you have potential, but Rosalina is more capable of this”

Bucky was fuming now. “More capable? How is she more capable? You were the one working diligently on this project and she took credit for it when she did absolutely nothing. She gets a promotion, when you were the one who spent hours on this?”

“Trust me I did murder Ackerman in my head, the moment he gave her the credit and promotion.”

“I wouldn't blame you if you did.” Bucky mumbled, his jaw stiffening as he spoke. He let out a small, frustrated grunt. “You deserved the damn credit. You deserve to have the damn promotion. Not her not someone who uses her body to get what she wants.”

That genuinely made you laugh, you were happy to know Bucky remembers the office gossip you share with him. “I know but Ackerman doesn't, since then I can't stop fantasizing revenge scenarios against him.”

“Well...you know, he'd look really good with a black eye.” Bucky said the words with a teasing grin, but there was underlying threat in his tone, “I can always help you out with this, you know.” He'd do it too, if given a chance. If he ever saw Ackerman face to face, he'd give him a good punch in the face, no regrets.

“I know you will. I quit the job…” Bucky was close to giving you the angry puppy look, so you quickly cut him off “I was wasting my time there…maybe I should consider somewhere else” to that Bucky gave you a nod, though the pout was still there.

“Just for future knowledge he goes to the local bar every Friday night near the office.” That got his attention, “Does he now?” Bucky's grin grew wider as he noted your words, “And when you say every Friday night... you mean he’ll be there tonight?” “Yes.”

“Well now,” Bucky's grin was now almost sinister, “I think I'm just going to have to pay a visit to this bar tonight.” “Are you serious? No bubba, you won’t do anything.” “Fine, but I’ll be right back, I have to meet Sam for something.” He made the most adorable face, you could never say no to.

“Just Sam? No paying visit to Akerman?” “Yup and yup. Anything else, doll? ” “Just keep him alive.” It was no surprise that you had figured out his plan. “Alive?” Bucky tilted his head to the side, his grin even wider. “Huh... I'll see what I can do, but don't count on it.” Bucky chuckled, as he stood up, stretching out his arms as he did so. He then looked back at you, letting out his signature grin before he left.

Bucky was in the car with Sam, a look of concern on his face. “Kindly tell me, why am I in this?” Sam is clearly confused as to why he is there and he is trying to explain to Bucky why beating your boss up isn't a good idea. In his confusion, he keeps looking over at Bucky, who keeps shooting him a glare to try and get him to stop talking. “It's for doll's sake!”, he tells Sam bluntly.

Before heading to your boss, Bucky decides to take a detour to Tony Stark's house. They soon arrive and enter his house. As soon as they enter, Tony takes notice. “Bucky?” he asks, a confused look on his face.

Bucky tells Tony that he should give you a job, since he knows that he treats you like a sister and has wanted you to work for him for a long time. Meanwhile Sam, just looks at the two shaking his head. Tony looks at him for a moment, then back at Bucky. “You're serious?” he asks, disbelief evident in his voice.

“Yes!” Bucky gives him the angry puppy look which for some reason Tony can’t say no to, even though Tony had already made his mind, to give you the job. “Bucky, you know I've always wanted her to work for me. She's brilliant and creative, and I know she'd be an asset to my team.”

“Thank you, Tony.!” Sam tries to interfere again and explain to Bucky, “She got a new job now, we don’t need to beat her ex boss!” but Bucky doesn't listen and ignores him completely. Tony meanwhile encourages him to go through with the beating, “He deserves it for making her miserable back there, right?”

“Tony!” Sam warns him, but Tony just scoffs. “Shut up Wilson.”

Sam warns Tony not to encourage Bucky, but Tony scoffs “You know Barnes, Pepper had a boss once who treated her terribly and tried to take away everything she loved,” he explains with dramatic effects, “and I made sure to get back at them for it. It was completely justified, and I have no regrets.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in awe. “Yes, really.” Tony tells him mischievously. While Sam face palms himself. Soon the trio heads towards the bar, yeah Tony tags along, saying he and FRIDAY can help.

As Sam drives, Tony questions “what should we call this mission?” Sam visibly annoyed and worried snorts “Operation Vengeance” and Tony scoffs, “That's far too boring of a name! We need something cooler that'll set the tone for what's to come.”

“Revenge for doll!” Bucky says innocently, Sam raises an eyebrow and Tony laughs, “Now that's a name I can get behind. Revenge for doll it is.”

As soon as the trio reached the bar, Tony ordered FRIDAY to control everyone’s phones and cameras.

“This is a bad idea!” “This is a good idea!” “Revenge for doll! Ackerman!!!!!!!”

It had been more than two hours, you were pacing back and forth, waiting for Bucky to come back home.

“I'm back.” A few hours later, Bucky walked back into the apartment, the grin still on his face. His hands were bloodied, and his clothes were a bit messy. He was clearly...well, he looked like he been in a fight. “That went...incredibly well.”

“Bubba!! Are you okay?” you immediately began to check him for any injuries. Even though he is a super solider, you always worried about him, like he is a normal human being.

Bucky laughed, because he was really fine, “I'm perfectly fine, doll. Ackerman not so much, but don't worry about him.” Despite his reassuring words, there was a small cut just under his eye. You knew no matter how much you ask, he won’t tell you, so you silently kissed the cut, “My hero.”

Bucky smiled “Just protecting my doll” he said softly, cupping your chin and tilting your head up. His voice was still quiet, “Now, don't worry about the blood, it's not mine.”

“Oh, I know. He is alive...though right?” Bucky nodded, though he didn't elaborate further. “Alive enough.” Was Ackerman living? Yes. Did he have a broken nose? Yes. Had he fallen on the floor? Also, yes. Was he going to be hurting a lot tomorrow? Yes. Did he deserve every bit of it? Absolutely.

“So how about we celebrate your new job, on the couch, the counter, the bed and every single place in the apartment?” He looks at you mischievously making you blush. “What new job?” You ask, chuckling a bit.

“Stark wants you to work for him.” “Bubba! You didn’t?” you grin and Bucky nods happily.

You jump straight into his arms, “Hmm we should celebrate…” you giggle and Bucky captured your lips.

[showstopper35]

Hello! Do you still write for Tfp/Transformers Prime? If so, I have a request!

Maybe ‘cons reacting to reader dealing with a person that caused a lot of childhood trauma? If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it!! I just am dealing with a person who wasn’t the greatest to me as a kid and would really like some headcanon comfort <3

again, feel free to ignore and remember to take care of yourself!

of course! thanks so much for the request, darlin’! I hope you are doing well and my DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 💛

Megatron

-He knows. He knows how it feels to be scorned in your youth. He knows how much you hurt. He also knows that he wouldn’t be the best at comforting you, so he provides a distraction. -Every time you come to him an anxious, frustrated mess because of them, he takes you to stargaze or to read or just sit on the top of the ship in peace. -Megatron entertains you will tales of when he was younger, fighting for the freedoms he still believes in. You know he’s been hurt too and there’s a comfort in knowing you both still are yet to move on from that past, and that’s okay. You’ll confront it when you are stronger.

Starscream

-He’s not…the best at comforting people. But he is angry. So angry. Why would anyone hurt you? Especially when you were so small? He’s felt small every day of his life, he can’t imagine what sort of monster does that to a sparkling.

-Honestly, he turns into an outlet for your rage. Want to scratch something up? He finds things for you to break, things for you to throw. It's not the most healthy, but when has anything he ever done been?

-When all your anger has been exhausted, he just sits with you. That helps more, and he knows that, but he won't say anything. And that's okay.

Knockout

-Out of all the cons I think he would be the most helpful. He pampers you, taking you on long drives and god-awful drive-in movies to distract you. He's also willing to just listen to you vent to him while he's working in the medbay.

-If the harmful person comes back, you can bet he's got his saw blade out and will not hesitate to bring them down. He provides you with a free escape ride if you are ever in an uncomfortable situation.

-He is always, always ready to shower you with compliments, especially when he picks up that you've had a bad day. And if you don't feel like telling him what's going on, he will distract you with the randomest stories about himself. It always makes you laugh.

Breakdown

-You better believe that this guy's got hugs for days for you. After many, many, many threats to whomever is hurting you, he sits with you and listens to you vent.

-His attempts at reassuring comments aren't the best, but he tries. He'd much rather go pound the jerk to dust, though.

-He somehow smuggles a shitload of chocolate and ice cream up to the Nemesis for you. Most of the ice cream melts before you can eat it, but it is still delicious.

Arachnid

-The person who is hurting you is never seen or heard from again :)

-You don't mention it and neither does she.

Soundwave

-You better believe that you will never go anywhere near your abuser again. He keeps tabs on them, removing you from anywhere within a 5-mile radius of them. If you do happen to meet them, he is sending Laserbeak and they have roasted limbs from lasers.

-Records everything you say they did and privately keeps it just in case. Not to blackmail them or to send them to the police, of course.

-Lets you play with Laserbeak and pulls up comforting and funny videos to watch with you. He is as silent as ever, but that doesn't change the fact that he cares about you.

Dreadwing

-He pretty much becomes your personal bodyguard. It's a little strange at first, but you get used to his presence and sweet insistence in accompanying you everywhere, especially if you encounter your abuser.

-You can bet that if anything ever happens again with that person, they will go down in a firey explosion orchestrated by his own hand.

-Sucks at speaking to you (about anything, really. he's so stiff.), but when he cleans his weapons, he is happy to listen to you.

Shockwave

-Ah yes, Mr. no emotions. He tries...I think. He'd rather give you some weapon of mass destruction than listen to you detail all of your abuse. I mean, it's a solution, I guess.

-He makes you watch the seekers to learn self-defense and also read some Cybertronian literature on battle tactics.

-At least you can punch now and use poisons?

Predaking

-After learning what had happened to you, he refuses to let you leave his side for weeks. He cares for you and distracts you by terrorizing Starscream on the ship.

-Eventually, though, he accompanies you to meet with the abuser. You talk with them for a bit before he comes crashing down in his dragon form, scaring them into oblivion.

-It felt really good.

[lil-binuu]

˖⁺‧₊𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

PART II ₊‧⁺˖

Resolving things with Elias

1290 words

part 1

buckle up for the ride!

“Hey.”

You turned around, a key in your hand as you closed up the cafe.

“Elias, hey.”

You hadn’t spoken to each other in a couple days. You understood that Elias needed to take a break after the argument. You both needed to.

You hadn’t reached out to him at all, you thought it would be better to let him take as much time as he needed without bothering him. Still, you hoped he knew how sorry you were.

“How was work?”

“Uh, Good… How were your lectures?”

You spoke slowly. Almost trying to process the conversation that was so different from your last. Almost trying to savour the conversation as it might be your last.

“Yeah, good. I- I wanted to talk to you. Wanna ride?” He gestured to the motorcycle behind him.

“Sure.”

There was something in you so relieved to see Elias. He seemed okay; that meant he hopefully was. If he’s willing to speak to you, does that mean he’s willing to move on?

The bike ride with Elias was the most comfort you had since the argument. But there was still a pit in your stomach as you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his back.

You wanted to hold him so tight but you knew that if you did, you might not be able to let go.

He stopped at a park. You had come here before to stargaze together. A moment so sweet that it made your tongue bitter at the thought of it never happening again.

Taking a seat at a bench, admiring the orange streaks across the sky.

“How have you been?” He asked earnestly.

“It’s.. “ You stopped yourself. You couldn’t lie to him. “It’s been.. tough.”

Elias nodded.

“Same here.”

He reached out a hand.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be anymore.”

His palm grazed the top of your hand. Threading his fingers to intertwine with yours.

You met his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I have serious feelings for you and I made a mistake by holding them back. But I don’t want to let one mistake screw everything else up.”

His eyes didn’t break away from yours for a second.

Elias continued, “You hurt me. Seeing you flirt with someone else, that hurt. I mean, you told me that I was being possessive-”

“I didn’t mean it.” You cut in.

“I know. And I also know that you didn’t do it to hurt me. You did it to get my attention. The only thing I want to know is, why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Why?

Why didn’t you talk to him? Why did you go out of your way to get close to someone just to make the person you like jealous? Knowing that it could hurt him?

To be honest, you didn’t even know.

“You know you can talk to me right? It’s important to have conversations about us, about committing to each other and about a future together.”

Wait… are you kidding me?

Was Elias really going to sit there and tell you it was your fault for not initiating a conversation when he didn’t either? He was the one who let you believe he wasn’t even serious about you and yet it’s your fault for not addressing it properly?

“You were doing the same. You were also avoiding those conversations with me. You made me think that you were just messing around and wasting my time.”

“Wasting your time? You think that being with me is a waste of time?”

“Elias, I’m not ‘with’ you. I’m just here. It’s been.. how many months of sleeping together? And yet we haven’t even moved past the ‘talking stage’.”

Elias was silent for a moment, breathing heavily. This was clearly not how he wanted the conversation to go. But you had to talk about things. You were sick of just burying them and pretending they didn’t matter.

“I.. I wanted to ask you to be my partner. Make things official…. But this isn’t how I wanted our relationship to start…”

“I’m sorry, Elias, I really am, but I can’t just forget these feelings and pretend I didn’t feel them just because you decided to man up and ask me to date you.”

“Man up? Y/n, I’ve always wanted to date you, I just wanted to make sure that what I was doing was right and that you wanted it as well.”

“And by doing that..” Your voice grew softer as the emotion began to fill your throat and well up in your eyes. “You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like- Like you were just waiting around to get rid of me because I wasn’t what you wanted in a partner or..or something..”

You looked away from Elias. Leaning back and looking out at the darkening sky.

Neither of you said anything, your confession hanging in the air and dampening the space between you.

His hand that once had retreated, came back to rest on yours.

“I’m sorry you felt that way.”

You looked back at him, tears burning your eyes.

“You mean ‘I’m sorry I made you feel that way’?”

Elias pulled his hand away from yours, becoming defensive.

“No, I didn’t make you feel that way, you felt that way by yourself-”

“Well I wouldn’t have felt that way if you made me feel like I was actually worth something in your life.”

“Oh like how you made me feel like I was controlling and toxic? That I was possessive, and jealous all while you were flirting with a stranger in my face!”

You both fell silent again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking..” You said softly.

“Yeah, and I don’t know what I was thinking by bringing you here.”

Elias got up, and walked around the bench towards his motorcycle.

“So you’re just gonna walk off like last time? Leaving things unresolved so that in a couple days you can show up and we can argue again?”

“Get on the bike. I’m taking you home.” Elias had lowered his voice. He was done arguing.

You got up, frustrated.

“And leave again? Where will you run off to? To sleep with your side-piece?”

Elias stopped, putting his helmet down, and stepping closer to you.

“I’m not the one who flirted with someone else.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t worried about you.”

You said in a mutter, not even sure if you wanted Elias to hear you.

It didn’t matter anyway, you didn’t get a response.

The bike ride was different than before. Earlier, you had wrapped your arms around his waist and hoped you two could work things out for the better. Now, you wrapped your arms around his waist and felt nothing but empty.

When Elias pulled up outside your apartment building, you went straight in, not saying a word to Elias.

“What are you doing?”

You asked as you noticed him on the stairs behind you.

“I’m making sure you get in alright.” He replied.

“I didn’t know you still cared.”

“I never said I didn’t care.”

“But you made me feel that way.”

Elias sighed heavily, a pang of emotion hitting him. It was the little arguments that hurt the most.

And the truth is, he knew you were right. He had been so absorbed in everything else that he put his relationship with you on fucking standby.

“Fine then.”

He turned around, walking back out the building. You made it clear you didn’t want him there. That was all he needed to leave.

He pulled his helmet back on and revved the engine.

He almost didn’t hear your scream.

note: i promise i really tried to make it fluffy and romantic and make them work it out but it’s just not in me guys >.<

[actiniumwrites]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

synopsis: in which you find out the truth about lyney’s identity

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 695

warnings: pure angst, established relationships, breakups, reader has a past with the fatui, mentions of physical harm and death, major spoilers for the 4.0 archon quest

notes: i am officially in writers block and want to die because of it. also, i know this idea is a little old since the quest came out a few weeks ago, but i still wanted to write something about his identity. also, yes, i would forgive lyney, but this blog has not seen pure angst in awhile so…🙂

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you finally break the silence. Your arms are crossed as you lean back against one of the brick walls of the Opera Epiclese. Lyney stands approximately three feet away from you.

He’s silent, unable to answer the burning question. It’s been on your mind all night ever since Furina had so proudly announced it to all of the court. Lyney was a part of the House of the Hearth. Part of the Fatui.

“I can’t lie to you,” he carefully picks his words, terrified of further upsetting you.

Cutting him off, you scoff and turn away from him further than you already had, “What? Like you haven’t been lying to me this entire time? Real funny.”

Lyney takes a single step closer to you.

You take one back.

“Please, I wasn’t lying to you. I just left out some parts of the truth, that’s all, I swear!”

“You are part of the Fatui, Lyney. The Fatui! How can I trust you when you’re part of an organization who hurts people, kills people, even,” you frown. Not a single part of you isn’t affected by the hurt you feel. He hears the way your voice is beginning to break too, like the truth of it all is finally beginning to set in.

His hands come together as he pleads, “I promise I’ve never hurt anyone, not ever! Not everyone and everything in the Fatui is evil.”

For the first time tonight, you turn toward him and look him in the eyes. Your arms become uncrossed as you feel anger fuel your every action, every thought, every feeling. Walking toward him step by step, you hold out a finger, digging it into his chest as you speak, “You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a part of something dangerous, Lyney! I don’t care if you aren’t the one doing the killing or the hurting, you still help them. What about all those people I told you about? My friends and family who got hurt by the Fatui? Did that mean nothing to you?”

He watches as tears form in your eyes at the mention of them. Of course he remembered, how could he not? The day you confided in him about your past and all the misfortune that you were dealt by the Fatui was eternally engraved in his mind. The organization who had taken so much from you that you swore you would find a way to end it one day, even if it meant dying. You had laid everything out to him and the entire time he was on their side.

You take two more steps back from him, voice shaking as cave in on yourself, “No wonder you were so quiet that day. God, and here I was thinking you actually cared.”

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, tempted to reach a hand out to you, but not willing to scare you off. For all he knows, this could be the last time he ever sees you, “I care about you so much it hurts me. I really was horrified by the things you told me, I promise you that. Understand that I’ve only ever been talking to you as just Lyney. Your Lyney.”

It takes everything in you not to run into his arms and forget all of this is even happening. Give into his pleading words and return to who you thought was the only person who had ever really loved you. You want to pinch your arm to wake yourself up from the cruel nightmare, but somewhere deep inside, part of you has already accepted the truth and the fact that there is no universe in which you could accept his true identity. And so you take one final look at him before you take your final step, allowing the tears to fall from your eyes as you bid him a permanent farewell.

Lyney would never forget the final words you spoke to him. Four words that managed to break both your hearts more than the truth had.

“You’re not my Lyney.”

[lotomber]

Heyyy!

I am not sure if this is similar to things you've written before but I would love to read a chuuya x femreader smut yandere fic with the concept I love you so much, so much that I cant help but hurt you. (Something like Akito and Shigure s relationship from Fruits basket)

A/N- Hii I'm not sure if this is what you were looking for but I do hope you enjoy it!

Twisted love!

Pairing: Yan! Chuuya x Fem reader!

Warning: Nsfw, manipulation, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, mdni, lmk if I missed anything, not proof read!

You loved chuuya, you really do love him a lot but he was too possessive and he broke all the lines when he tried to lock you up. So you broke up and left him. It wasn't easy but you had to do it. Just like that a month went by without seeing him and it was the start of your misfortunes. You failed in your college finals but you knew you did well in your exams so that couldn't have been possible, even when you tried to talk to your professors you were just disregarded by them. You were also fired from your part time job. When you asked your friends for help they all started to ignore you. No one was even willing to listen to you, It hurted a lot, you were just left alone but you didn't even had time to cry as you struggled to find a job. As if that all wasn't enough your landlord also kicked you out of your apartment saying that the property has been sold. You were just flabbergasted cause how could he just sell the apartment without giving you a prior warning? He said that nothing could be done now he already sold it cause he needed money and that your term of lease was about to expire either way. Just like that you were on streets with no where else to go. And by no means you had money to stay at a hotel. So he was your only option left now, if possible you never wanted to go to him, You even thought about returning to your parents home but they lived very far away and you didn't wanted to worry them. You really didn't wanted to go to Chuuya but you couldn't care less about your pride now cause you were just desperate. You went to his penthouse and rang the bell, some minutes later the gingerhead opened the door and looked surprised to see you but what surprised him even more was the luggage you had by your side.

" Chuuya I....I." As if sensing your hesitation "First come in then we'll talk, you look cold." You were honestly expecting him to be angry at you but he just looked calm as you came in.

"Chuuya I...Can I stay here for a day or two? Actually my landlord kicked me out so I need a place to stay. I promise I'll leave as soon as I find another place to stay!" You were starting to get nervous as you looked pleadingly at him.

"Hey calm down! It's okay you can stay for as long as you want, I don't mind it. And if you want should I talk to your landlord?, after all how could he just kick you out!" He just looked affectionately at you just as he used to.

"It's no use I already talked to him besides he already sold the apartment."

"But are you okay?" It was just a simple question but it made your heart ache, for the past month you've been struggling still no one bothered to ask it. But Chuuya just looked worried for you even when you were the one who left him. You couldn't control it anymore and broke down in tears.

"Hey it's okay I'm here! please don't cry. If you want to talk I'm here okay? You can tell me what happened." He embraced you and gently patted your back to help you calm down. Your head was on his chest so you didn't notice the smirk he had on his face. After some time you stopped crying and then you told him everything that happened from crashing your finals till losing your job and he just listened to you, soothing you whenever you choke in tears waiting for you to finish.

"I'm really sorry such things happened to you but I'm sure it's gonna be okay and I'll help you so don't worry and please don't cry it breaks my heart to see you like this. And umm I..I don't know if I should say this right now but y'know after you left I've been reflecting on myself everyday and although it's late I still want to apologize to you." Now that you took a closer look at him there were dark bags under his eyes and he himself looked a bit stressed.

"I'm really sorry! But can you please give one more chance? Just one and I promise I won't do anything to disappoint you anymore." There was a genuine look on his face, you couldn't help but give in to him as you pulled him in a kiss. Your lips pressed against each other, as your faces flushed with desire and emotion. You would be lying if you said you didn't miss him, his lips, his touch instead you craved it. Not holding back anymore he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss, one full of passion, as if he was holding back for so long. You gasp for breath and wrap your arms around him tighter, pulling him closer for more. His hand slowly slid in your shirt groping your breast as you let out a low moan in his mouth. He quickly picked you up, unbuttoning your shirt as he took you to bedroom. He threw you on the bed gently before removing his own shirt. Oh how you missed it, his calloused but gentle hands on your body as he kisses you. He moves to your neck gently nibbling, leaving dark red love bites on your sensitive skin as he removes your bra. You couldn't help but moan as he gently kneads your tit pinching your erect nipple a bit hard as he kisses your collar bone before moving his mouth on your titty. Swirling his tongue on your nipples sucking and nibbling it. He moves downwards kissing your stomach as he proceeds lower. He removes your jeans, seeing the wet pool in your panties.

"Tch are you that desperate for me darling?" He chuckles as he removes your panties before sliding two digits in your wet cunt. " looks like you don't need much prep" He unbuckles his belt removing his trousers and boxers freeing his already hard cock. He strokes his cock a bit before aligning it on your entrance. He rubs his tip on your wet folds making you whimper.

"Mmm Chuuya please I want you!"

He slowly thrusts in you allowing you to adjust a bit before increasing his pace as your moans got louder.

"Ahh hngh~ Chuu.. ahh fast more." He increased his pace at an animalistic pace thrusting deep in your gummy walls. "Chuu mm~ I'm close...ahh please don't stop." He grunts as you clench him a bit harder cumming on his cock. His thrusts get sloppy as he also cums after you. He rubs gently on your sides to help you calm from your high before pulling out. Then he brings out towel from the closet to clean up the mess. Soon after you fell asleep in his arms, as he kissed your forehead smirking.

All because of the emotional distress you forgot the real reason you left him and if you thought that he would just let you go so easily then you were utterly wrong. You never once doubted how all these things happened only after you left him. Afterall he was the one who bribed the professors, threatened your friends to stay away from you, made you lose job and bought that apartment. He doesn't care if it hurts you or not as long as he can have you back.

"Darling if you won't let me lock you up then I'll just have to make sure you come back to me after all I love you so much."