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flowersforthosewhoneeds · 1 month ago

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" I needed a reason "

⚠ Warning : Heavy angst on this chapter.. ⚠

long chapter.

Part 4 of " I wish it was me" "

Click here, to listen to the song while reading!

bought to you, by "Getaway Car" by Taylor Swift

The knock on your door was soft yet persistent.

“[Y/N],” Wanda’s voice called gently, “Girls' night. We’re not letting you stay holed up in here.”

You groaned, tossing the blanket off of you. The remnants of last night's tears still lingered, your body exhausted, but your heart restless. Wanda wouldn’t stop until she had you out there so you dragged yourself out of bed, wiping away the last traces of the emotional storm that had swept through you.

At The Club

You were already three drinks in, trying to drown the pain, but it felt like an ocean inside you. The noise, the flashing lights, the laughter around you it was all a blur. But you couldn’t shake the image of Loki, of his icy touch, his cruel words.

"It was the best of times, the worst of crimes," the music thudded in your ears, and it was like a truth you couldn’t escape. Loki had been everything your best and worst moment.

Your gaze drifted to Wanda, who was speaking to someone on the dance floor. You could barely focus on her. Instead, your mind kept replaying the memory of Loki’s last words. "I'm not what you think I am."

“I struck a match and blew your mind," the song continued, the lyrics matching your emotions perfectly. Loki had blown your mind, had you believing he could care, believing there was something real, only for it to come crashing down.

"But I didn't mean it and you didn't see it," the line echoed in your head. You knew it. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t see you, the way you saw him. You were just a distraction, an afterthought in his cold, godly life. And it was crushing you, piece by piece.

"Let’s get you a drink," Wanda pulled you back from your spiraling thoughts, guiding you toward the bar.

You nodded numbly, your heart still tangled in Loki's shadows. The weight of your feelings felt unbearable. You couldn’t let it go. You couldn’t just forget him.

But you tried.

A random guy approached you at the bar, offering a smile that seemed a little too knowing. You didn’t care. You didn’t even look at his face. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his, searching for some kind of release, something to make you forget Loki’s name, his coldness, the ache in your chest.

The guy’s lips were warm, but it wasn’t Loki. It didn’t feel like him. You broke away, breathless, the song still pulsing in your mind.

"I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed," the lyrics swirled around you. That’s what this felt like. A curse. From the moment Loki had stepped into your life, everything had been a game, a mess of emotions and deceit.

You forced a smile and pulled away from the stranger. "Sorry," you said, feeling foolish.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to pretend that someone else could fill the empty space Loki had left in your heart.

You turned away from the bar, searching for an escape, but the weight of the world kept following you. And then, the lyrics hit, sharp and brutal:

"X marks the spot where we fell apart, He poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself."

That was it. Loki had poisoned everything, and you’d let it happen. You’d lied to yourself, believing there was something real, something that could come from his indifference, his coldness.

You could almost hear his voice in your ear again, cold as ice: "I can’t give you what you want."

"You were drivin' the getaway car We were flyin', but we'd never get far," the song played on, and you felt it deep in your bones. You were his getaway car, weren’t you? You were the one he used to escape, the one he turned to when everything else was falling apart. But you never went anywhere. The distance between you two always grew, and you were always left standing in the dust.

You felt like you were stuck, trapped in this endless loop with no way out. You knew it. "We never had a shotgun shot in the dark."

"Don’t pretend it’s such a mystery," the song continued, and your heart clenched. You knew him. You knew Loki. He wasn’t a mystery to you. But he was still a puzzle, one you’d never solve.

The Morning After

You woke up to the empty bed, the sting of yesterday’s mistakes lingering on your lips. The guy, the kiss, it had all been an attempt to erase Loki, but nothing could. He was still there, in the back of your mind, in your heart.

"It was the great escape, the prison break, The light of freedom on my face," the song played on, and you could hear the truth in it. You thought you could escape him, but it was always a lie.

The song echoed in your mind, the reminder that nothing good came from this. "No, nothing good starts in a getaway car."

The night had been full of distractions, but it had all been a lie, hadn’t it? Just like the kiss. Just like everything you’d tried to do to escape the truth.

Loki wasn’t your escape. He wasn’t a savior. He was the trap. .

The morning after the club was a blur. The kiss, the music, the lie it all felt so far away now, as you prepared for your next mission. You could still hear the song in the back of your mind, echoing through the darkest corners of your thoughts.

"I'm ridin' in a getaway car, I was cryin' in a getaway car, I was dyin' in a getaway car..."

You had tried to run, tried to forget, but it never worked. It never worked with Loki. Your feelings for him were still there, tangled and bruised, like the melody that wouldn't stop playing.

The Avengers were getting ready for a dangerous mission. Something urgent, something that could cost lives. Tony sent you in because you were capable, because you could handle it. You didn’t hesitate, though every part of you screamed to be somewhere else. Somewhere far from Loki. Somewhere that wasn’t this.

The mission was a high-stakes operation, and you were deep in enemy territory. The tension was thick, the silence deafening. You navigated the area, making your way toward the objective, but something went wrong.

A trap. A burst of magic. The air crackled around you, and before you could react, the blast hit you.

The pain was immediate, sharp, like every nerve in your body was on fire. You stumbled, falling to your knees, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood poured from a wound on your side, soaking your clothes, and you couldn’t stop it.

"It was the great escape, the prison break, The light of freedom on my face."

But you weren’t escaping anymore. You were dying the taste of metal in your mouth, your body weakening with every passing second.

You didn’t call for help. You couldn’t. Not when Loki might be there. Not when you were so fragile, so mortal. You couldn't bear to let him see you like this. The idea of him seeing you bleed out of seeing you so weak was too much.

You fought to stay conscious, even as your vision blurred. You tried to call for help, but you couldn't get a word out.

“Friday, send the signal,” you managed to choke out. “Alert the Avengers... just in case.”

It was then that you realized how much you wanted Loki, even if he never wanted you back. But you pushed it down, swallowed the ache, because in that moment, you couldn’t be weak.

Back at the Tower

Tony was working at the desk, surrounded by screens when he noticed the signal loss. His eyes narrowed.

“Friday, what’s going on with [Y/N]?” Tony asked, his voice sharp with concern.

Friday’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Signal lost, Sir. No communication coming from [Y/N]. The last known coordinates suggest a significant injury.”

“Damn it,” Tony muttered, tapping a few keys. “Pull up the last footage.”

Back to You

You were bleeding out, the edges of your vision going black. You couldn’t see straight anymore, your breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. Your body felt heavy, every movement like it took everything you had left.

But you knew you needed to leave a message. Even if you couldn’t make it through, you had to let them know you were still fighting. Still breathing.

You pulled out your comms device, and with trembling hands, you started a final message.

"I'm in a getaway car," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I left you in a motel bar... Put the money in a bag and I stole the keys... That was the last time you ever saw me..."

Tears began to fall again, your breath hitching as you cried, your body betraying you in the worst way possible. This was it. The end of the road.

"It was the great escape, the prison break..."

You started to sing softly, your voice breaking as you clung to the last shred of who you were. You couldn’t think about Loki, couldn’t think about anything other than trying to stay alive, trying to make sure they didn’t think you were gone.

But you knew, in that moment, that you were losing the battle.

The song played on in your mind, each word hitting harder than the last, echoing like a funeral dirge in your ears.

"I’m ridin' in a getaway car, I was cryin' in a getaway car, I was dyin' in a getaway car…"

You coughed, the blood rising in your throat, and the next thing you knew, your vision went black.

Back at the Tower

Tony's voice was frantic. “Friday, get me the footage. Now.”

Friday's mechanical voice responded, “Downloading now, sir.”

The last footage flickered onto the screen, showing you, broken and bruised, the blood staining your clothes. You were still alive when the camera captured your last words.

"Mission accomplished, sir. Goodbye."

The image froze, and then everything went silent. Tony’s face was hard, his eyes unreadable, but you could see the raw edge of panic in the way his hand hovered over the controls.

“Damn it, [Y/N],” Tony cursed under his breath. “We’re not losing you.”

At that moment, Loki appeared, his green cloak swirling behind him. He had been nearby, sensing the disturbance, and as soon as he saw the footage of you, his heart clenched.

“I’m going after her,” he said, his voice dark with determination. His face, normally cold and calculating, showed a rare flicker of something else something raw. Something desperate.

“We’ll go with you,” Thor said, stepping forward. “You’re not alone in this.”

But Loki didn’t wait. He knew what he had to do.

Back to You

You were lying there, cold and alone, your blood pooling around you, your last thoughts on Loki. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe everything was always a mistake.

Suddenly, you heard it. A voice, distant but familiar, calling your name. The sound of footsteps. Loki was coming for you. He was coming to find you.

But was it too late?

You didn’t know.

maybe..

@summ3rgl0w @mischeveousscamp @rancesababyd0ll @angelkat1013 @tinytroublemaker @bitchy-bi-trash

#loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki odinson #marvel loki #loki x y/n #love #loki laufeyson #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader #fem reader #emotions #im hurtin #IM SORRY FOR WHOS READING THIS<3 #long post

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mediocre-shark-tales · 27 days ago

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My Chosen Family is My Forever Family

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Yes this has two titles, I couldn't pick one cause both are perfect. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter as I thought it was time for a break from most of the extremely heavy angst style writing and topics. Story Y/n needs a break too right? So enjoy this extra sweet fluffy chapter! (Also I know I said in the update that none of the romance will be described to be a specific driver - but some driver interactions may seem romantic within specific chapters - if its not the driver you want y/n to fall for then pretend the interaction is in a more platonic light than potentially romantic one)

I had fully expected the first week of my mandatory break to be soul-crushingly boring. And not just the kind of “bored scrolling on your phone in bed” boring—no, this was a special kind of frustration. The kind that claws at your skin and makes your chest ache because you know there’s work to be done, training to be completed, sim sessions to suffer through, and races to be run… but you’re stuck. Grounded. Benched.

The doctors told me I’d only miss one race this season, which—on paper—should have brought me some peace. But it didn’t. Because every second I wasn’t behind a wheel felt like I was being peeled away from everything I loved. I couldn’t even enjoy the distractions I normally turned to in moments like this. Reading was hard with my dominant arm injured, playing any of my instruments or sim work was out of the question, and even cooking—something I did just to feel normal—was off the table unless I wanted to risk re-tearing the stitches, popping my shoulder back out before the tendons have healed back over it, or even just put too much stress on the forearm fracture.

I hated it.

I hated relying on others. I hated how slow everything suddenly felt, like the world had pressed pause for me and only me, while everyone else got to keep going. I hated the silence of my apartment. The empty hours. The ache that wasn't just physical but emotional—rooted in the idea that I wasn't useful, wasn’t doing anything. That somehow, this forced pause was proof I wasn’t strong enough to keep up.

And so, when I sent a simple message to the group chat I had with the boys—just something like “If anyone’s around this week, I could use a hand, I guess…”—I didn’t expect anything to really come from it. I’d barely hit send before the notifications started flooding in.

Within an hour, they’d sent me a color-coded schedule. One of them would be with me every day—just to hang out, help when needed, or keep me company. And if by some miracle none of them were available, Nico, my ever-patient manager, would step in for the day.

At first, I dreaded it. I assumed they’d hover, fuss, and treat me like I was made of glass. I thought being babied would make everything feel worse—like I was confirming all the fears that I’d become too fragile to be the version of myself I’d worked so hard to be.

But they surprised me.

They didn’t force help on me. They didn’t smother me in pity. Instead, they came over like it was just another afternoon, acting like nothing had changed unless I asked them to. And somehow, that was what I needed more than anything. It didn’t feel like they were coming to take care of me—it felt like they just wanted to be with me.

And in those moments, I didn’t feel broken anymore.

Each of them brought something different to the table—something comforting, something uniquely them. Little acts of care that didn’t feel overwhelming or patronizing, but thoughtful, effortless, and real.

I didn’t expect to enjoy any of it. But I did.

And now, thinking back on each day of this first week, I can’t help but smile. Because each of the boys gave me a piece of myself back without even realizing it.

Charles was the first one, naturally. He had insisted, texting the group chat three times the night before to make sure no one else would try to swap with him. “I’m going first. Non-negotiable.” It made me laugh more than I had in days, and honestly, knowing it would be him kind of made everything feel… easier. Charles had a calm about him—gentle, warm, grounding. Like a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding until you let it out.

He showed up right on time, two coffees in hand and a paper bag from my favorite bakery tucked under one arm. “For the champion in recovery,” he said with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss the top of my head before I could even mutter a sarcastic thank you.

From the start, the day felt weirdly domestic in a way that both comforted and unnerved me. Charles moved through my apartment like he’d lived here his whole life—kicking off his shoes by the door, putting the pastries on a plate instead of leaving them in the bag, and checking in on me constantly with soft touches and even softer words.

“Need anything? A pillow? Blanket? Another croissant?”

At some point, I was seated on the couch, cradling the warm mug between my legs while he shuffled through my bathroom cabinet in search of my brush.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I called, already dreading the answer.

“I know,” he answered simply. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

I heard him walking back before I saw him—his footsteps light but purposeful. When he rounded the corner, brush in hand and a scrunchie looped around his fingers, I gave him my best unimpressed glare.

“You’ve planned this.”

“I might have practiced,” he admitted, crouching beside the couch with a playful grin. “Carlos has long hair too, you know.”

“You practiced brushing Carlos’ hair?”

He winked. “That’s not important.”

I rolled my eyes but turned around, letting him settle onto the couch behind me. My injured arm stayed close to my chest, and I winced slightly trying to shift, but Charles noticed instantly. His hand came to my good shoulder with a tenderness that stole the air from my lungs.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice low and smooth. “I’ve got you.”

And he did.

His fingers threaded into my hair, separating gentle sections before beginning to brush. His touch was delicate, each stroke deliberate and slow, like he was afraid of hurting me or pulling too hard. The brush moved through the tangles patiently, occasionally catching on a stubborn knot, but Charles never tugged. Instead, he used his fingers to work them out, fingertips grazing my scalp just enough to make my eyes flutter shut.

“Feels nice, hmm?” he teased quietly, clearly noticing how still I had gone, how I was just breathing and existing beneath his touch.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because it felt too nice. Too comforting. Too intimate.

And then he laughed—soft and warm, the kind of laugh that made you want to curl up inside it.

“You’re going to fall asleep,” he said. “Then I’ll have to carry you to bed, and you know I’ll complain the whole time about my back.” I turned just enough to shoot him a crooked smirk. “You act like I don’t know you’d gladly carry me anywhere.”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. The air between us settled—quiet, safe.

He finished brushing with a final little tug and then gently pulled my hair back into a low ponytail, securing it with the scrunchie. His fingers lingered just a second too long against the back of my neck, and I swear I felt the warmth of his breath before he leaned back. “There,” he said softly. “Perfect.”

Later, while I was napping with my legs stretched across his lap and his hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on my shin, I realized something.

He never once treated me like I was broken. Not even for a second. He just made sure I didn’t have to do it all alone. And that meant more than I could ever put into words.

The second morning of recovery started a little differently.

I didn’t wake up to pain, or to the dull frustration of being limited by my injuries. No. I woke up to the faint clatter of pans and the unmistakable scent of something warm and buttery drifting in from the kitchen. My brow furrowed as I blinked awake, arm still tucked securely in its sling, a blanket half-hanging off the bed. It took me a few seconds to remember that no—I hadn’t left the stove on. I hadn’t even cooked in days. I mean, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

Oscar.

Of course.

I should’ve expected it. He had the spare key from a couple months ago when I struggled with my panic attacks the most and he’d insisted on “emergency access” in case. Plus, the boys had agreed on him hanging out with me today.

I pushed myself up slowly, groaning at the dull ache in my side. My ribs still hated me for breathing too hard, and my forearm protested every time I shifted. I considered calling out to him, but the sounds in the kitchen only got louder—along with what I assumed was him humming softly to himself.

Padding out of the bedroom with one socked foot and the other dragging a blanket behind me, I turned the corner to find Oscar in the middle of what I could only describe as controlled chaos.

The counters were littered with ingredients—half-used eggshells in a bowl, pancake mix in a measuring cup, a bottle of orange juice open and half-poured into a glass, and Oscar standing in the center of it all, wearing one of my aprons like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He hadn’t heard me yet. I watched him lean down to check the skillet, spatula in hand, eyes narrowed in pure concentration. He flipped a pancake with the kind of careful deliberation usually reserved for high-speed turns on a track.

And the best part?

Nothing was burnt.

Yet.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed—a soft, surprised burst of sound that startled him just enough to make him jump and spin toward me.

“You’re not supposed to be up yet!” he exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up. “I was going to surprise you.”

“You did,” I smirked, leaning against the doorway. “Surprised you haven’t set off the fire alarm.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, cheeks dusted a light pink as he returned to the stove. “You’re hilarious. I’m actually doing fine, thank you very much.”

“You’re doing great,” I teased, eyes twinkling. “Even if it looks like a tornado hit my kitchen.”

He gestured dramatically with the spatula. “A small price to pay for gourmet breakfast.”

I walked over slowly, settling into one of the barstools with a wince as I adjusted my arm. Oscar glanced over immediately, eyes scanning me like he could somehow absorb the pain for me if he just stared long enough.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Don’t even think about helping. You just sit there and look pretty, alright?”

I blinked.

The words were said with a teasing lilt, but his eyes held something quieter. Something real. Something sincere and steady.

“I mean it,” he added, softer now, pouring the last of the batter into the pan. “Let me take care of you today.”

I didn’t argue.

Because the truth was, Oscar was one of those people who didn’t need to be loud to make you feel safe. He didn’t hover. He didn’t pity. He just existed beside you, making space for you to breathe without asking anything in return.

Once the pancakes were done, he plated them carefully—fruit on the side, syrup in a little ramekin like he’d seen me do once. Then he brought the plate over like it was a five-star meal, setting it down in front of me with a proud grin.

“You made this?” I asked, trying not to look too impressed.

“Every last slightly-lopsided pancake,” he replied.

I took a bite. It was fluffy, warm, and surprisingly good. My eyes flicked up to his and I nodded once. “Not bad, Piastri.”

“I’ll take that as a Michelin star.”

Later, after we’d eaten and he’d forced me onto the couch with a blanket and another coffee, I caught him washing dishes without being asked, sleeves rolled up, humming again under his breath. Oscar made even the dull ache of healing feel a little bit sweeter.

On the third day, Max arrived like a storm disguised as calm.

No dramatic entrance. No teasing comments or sarcastic remarks like I half-expected. Just a knock on the door, a quiet “It’s me,” and then the gentle thud of his backpack hitting the floor as he stepped inside like he’d done it a thousand times before.

I hadn’t realized how much my body had begun to ache from sitting awkwardly all morning until Max gently guided me back to the couch, fixed the pillows behind me, and placed a blanket over my lap—tucking it in with a care that didn’t match the usual intense persona he carried on race weekends.

“What?” I asked, arching a brow as he stood above me with crossed arms, eyes scanning me like he was memorizing a damage report.

He shrugged. “You look tired. And grumpy. That’s my job, not yours.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” He didn’t look convinced. “Have you taken your meds yet?”

I blinked.

Shit.

He sighed, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen once before showing it to me. “I set alarms. You’re officially on the Max Verstappen Recovery Program.”

“You’re kidding,” I said, eyes widening slightly.

“Nope.” His voice was steady, almost playful, but there was something under it. Something fierce and unwavering. He reached into the side pocket of his bag and pulled out the familiar orange bottle, the one I always seemed to forget in my frustration with being… well, this version of me.

The version that needed help just to function.

“I was gonna take them—”

“Sure you were,” Max said, cutting me off with the smallest quirk of a smile.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he stepped closer, expression softening as he crouched in front of me. His fingers reached up, slow and careful, and tilted my chin gently so I had no choice but to look at him.

His blue eyes—always sharp, always focused—held something different now. Something quiet. Protective. Real.

“No excuses,” he murmured. “You don’t take care of yourself, I’ll do it for you.”

The pill bottle was pressed into my hand, and for a second, I just sat there, stunned into stillness by the tenderness in his voice.

This was Max. Max who never sugar coated. Max who rarely let emotion crack through the armor of being a two-time world champion. And yet here he was, setting alarms to make sure I didn’t forget my meds. Holding my gaze like the sky might fall if I didn’t take care of myself. Acting like my well-being was the only thing that mattered in the world right now.

I swallowed the pills without another word.

“Good girl,” he said softly, before standing and ruffling my hair in the most annoyingly affectionate way possible.

“You’re lucky I can’t punch you right now,” I muttered.

“You’re lucky I know that.”

Later, he sat beside me, our legs tucked under the same blanket as we watched mindless TV. He kept half his focus on the screen and the other half on me, occasionally checking the time or asking if I needed anything. Not hovering—but always there.

Not once did he make me feel like a burden.

Just someone worth showing up for.

And in the safety of that simple, quiet evening, I let myself lean just a little into him—into the warmth, the presence, and the overwhelming peace of being taken care of by someone who rarely let the world see how much he actually cared.

—

The knock on the door came earlier than expected, just as I was halfway through the frustrating, one-handed battle of pulling on my hoodie. The pain in my shoulder had flared up again, throbbing in time with my heartbeat, but I wasn’t about to call for help—not yet. I was stubborn, if nothing else.

“Don’t rush,” Franco’s voice called from the other side of the door, light and teasing. “I come in peace. And with croissants.”

I smiled despite myself.

By the time I shuffled to the door and opened it, he stood there grinning, one brow raised and a paper bag balanced in one hand. His hair was a little windswept, sunglasses still on, as if he’d sprinted over without a second thought.

“Morning,” he greeted, stepping in. “I hear we have a mission today.”

I sighed and tilted my head. “Please don’t tell me Nico sent you with a checklist.”

“Something like that,” he chuckled, setting the croissants on the counter and pulling off his sunglasses. “He wants people to see you. Remind the world that ‘Ghost’ is still very much alive and kicking.”

“Barely kicking,” I muttered, glancing down at my wrapped arm.

Franco didn’t miss a beat. “Barely is still enough.”

He was already moving toward the hallway, grabbing the gear bag I hadn’t even asked him to bring and pulling out my helmet. He held it like it was something sacred, brushing his fingers along the top before turning toward me.

“C’mere,” he said softly. “Let me help.”

I hesitated, but he gave me that warm, patient look—the one that always made me feel safe, even when everything else was chaos. So I stepped forward, and he carefully guided the helmet on, making sure nothing tugged too hard against my injury. His fingers brushed my skin as he adjusted the padding, gentle and deliberate, and I caught the way his eyes softened when he saw me wince.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Just hate feeling like this.”

His hand paused against the side of my jaw, thumb grazing lightly before he pulled back. “You’re allowed to hate it. Just don’t let it convince you that you’re weak.”

Once I was dressed—slowly, awkwardly, with Franco helping me get the shoulder support back on without making a production of it—we headed out to the team headquarters. Just like Nico wanted, everyone got a chance to see that “Ghost” was up, alive, and recovering. Franco stayed by my side the entire time, making it seem natural, like he was just there because he wanted to be. Though I am sure he did want to be with me, just not here where I could easily mess something up in my healing.

He didn’t treat me like a porcelain doll. He let me lean on him if I needed to, but never hovered or made me feel helpless. Just present. Grounding.

After enough smiling and pretending to be perfectly fine for the cameras and the team, we ducked out early. “You’ve earned the rest of the day off,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder as we got into his car. “What’s next? Grocery run?”

“God, yes. If I eat another instant noodle cup I might scream.”

We wandered the aisles like two university students who barely knew how to shop for real food. He made fun of my oddly specific snack preferences, and I teased him for the fact that he apparently can’t function without a very particular kind of olive oil.

When we got home, we cooked together—well, I supervised while Franco did most of the cooking, reading the instructions with exaggerated concentration. He looked so serious trying to make the sauce just right, even though it was something so simple. I sat at the counter, legs swinging slightly, letting the domesticity of it all sink in.

The soft sound of the simmering pan, Franco humming under his breath, the occasional “Try this and tell me if it’s too salty”—it was the kind of quiet intimacy I didn’t realize I’d been craving. It wasn’t about being cared for, it was just… being with someone who wanted to care.

By the time dinner was done, my arm was aching again and I was half-asleep at the table. Franco cleaned up without asking, humming that same soft tune he’d had going all day.

Before leaving, he leaned down and gently bumped his forehead against mine. “Tomorrow’s Lando's shift, but text me if you need anything. Or if you just want more pasta.”

I didn’t say anything until after the door clicked shut and the apartment returned to stillness.

Then I whispered it to the empty space he left behind: “Thank you.”

And I meant it more than he would ever know.

I had barely rolled out of bed when my phone buzzed. A FaceTime call from Lando. Not a text. Not a “hey, you up?” warning. Just a full-blown, front-camera assault first thing in the morning. I sighed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and accepted the call.

Lando’s face filled the screen instantly—grinning, eyes bright, clearly way too awake for how early it was. “Good morning, sunshine!”

“You are way too chipper for this hour,” I groaned, flopping back into the pillows.

“I’ve got a surprise,” he said, practically bouncing in place. “Nico gave the okay. I got you cleared for something fun today.”

I blinked. “Cleared for what?”

“Quadrant. Video shoot. You and me. Karting track. But—” he raised a finger, “—don’t freak out. You’re not racing. You’re coaching. Like a proper boss. You get to wear your helmet and everything. Total mystery. Maximum ‘Ghost’ vibes.”

My heart fluttered at the thought. It wasn’t racing, not exactly. But it was a toe back in the world I loved. A toe that wouldn’t risk undoing the progress I’d made. A smile crept onto my face despite the dull ache in my shoulder.

“I’m in,” I whispered.

“I knew you’d say yes!” Lando grinned like he’d just won a bet with himself. “Be ready in an hour. I’m picking you up.”

Exactly sixty-two minutes later, Lando was in my apartment—letting himself in with the spare key Oscar had reluctantly given him, armed with a large quadrant hoodie and one of my helmets already polished and tucked under his arm.

“You’re a menace,” I told him as he helped me pull on the hoodie. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m your menace today,” he shot back, grinning as he gently fixed the collar so it wouldn’t irritate the sling. Then, softer, more sincere: “You look badass. Even with one arm fully out of commission and the other only half as bad.”

He helped me with the helmet, adjusting the straps like he’d done it a hundred times. His fingers were careful, brushing under my jaw as he worked.

“There,” he said when he was done, stepping back to admire his work. “Ghost is back.”

The shoot was at a private karting track, nothing too intense, but buzzing with energy. Lando had already worked it out with the Quadrant team: he and I would each coach one half of the group for the day. It wasn’t about speed or competition—it was about chaos, laughter, and low-stakes fun. And somehow, even though I wasn’t driving, it felt like coming home.

Lando stuck close to me but never hovered. He made it look natural, like we were just teammates riffing off each other—his chaotic jokes balancing my deadpan commentary. He made sure I had a stool to sit on whenever I needed, slipped water bottles into my hand without saying a word, and every once in a while, he’d shoot me a look across the track—a grin that asked you okay? without needing the words.

And every time, I’d nod. Because I was.

One of my favorite moments was when a member of his team spun out dramatically and Lando nearly lost his mind laughing. I leaned into his shoulder, laughing just as hard, and he slung his arm around me without hesitation. It was instinctual. Natural. Like it had always been this way.

By the end of the shoot, we were both exhausted but glowing. He helped me out of my helmet and immediately fluffed my hair like a brat.

“You were incredible today,” he said softly, his voice almost lost beneath the fading roar of the track. “You know that, right?”

I nodded, cheeks warm. “It felt good. To just... be seen again. Even if no one really saw me.”

“But I did,” he said, eyes soft. “And you were you. All day.”

We rode home with the windows down, wind tangling our hair, laughter still lingering in the car like an afterglow.

That night, as I lay in bed with the ache in my shoulder reminding me I still had a ways to go, I smiled. Because today, I wasn’t just recovering. I was living. And Lando made sure I didn’t forget what that felt like.

—

When the knock came at the door, I knew it was Ollie before I even peeked through the peephole. There was something about his timing, always perfect without trying. He knew when to give space, and when to break the silence.

I opened the door and he immediately grinned, holding up a bag of pastries like some sort of peace offering.

“I bring sugar and distraction,” he said.

I chuckled and stepped aside to let him in. “That’s my favorite combo.”

He kicked off his shoes at the door and wandered inside like he’d done it a hundred times—which, honestly, he had. My apartment didn’t look like much now that I was practically living on the couch full-time, but it was still my space. My comfort zone. And today, it felt better with him in it.

“I figured we could start looking at places,” he said, setting the pastries on the coffee table and flopping down onto the rug like it was his natural habitat. “Kimi already sent me a voice memo from a mountain he hiked up at 6 a.m. to tell us how much he wants to freeze to death next week.”

“Oh god,” I groaned, easing onto the couch with a soft wince. “If he tries to make me hike, I swear I’ll fake a rib puncture.”

Ollie snorted. “I’m already making the executive decision to veto snow.”

He leaned back on one arm, looking up at me with that lopsided smirk of his, and for a moment, I forgot about the weight in my chest. About the way healing felt more like surviving these days. About how this break was supposed to be a rest, but mostly felt like punishment.

But then we passed the hallway later on our way to grab my laptop, and it all came crashing back. He stopped. I didn’t have to look to know why.

The display shelf by the hallway had always been a quiet little timeline of my career—my first F4 helmet, the one I won my first karting championship in, and a couple others from standout races. But now… now there was another.

My most recent one.

The one from the crash.

Still blackened at the edges. Still scarred by fire and dirt and desperation. I hadn’t touched it since it was returned to me. I didn’t know why I left it there—maybe to remind myself I survived. Maybe because I hadn’t figured out how to hide it.

Ollie stood frozen, staring at it like it had personally insulted him.

I turned to say something, anything to break the tension, but then he spoke—and it hit like a punch to the ribs.

“You kept it like that?” His voice was quiet. Unsteady.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I... I guess I couldn’t bring myself to clean it. It feels like—like proof that I got out, you know? That I made it.”

He didn’t look at me. “I thought you didn’t.” My breath caught.

His hands were balled into fists again, just like they had been in the medical room.

“You were moving,” he said, voice raw. “I saw you crawling out. I kept telling myself, she’s out, she’s out—she’s gonna be okay. And then it exploded again. I only saw it in my mirrors. Just... flames. You disappeared. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t go back. I didn’t know if you were—”

His voice cracked. I stepped forward, gently placing my good hand on his arm. “Ollie.”

“I couldn’t do anything,” he whispered. “I just kept driving and praying they’d pull you out in time.”

“You don’t have to carry that,” I murmured. “You didn’t leave me. You were racing. You didn’t abandon me.”

He finally turned to look at me, and there it was again—that same look from the hospital. Like part of him still hadn’t let go of the moment he thought I was gone. “I’m here,” I said softly. “I made it. And you’re here, too.”

He didn’t say anything, just let me pull him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me carefully, holding tight but not too tight, like he didn’t want to cause more damage.

We stood there for a long moment, the silence more healing than any words could’ve been.

When we pulled apart, his eyes were a little glassy, but his voice had steadied. “Okay. No more crash talk for today. We’ve got a vacation to plan.”

“Finally,” I said with a smile, wiping at my cheek. “Something that doesn’t involve ice packs or medical tape.”

Back in the living room, I curled up on the couch with a blanket, and Ollie sat on the floor beside me, laptop open between us. He pulled up a tab with about ten bookmarks already waiting.

“I did some scouting. Don’t worry, I filtered out anything colder than 10 degrees.”

I laughed. “You’re a saint.”

“Obviously,” he said with a grin. “First up: this little seaside villa in Cinque Terre. Gorgeous view, private terrace, walking distance to gelato.”

“Sold.”

“Wait, wait—next one’s even better,” he said, scrolling to a cozy mountain cabin in Switzerland. “Fireplace. Hot tub. Comes with a dog named Muffin, apparently.”

I gasped. “Muffin??”

He grinned. “Now you’re invested.”

We kept flipping through options, laughing and bickering like we weren’t two people who’d almost lost each other. At some point, we ended up side by side on the couch, sharing a pastry and debating which place had the better vibe for “healing, but make it cute.”

By the end of it, we had a list narrowed down and a tentative plan to leave in three days with Kimi.

And for the first time since the crash, I felt something like normal again. Not just alive—but living.

—

I didn’t realize how nice it would be to have Kimi around until he showed up with an armful of empty duffel bags and a determined look in his eyes.

“No offense,” he said, stepping inside and immediately kicking the door shut with his heel, “but your packing system is a crime. This time, we’re doing it properly.”

I blinked at him, leaning against the doorway of my bedroom in an oversized hoodie and a sling. “Hi to you, too.”

“Hi,” he replied, grinning in that boyish way that made it hard to stay annoyed. “Now sit down and point at things. I’ll do the rest.”

And he did.

Without hesitation, Kimi opened drawers, folded clothes, sorted toiletries, and somehow managed to get all my essentials into a suitcase in a way that looked almost... aesthetic? I couldn’t decide if he was just naturally organized or if he’d learned how to be useful from traveling nonstop with F2. Either way, he didn’t need to be asked. He just did things. Quiet, capable, and oddly comforting.

“You’re scarily efficient,” I said as he zipped up the second bag.

He shrugged. “You need comfy clothes, beach things, and at least one outfit in case we go somewhere nice. Everything else is overthinking.”

“I am overthinking,” I muttered.

“I know,” he said, eyes flicking to mine, teasing. “You always do.”

That made me roll my eyes and throw a sock at his head. He caught it without looking, like some kind of casual ninja, and smirked. “Is that your way of saying thank you?”

“Sure. Also, you’re lucky I can’t throw properly right now.”

“I’m lucky either way,” he said quietly, almost too casually—but the way he said it made me freeze for half a second. I opened my mouth, ready with a sarcastic reply, but he was already standing, stretching his arms behind his head like nothing had happened.

“Alright,” he said. “We need food before I start unpacking things out of boredom.”

We ended up ordering our usual takeout from the Chinese place two blocks down. Kimi set up camp on the couch while I shuffled over with the food, and even though I knew I looked like a gremlin in sweatpants and messy hair, he didn’t blink. Just scooted over, fluffed the pillow next to him, and patted it.

“C’mon, your side of the couch looks lonely.”

I plopped down and groaned dramatically as I got comfortable, which earned me a quiet laugh from him.

“You’re so needy,” I joked.

“You love it,” he shot back, unbothered. Then he handed me my drink without even looking. Like he knew exactly which one was mine.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, trading bites and throwing in the occasional “this is so good” or “okay that chili sauce is illegal.” After eating, Kimi picked up the controllers and waved mine in front of my face.

“I updated your save file. You’re welcome.”

“You what?”

“You were stuck on that one level. I fixed it.”

“Are you trying to one-up Oscar’s breakfast day?” I asked.

“No,” he said, eyes bright with amusement. “I’m trying to make sure you never get rid of me.”

Again, the words landed softer than they should have, sitting somewhere in the back of my mind like a puzzle piece I hadn’t quite figured out.

The night went on like that—lazy and warm and full of inside jokes. We played a few rounds of our favorite co-op game, him carrying us through the boss fights and me screaming every time we nearly died. When the controller finally dropped out of my hand and I leaned my head against the couch in defeat, he just chuckled and tugged a blanket over both of us.

“Movie time,” he said, already scrolling through the streaming options. “You get first pick. But choose wisely, because I will complain the entire time if it sucks.”

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me heal, not raising my blood pressure.”

“Stress builds character,” he deadpanned.

I laughed, sinking deeper into the couch. We eventually settled on an old comfort film, and somewhere between the opening credits and the halfway point, I felt my eyelids growing heavy. Kimi didn’t say anything when I rested my head lightly against his shoulder. He just shifted slightly so I could fit better and kept watching, one arm resting casually along the back of the couch.

He smelled like clean laundry and citrus shampoo and something that was just Kimi—familiar, steady, safe.

As I started drifting off, I heard him say something under his breath.

“Might be my favorite day of break so far.”

I didn’t say anything.

But I smiled.

Masterlist

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world @dozyisdead @mizzy-pop @lost4lyrics @anunstablefangirl @nikfigueiredo @reiluvr @mymmyrym

#x reader #driver!reader #f1 #f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 imagine #f1 driver!reader #fluff #romance #romantic #love story #pick your poison #choose your own story

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tinylilacbun · 3 months ago

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j o i n h i s w o r l d ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆

warnings: usual squid game angst, blood, death, slight ooc thanos?

What on earth did you sign up for. At first, when the salesman approached you, telling you there's a way of how you can pay off your debt simply by playing some games.

Of course you said yes, who wouldn't? You thought you had a certain headstart, given the fact you're a regressor and love playing many different games.

So, you obviously didn't expect that you would be playing for your literal life, people getting shot left and right and you're only alive thanks to Player 456 giving orders and taking the lead.

When you got back to the dormitory nothing felt real, as if this all was just a fever dream, some kind of sick joke you just don't understand.

And when you thought the universe was giving you mercy by letting the remaining players vote if they want to stay and continue the games in hope of more money or if you want to leave and receive the money that's already collected, it gets immediately crushed when the majority of the people want to stay.

The 'X' batch on the right side of your chest feels heavy, a mocking reminder that even if you wanted to go home you are still stuck in here, trying to cope with everything that happened since you woke up.

To try and distract yourself you take out the two bows from your hair, frowning at the speckles of blood that's staining the white fabric, and continue braiding two small braids, trying to ignore the fear that's creeping up and your mind screaming at you to regress.

After tying the bows to the end of your braids you pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you force yourself not to cry.

You couldn't even bring yourself to eat much, only poking around and eating a few bites, closing the little container and hiding it under your pillow together with your water bottle should your appetite return.

You jump at the sound of metal clanging against each other, lifting your gaze to a purple haired guy standing beside your bunk bed, his hands gripping the frame above you, a smirk on his face.

"Hello there, neighbor." He drawls, not noticing the unease you're feeling right now but he does see the confusion on your beautiful face. "We're bed neighbors, see?"

He points to the empty bed right next to yours before crouching down and tilting his head at you. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Thanos. Your hopefully soon teammate if you're interested." He says, reaching out to toy with the little bow in your hair and you flinch lightly at the unexpected touch, moving your knees and revealing the 'X' batch.

He pouts at that. "Already want to go home? We barely even started, sweet cheeks."

"I'm scared..." You finally managed to whisper out, which is actually a stupid move, you shouldn't admit something like that and make yourself look weak because that's something that could kill you even faster. "I-I don't wanna die here..."

"Then you should join Thanos world." He straightens himself, pressing his hands to his chest before doing a spin and pointing a nail polished finger at you. "Because Thanos can protect you."

You bite your lip, hesitating to accept his offer, and even through his drug haze he notices that, moving in a swift motion to sit right in front of you with his face close to yours. "Just think about it. You know where to find me."

He taps your nose, scrunching up his own before retreating to his own bunk bed, plopping down with his hands resting behind his head.

You can feel your face heat up suddenly, some butterflies flipping in your stomach as you glance at him, quickly laying down on your side so your back is facing him after he winks at you.

#little!reader #daddy!thanos drabble

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caesariawritesstuff · 3 months ago

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Hii.... i would love a💌 love letter from Edward Nigma make him address me as my dear and or my dearest, despite the fact i believe that i am dumb and kinda unworthy of life... can you make him say that he loves me and that he loves my figure despite the lack of exercise....(sorry for the lowkey trauma dump also love your work😘 hope you have a wonderful day)

Worthy

Summary: A love letter for anonymous from Edward Nigma.

Word Count: 650

A/N: Ahh anon, I really hope you enjoy this love letter! Thank you so much for your kind words, too!

My dearest,

Gotham is still tonight. I have been pouring over my plans for Batman for the last several hours, but I find I cannot stop these distracting thoughts from bleeding into my genius mind. Everything you said from our last conversation has burrowed its way into my brilliance, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to stop thinking of what you said – about your worry over your own intelligence, your figure, and how you feel unworthy.

I know, I know, I can hear your protests already. I can hear the self-doubt in your voice as it tickles at the back of your mind, begging you to argue with me. With me! But my dear, I know you worry that you are unworthy, insignificant, lesser. But to that I say: how foolish. I cannot sit here and let you agonize over such trivial things. It is utterly absurd for you to think so lowly of yourself – to think you are not worthy.

Because, my dear, you are so entirely worthy beyond belief. I cannot believe you would insult something that I cherish so deeply. That you would question my judgement, my brilliance, by suggesting that you are anything but remarkable? You have ensnared my thoughts, and I think of you at all hours of the day. No matter how hard I try to focus on my plots and ploys and schemes, you have become the center of my universe, the light in the black hole that is my life. I do not find myself wanting to solve you, to dissect you like everyone else. With you, I want to trace each piece of your soul, each edge, to memorize every imperfectly perfect detail.

And you know why, my dear? It is because I love you.

I love you. I must say it again, and I will continue to say it over and over, until your self-doubtful words drown into nothing but silence. Whatever flaws you see, I only see perfection. I do not see failure or weakness, I see beauty. I see someone who has faced the weight of the world and still remains standing tall. I see someone who is so totally worthy of everything life has to offer, no matter how you think may you think you are unworthy of it all.

And your figure? Don’t make me laugh. What society dictates as “worthy” is subjective, a silly made-up notion. I am not fooled by such arbitrary standards and conformity that the world believes is somehow more beautiful than anything else. Your body is your own, it belongs to you, and that makes it just as exquisite and beautiful as any other. Your body holds memories of all you have been through, and it is the same body that has led you to me. I would never dream to wish for anything else.

You see, my love, you are perfect just the way you are. I know it will be difficult for you to see yourself as I do: beautiful, worthy, intelligent. Capable of taking on this world and all it has to offer. I cannot force you to love yourself, but I can show you, dedicate my life, to telling you why every day you are deserving of love and worthy of goodness in this dark world.

You are worthy of love. You are worthy of greatness. You are worthy of me.

Do not waste your breath trying to argue with me. You know I am right. You cannot outthink me, and I will not allow you to diminish your bright, lovely soul. You are mine, and that is the only thing that matters.

So, tell me: I’m a four-letter word with the power to heal. I make people stronger, and they say I’m real. What am I?

Love, my dear. It is love.

And above all else, I love you.

Always yours,

Edward

#caesariawrites #the riddler #edward nigma #arkhamverse riddler #edward nygma #arkham riddler #arkhamverse edward nigma

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lynzishell · 7 months ago

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The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m at my desk trying to focus on writing code for our game, but it’s slow going. Distracted by my own thoughts, I find myself staring out the window in front of me more often than not while my fingers rest on the keyboard. Ash sits patient and unbothered on my bed, playing on my Switch while he waits for me to finish.

We’re quieter today than usual, both of us tired and mildly hungover from the night before, but still determined to make some progress today.

I try my best to clear my mind, to focus on the screen in front of me and listen to the music coming from my Lin-Z speaker, quietly singing along and bouncing my leg anxiously to the beat. Every once in a while, Ash chimes in, singing a line or two along with me, and I realize how often I make him put up with my playlist even though he much prefers his own. But I have a specific one that helps me when I work, so he usually doesn’t protest too much.

As I sing the lyrics to Your Silent Face for about the thousandth time in my life, and still never tiring of it, I hear Ash join me in singing the last line, “You’ve caught me at a bad time. So, why don’t you piss off,” and we both chuckle under our breath. Over time it’s become a joke between us, ever since the day he walked up to me at work to invite me out for a drink and caught me singing the line aloud.

I think about that night at the bar often. Sitting in the dark corner, like we were in our own world, nothing in the universe existing but the two of us, talking until the bar closed. I remember how disappointed I was when we were eventually forced to leave, how nervous I was as we stood on the edge of the sidewalk. And I’ll never forget the first time that I kissed him.

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if I’d let things continue, if I hadn’t gotten in my head and panicked, if I hadn’t pushed him away. And I want nothing more than to set things right.

As he sits behind me on my bed, I can’t stop thinking about the last time he was there and the words he said to me. I wish I’d handled it differently. I want to take it all back. To tell him he was right. But I don’t know how. Ash is the easiest person in the world to talk to, and yet, every time I think of opening my mouth to say anything I have a deep sense of dread that it will come out all wrong, that I’ll somehow make everything worse by doing so.

“I have a question.” The sound of Ash’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I stop typing, suddenly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

“What’s up?”

“The whole I-don’t-date-people-I-work-with thing, is that for real? Or is it your way of letting me down gently?”

I’m a bit confused by his question. Could he really think I’m not into him and just saying that to spare his feelings? “No, I meant it.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

I get up from my desk and walk over to join him on the bed as I think about how to answer. I hate that I suddenly feel the need to defend an argument that I don’t fully believe, but what else am I supposed to do? Say never mind, I was full of shit? Or actually I’ve changed my mind, let’s forget about it. I can’t do that. So, I give a reason, and secretly hope he makes a solid rebuttal that will give me the opening I need to take it back, “It’s messy,” I say, “Like, if we get in a fight or break up, and still have to work together, it’s just—”

“Messy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...” he stands and walks over to my bookshelf, looking over it like he’s suddenly very interested in my old worn-out copies of Tolkien books. I have a tendency to reread the same books, the same way I listen to the same songs over and over. I suppose I find comfort in the familiar. Maybe even more so than most. I’m tempted to make a comment about it, but I know Ash well enough by now to know that he’s not interested in the books, that he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say next, so I wait. Eventually, he turns back to me, “So, if we didn’t work together…?”

“Then, it’d be different.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk as he walks over. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, his legs between mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously, “Different how? Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend for, say, five minutes, that we don’t work together.” He leans forward, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his face mere inches from mine, the spices from the chai tea he drank on his way over still lingering on this breath, and I feel a rush of heat fill my face and neck as if the very nearness of him has set me alight.

“Five minutes?”

“Mhm,” he grins, “Five minutes. What would you do differently?” His eyes take on that playful glimmer that makes my heart race. I know that look. He knows I know that look. And it all goes to my head until all I can think about is pulling him back onto the bed with me.

“Set a timer.”

He smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek as he slides his thumb over the screen before turning it around to show me it’s set for exactly 05:00. “Starting… now,” he presses the green button and tosses it onto the bed.

I waste no time, reaching for him as soon as the phone leaves his hand, and pulling him with me as I lie back. He falls on top of me with a startled laugh.

I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly, of savoring each second the way I normally would. Instead, I roll him over and kiss him fiercely. Our legs intertwine, and I hold him as close to me as I can, wishing we’d had time to remove our clothes so I could feel his skin against mine.

Our kisses become deep and passionate, and I start to resent the timer counting down, my awareness of it preventing me from fully giving in to the moment. I’m tempted to reach over and turn it off, but I can’t do that, so instead I move my lips to his jaw, following the path of his birthmark and burying my face in his neck wishing I could pause time through sheer will alone.

And then the timer goes off. A series of loud beeps brings the room back into focus, and we pull away, breathless and laughing.

“Time’s up,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Damn. I should’ve gone for an hour.”

“That would’ve been dangerous.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Guess you’ll never know,” I laugh as he pushes me away playfully so he can get to his phone, still beeping behind us.

The sounds of Blue Monday coming from the speaker take the place of the alarm as he shuts it off and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, well,” he looks over at me, “you’ve convinced me.”

Convinced him? I suddenly feel as though I’ve missed something along the way. “Convinced you of what?”

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

Everything inside me halts. My heart, my breath, every cell in my body stopping in their tracks. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugs as though what he’s saying is no big deal, “Why not? It’s just a job. I’ll find another one. Question is, is that enough? Or are you gonna make me wait the two weeks until I’m actually gone?”

My body restarts again, overcorrecting and going into overdrive, panicking at the idea of him leaving, of not seeing him every day. Getting coffee, going for walks, eating lunch, telling stupid inside jokes over IM and hearing him laugh from across the room… all of it… ending. “I… I don’t want you to quit.”

“Well, if you won’t let me be both, then I choose boyfriend over co-worker.”

“Wh- boyfriend?” A fresh wave of anxiety pours over me at the word. I mean, I get it, we’re obviously not just friends, I don’t think we ever have been, and we’re clearly incapable of being casual, at least with each other, so boyfriend makes sense, but hearing him say the word only reminds me of how incompetent and inexperienced I am when it comes to real relationships.

“Or am I just a piece of ass?”

“What?! No, of course not, it’s not like that.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. My head spins, scrambling to come up with something... I can’t let him quit his job just to be with me. It’s too much. And I don’t want to not work with him. But I can’t tell him I want him to stay and be with me. Not after all the time I’ve spent insisting he can’t. Even if I could, I have no idea how to be his boyfriend. Not for real. But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

I have to find a way to talk to him, but the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to find the words as they get crowded out by the growing chaos of conflicting thoughts swirling around my head like an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl.

Next to me, I feel his shoulders slump, and I know I’ve let him down… again. “Right.” He says this as if my silence has told him everything he needs to know. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Atlas," he sighs, "I’m tired of the mixed signals. I wish you could just be honest with me. When you're ready to do that, let me know. But I’m not going to wait around much longer. I can’t.”

I reach for him as he gets up to leave, “Ash, wait.”

But he shrugs me off, “Nah,” and continues out the door.

Once he’s gone, I lie down on the bed wondering how the hell I’ve managed to fuck this up yet again.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could do things differently.

And, if that’s the case, maybe it’s time I let him go.

As this realization sinks in, I feel my heart start to break, slowly at first, small fissures splintering, then shattering all at once as I stare silently at the floor, my throat tightening as my body tries desperately to remember how to cry, to give some kind of cathartic release for the pain. But, just like me, it fails yet again.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode

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7waystreet · 9 months ago

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dirty confessions | kim taehyung

This BTS 18+ explicit series will include 7 diary entries (one from each of the bangtan boys) confessing to the dirty thoughts they have about (y/n) and the sinful sexual acts they've part taken in during their lives.

I kindly ask the reader to start with pt.1 and end with pt.7 since it's a series and will contain overlapping scenarios and characters ♡

✬ foreword pt. 1 — seokjin pt. 2 — yoongi pt. 3 — namjoon pt. 4 — hoseok pt. 5 — jimin pt. 6 — taehyung pt. 7 — jungkook

pt. 6 — taehyung

Hi diary,

I have a confession to make. Not only did I indulge in that mind blowing threesome with Jimin and his chick, but I also secretly fucked Jungkook's gf (y/n) in the butt.

It's not just lust when it comes to (y/n)... she's been my best friend for years and I've been in love with her for as long as I can remember, much before the time she began dating Jungkook. I'd never confessed my feelings to her out of the fear of losing her, and looking back, I'm thankful I never did bcuz she ended up falling for Jungkookie anyways. It took me months to finally accept I'd never have her, my heart breaking every single time I saw them together happily in love, until I forced myself to get over it.

Her happiness means the world to me.

But everything changed when (y/n) approached me with a dark cloud looming above her head during our group roller skating meetup last weekend, appearing very much unlike her usual fun self... everything changed forever.

Hobi hyung and I struggle the most while roller skating, the fear of death flashing right before my eyes when I tumbled and got ready to fall smack onto the floor. But I suddenly felt two soft arms curl around my waist and hold me up straight from slipping, her fresh sweet scent seeping into my senses confirming my best friend (y/n) had indeed saved my ass. A heat flared through my chest knowing she was so close to me and enveloping my back in her warmth, my broken heart desperately pleading she'd never let go... but just like that, she inched out of the embrace and helped turn me around, a smile perking up my lips when my eyes met her beautiful ones.

But that happiness quickly faded away after I noticed the somber look on her dulled out face.

"What's wrong?" I asked her with a deepening concern, my fear of being on skates instantly disappearing as all of my attention went straight to her, trying to understand the reason behind her sadness.

"It's Kook."

My heart dropped hearing the depressing tone in her voice bcuz I knew how much he meant to her, her joyless demeanor indicating something was seriously wrong. I asked her what'd happened but it made me feel guilty as her eyes started to flood with tears. So I suggested if she just wanted to hangout after roller skating and talk about it, to which she agreed with a nod, then slowly drifting away towards Jungkookie while he was too busy playing with others.

"I think Kook's cheating on me. He just seems so distracted lately and he barely wants to have sex... I can't help but think he's with someone else. Sorry Tae. I know this is all TMI, but I couldn't share this stuff with anyone else but you."

As much as my sore heart wanted her to shut the fuck up about her sex life with Jeon Jungkook, I knew I had to put aside my hurt feelings and be there for my best friend. I assured her the young one was probably just stressed out bcuz of the upcoming concert prep as he always wants to give his 110% for ARMY, and that's probably why he seemed distant. There was no real proof that could confirm he was cheating on her, and I didn't want to feed her anxiety any more than what the poor girl was already experiencing. I wanted her to feel better.

My tummy madly flipped around when she suddenly flung her body onto mine, making me sink back into the couch's cushion with her weight on top of me, her small face buried in my chest while I could hear her silent sobs and shudders of worry. Nothing else mattered in that moment, my arms engulfing her in a big bear hug at once and holding her tight, her makeup staining my hoodie in the prettiest way possible.

I assured (y/n) that nobody could hurt her as long as I was standing by her side, which would be for the rest of our lives. My gut wrenched when she pulled away and looked up at me with glistening eyes, sniffling her snot heavy before a smile cracked through her gorgeous lips, my own mouth reflecting a grin when she sighed out in ease after a long time of crying.

"Why do you even put up with all my bullshit?" she awkwardly chuckled, cutely wiping her tears away with the back of her palm, but she froze in place when I blurted out "That's what you do for the girl you love."

The next couple of mins are burned into my memory forever for the way they made me feel a roller coaster of emotions... mostly an overwhelming amount of regret though. (y/n) gazed into my eyes while both her hands were still on my chest, her swollen face then leaning up to mine and pressing our lips together in a soft, sizzling kiss. The way our breaths naturally synced and fastened up made us both pause with our eyes closed shut to comprehend what'd just happened, our noses slightly touching as we remained inches away from each others faces. We'd just willingly shared our first kiss together.

I wasn't sure how we'd ended up doing this now after years of being the closest of friends... everything almost feeling like a dream, but to my pleasure it wasn't. (y/n) was mine in that moment, and I was willing to do anything to make her feel happy. I did respectfully ask to check if this is really what she wanted and she confirmed she did... if (y/n) felt peace in my arms, then I was gonna give her just that.

The best part was none of this shit felt weird, not even when we'd both made our way into the safety of my bedroom, probably bcuz (y/n) and I've slept in the same bed plenty of times before, just never in a sexual way like tonight. We'd already gotten into a hot makeout within seconds, our lips struggling to stay detached while I lightly sucked on her tongue, our hands slowly exploring one another's bodies to get used to touching each other in this unashamed way. It's crazy how many emotions I'd repressed all these years, passionate emotions I felt for her that were bursting out of me when my body got on top of hers and saw her crumble underneath my touch.

Her lips quivered when my palm wrapped around her neck and added a slight pressure, her face lighting up with excitement by seeing this hidden dominant side of me in such a way, my lips grazing her shivering ones as I leaned down and asked her "Is there something you wanted to try in bed... something he didn't do that I could help you with?"

My blood set on fire when she choked out "Anal" the more I added pressure on her throat with my palm, my lips immediately crashing into hers after hearing that word, my whole being now kissing her with a raging thrill, her moans mingling with mine while we began to really get into the mood.

The key to making any girl comfortable for anal is foreplay, and although (y/n) suggested drinking alcohol to loosen ourselves up, I refused the offer as I wanted to be in my senses and live in the present without being under any kind of influence. We naturally eased into a rhythm in no time though, our bodies wildly grinding against one another to up our desires even more, my throbbing cock rubbing onto her clit through our clothes enough to make her want to tear my clothes off right then and there.

I'll never forget the shocked looked on (y/n)'s face when she looked down at my big boner pop out after she'd pulled off my sweatpants, her throat visibly taking in a big gulp at the thought of my dick entering her tight lil ass. But the worry on her face faded away the second my mouth touched her clit, the way I was going down on her melting her into sweet pudding, although her pussy tasted way better than that. (y/n)'s moans and yelps were getting me off, my eyes focused up on her face while my tongue circled her clit and sucked on it with the perfect titillating pressure, my mouth then teasing her folds and slurping up her juices already flooding out while I rubbed her clit with my thumb to keep arousing her and loosening her muscles.

It was the most intimate night of my life, the trust we both feel in each other as best friends allowing us to let go and perform such a sensitive act without worry. Just seeing her arch her back and get on all fours for me made me harden up even more, the sexy view of her fine ass right in front of me making my stomach drop while I poured a ton of lube on my cock and rubbed a little on her hole, her knees instantly shuddering at my touch. Leaning down towards her face, I kissed (y/n) and told her to communicate with me if anything hurt or felt uncomfortable and she eagerly kissed me back and smiled to finally give me the go.

Holy shit was it magical... the level of tightness in her ass something I'd never experienced before, the tip of my cock gradually inching in while I observed her moves, (y/n) whimpering and clutching the sheets in fists to get through the initial pain. I wanted to do everything possible to ease her into it so I guided my girl through the entirety of the sex, encouraging her to simultaneously touch herself the way she liked it while I stretched her butt out. My dick was fully nestled inside her hole by now, (y/n)'s fingers rubbing her clit in circles to the dirty talk I was now feeding her, praising her for how hot she was making me feel, how she was going to make me cum so hard, and how I wanted to keep fucking her all night long until she couldn't stand up or walk.

All of my fantasies were playing out one by one as I talked nasty to her and told (y/n) just how bad I wanted to ruin her, her chest shuddering while she kept touching herself and I picked up the pace of fucking her anally, my cock on cloud 9 feeling the friction of her ass against my bare skin, the need to cum approaching soon while (y/n)'s screams indicated she was nearing her end too.

My huge load of cum dripped right out of her asshole like a cream donut after I came straight into her with a breathless sigh, (y/n)'s legs clenching and her chest collapsing after she'd cum herself from the heightened combination of things. The sight was too beautiful to take in. Her legs gave out and she fell flat on the bed, her face in the mattress and body shaking as she tried to gain her severed breath, my body laying down next to her and rubbing her back to soothe her as I tried to calm down from my high myself.

(y/n) finally turned around and smiled at me, the both of us acknowledging the fact that nothing would change between us despite sharing this unforgettable experience together. Everything felt perfect.

a/n ♡

i imagined a "friends to lovers" plot for tae as it'd suit him the best over the others, knowing he's a social butterfly with many friends irl. altho this storyline has similarities to hoseok's, the motive behind the sex in both plots is diff; tae's not wishing revenge or lust like hobi. tae simply loves (y/n) but it blinds his judgement of betraying jungkook. tae is known to acting on whim irl and just doing what his heart freely desires, so the unplanned act with (y/n) doesn't come as a shocker.

— social butterfly: tae's able to establish a rapport with jimin's gf just like he is with jungkook's gf without having his own gf. he naturally possesses the quality to bond with various people, which is shown by the way he's able to hookup with both girls without any awkwardness

— eccentric persona: anal isn't the most common sexual act but it doesn't scare him when (y/n) suggests it. he's accepting of trying new things especially with his best friend, a reflection of tae's "free spirit" personality and lifestyle irl

— care giver: instead of drinking alcohol as a short cut to loosening up, he makes (y/n) feel comfortable by going down on her, easing her into things bcuz acts of service is a big part of his love language irl

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x oc #taehyung fic #taehyung au #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #방탄소년단 #dirtyconfessions #7waystreet

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ivyyisbored22 · 7 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 14

Bang Chan

There's some stupid article or whatever on the internet that says your partner's DNA stays on your mouth for an hour after kissing. If that's actually true, Aria's essence, taste, DNA, everything will be on me not for an hour but for the rest of my life.

"What were you talking with him that made you laugh so much?"

"Not anything you need to know"

"You think this is funny?"

"I think you're overreacting. Just because I was talking to someone other than you."

I have never lost it with my friends since the beginning of knowing them even though we give each other shit. But if I catch Aria with Hyunjin again smiling and laughing like that- I will definitely lose my fucking mind.

What the hell is wrong with me?

We had an agreement, a god damn contract, and now I'm acting like some jealous asshole because my wife was getting along with another man- my best friend, for crying out loud.

The thought should terrify me, but instead, it makes me want her more. It makes me want to hold on to this feeling, to her, even tighter.

"Everything is prepared and set for launch in a few months," Jane, my personal assistant, said as she stood in my office this morning, running through recent contracts, stocks, and an overview of the products we were preparing to launch.

Aurelius stood out for it's luxury and elegant collections, fashion shows, and an unwavering commitment to innovation. This new line was particularly significant, marking a bold step into sustainable luxury- a gamble that could either solidify our standing or expose us to criticism.

As Jane continued her updates, my mind wandered back to the previous night with Aria. The way she surrendered herself to me in my Rolls Royce sent nothing but pure satisfaction coursing through my veins. I could still feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her lips, the way her body arched, as if she were made to fit perfectly in my arms.

She is fucking made for me. Her body moulded and melted with mine like a missing piece of a puzzle I struggled to solve. And there was nothing more pleasing than making her see and feel that she was no one's but mine.

I was so fucking hard at the sight of seeing her naked and needy last night, my cock was about to pierce and break free from my tailored pants that costs more than one's house rent.

The way she cried with pleasure when I explored every inch of her with my hands and mouth felt like getting lost in a fantasy, where I never wanted to return to the real world.

"Mr. Bang, are you listening?" Jane's voice pulled me back to the present.

"Yeah, sorry. Go on," I said, forcing myself to concentrate. I couldn't afford distractions, not with so much riding on this launch. Jane gave me a concerned look but continued.

"The investors are eager, but there are whispers of skepticism regarding the sustainable materials. Some think it's just a marketing gimmick."

"Let them think what they want," I replied, a touch of frustration in my voice. "We'll prove them wrong with results."

"Of course"

"Is there anything else?" I asked Jane, hoping to wrap up the meeting.

"Just one more thing," she said hesitantly.

"There's been some unusual activity reported by our IT department. They think someone might be trying to access our confidential files."

My eyes widened at her words, a cold shiver running down my spine. "What?" I tried to keep my voice low but it came our sharper than I intended.

"They're still investigating, but they haven't pinpointed the source yet," Jane replied, her own worry evident in her expression. "It could be an internal issue or an external threat. We're not sure. Whatever they try, it leads to unknown"

I rubbed my temples. Great. When I thought everything could go smoothly, some bullshit has to come and ruin everything.

"I need that fucker tracked down by the end of the week. I don't care what security measures you have to implement or how much overtime it takes. Just get it done," I snapped, my frustration bubbling over.

Jane nodded, her expression steely. "Understood."

As she left the office, I leaned back in my chair, trying to reign in my temper. My mind raced through a thousand possibilities. Any number of competitors could be behind it and I cannot afford any leaks on this project I've been working on for a year.

I sat there for a moment, the weight of the situation bearing down on me. The launch was critical, and then there was Aria. My mind kept drifting back to her and last night no matter how much I tried to keep it down.

There was too much at stake. My father was counting on me, the board was watching, and the future of Aurelius depended on my ability to handle this.

As much as my father believes in me to take over the company one day, giving such a project in my hands is his way of testing my leadership. I trusted myself with my logics and strategies, yet, something in my gut is telling me to be aware of an upcoming threat.

With a sigh, I pushed those thoughts aside. I couldn't afford to let my emotions cloud my judgment. I returned to the pile of documents on my desk, diving into the work that needed to be done. But no matter how hard I tried to focus, the memory of a certain brunette lingered, a constant reminder of what could be slipping through my grasp.

Fuck this hell. I need a drink.

But instead of going to my cabinet where I keep my whiskeys and other expensive wine, I grabbed my phone and dialed my favourite Michelin star restaurant.

"Good morning. I'd like to make a reservation for this afternoon"

***

"Oh wow Chris, this place looks stunning" Aria said, her eyes wide with admiration as she took in the elegant surroundings of L'Étoile.

The restaurant was a symphony of sophistication and luxury. Huge chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. The walls were adorned with tasteful art, each piece carefully chosen to complement the refined atmosphere. The tables were dressed in crisp, white linens, and the gentle clinking of silverware and murmured conversations added to the ambiance.

I watched Aria's face light up, a small, genuine smile tugging at my lips despite myself.

"I thought you might like it," I said, guiding her inside the restaurant. We slowly stepped inside, the soft hum of classical music enveloping us as the scent of freshly baked bread and exquisite dishes wafted through the air.

Wee approached the hostess stand, a well-dressed host with a polished demeanor greeted us with a courteous bow.

"Good afternoon. I have a reservation for the afternoon. Under Christopher Bang" I said smoothly while my hand remained on the small of Aria's back. She stood so close to me, I could feel the faint scent of her floral perfume.

"Good afternoon, Mr. And Mrs. Bang. Your table is ready. Please follow me" The host instantly recognised me and led us through the restaurant, weaving between tables adorned with crisp white linens and sparkling silverware.

We passed a live string quartet playing in the corner, their music adding another touch of elegance. Our table was perfectly positioned near a large window, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline illuminated against the afternoon sky.

The host pulled out Aria's chair with a practiced grace, and she settled into it with a look of awe still etched on her face. I took my seat across from her, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction.

"Your server will be with you shortly," the greeter said, placing the menus in front of us with a polite smile. "Please enjoy your afternoon."

As he walked away, I noticed Aria's eyes scanning the room, taking in every detail. She looked stunning in her gorgeous black coat and boots outfit, accentuating her natural beauty.

I felt a strange warmth in my chest, a feeling I was beginning to recognize as more than just physical attraction which surprisingly didn't feel uneasy.

The waiter approached, handing us the menus with a flourish. "Would you care for some wine to start?" he asked, his tone professional yet warm.

"Sure, bring us your best red," I replied, glancing at Aria who nodded in agreement. As the waiter left, Aria leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"This place is amazing. How did you find it?"

A faint smile tugged the corner of my lips as I watched her gaze locked with mine. "It is. I used to come here with my father. We love their dishes"

I managed a cool voice, trying to calm down a racing heart having no idea why it's beating so fast. Somehow today being with Aria felt different. Her gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes that made my heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said quietly.

I looked away, pretending to study the menu. "I thought you might want to spend some time outside" I replied, but even I could hear the slight tremor in my voice.

The waiter returned with the wine, pouring us each a glass. I took a sip, letting the rich, velvety liquid coat my tongue, trying to calm the conflicting emotions swirling inside me.

"Shall we order?" I asked, eager to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory of feelings.

As we discussed the menu, I couldn't help but steal glances at her. The way she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved- it was all insanely distracting.

"So um," Aria spoke in a low voice, attempting to break the silence. "How's work?"

"It's," I took a sip of the wine. I've gotten so used to whiskey, even the best wine tastes like fruit juice from the supermarket.

"It's hectic as always," I finally replied, my voice softer than usual. "The upcoming launch is taking up most of my time." I was being careful with the words but somehow I felt like I wanted to share more with her than just the weather and how the food tastes.

"You did mention that it was a big step," She replied softly, encouraging me to continue, those big brown eyes having trapped the soft glow of the lights above us.

I took a deep breath, deciding to let her in a bit more. "We're introducing a new sustainable luxury collection. It's a quiet a big shift for the company, and there's a lot riding on it. It's exciting, but also nerve-wracking."

Aria watched me with concern. "That sounds intense. It's a lot to handle."

"Yeah," I admitted, feeling a slight weight lift off my shoulders just by talking about it. "But it's not just that. There's a lot of pressure from the board, my father, and everyone else. Sometimes it feels like I'm juggling too many things at once."

She reached across the table and gently placed her hand over mine. "You're doing great, Chris. I believe in you." Her words, simple as they were, meant more to me than I wanted to admit.

I squeezed her hand briefly, the soft brush of her hand over mine felt like a lifeline of a stormy sea.

"Thanks, Aria. It helps to hear that." She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"You don't always have to carry everything on your own, you know." I nodded, appreciating her support but knowing I had to keep my distance. But fuck, it was becoming harder and harder.

"I know. But some things are easier dealt with alone."

The rest of the meal passed in a more relaxed silence, her presence comforting yet bittersweet. Being with Aria was becoming more than just a contractual partner; she was someone I could confide in, someone who genuinely cared.

But I couldn't afford to let my guard down. Not yet. It was nearly impossible to shake off the feeling of this connection we were building. It was both a blessing and a curse.

And as much as I wanted to open up to her, to let her in completely, the risk of getting hurt, or worse, hurting her, was too high. She has dealt enough of my shit over the past months.

As we made our way out of the restaurant to my Porsche, I couldn't forget the way her eyes sparkled everytime she looked at me. They held hope and something I wasn't sure but desperately wanted to believe in.

Fuck. She's so gorgeous and so full of life, a pang of guilt hit me again, but I pushed it aside. I needed to focus. We made it to the car, I opened the passenger door for her and walked over to the driver's side.

The engine roared to life, and with a smooth glide, we pulled out onto the street. The city blurred past us as we drove in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Every now and then, I stole glances at Aria. She was staring out the window, her expression soft and contemplative.

Instead of taking the direction to my mansion, I drove to the headquarters of Aurelius.

"Where are we going?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"You'll see," I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. I could feel her gaze on me, but I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away.

After getting through the crazy traffic, we arrived at the towering headquarters of Aurelius. I slowly pulled into the entrance of the underground parking lot.

The security gates lifted as the system recognized my car, and I drove into the private parking area reserved for executives.

"Come on," I said, stepping out after parking the car and walked over to open her door. Her hand slipped into mine, Aria looked around, taking in the surroundings with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"I thought it was time you saw where I spend most of my days. And nights."

"This is where you work?" she asked as she stepped out of the car, her eyes wide. "Yeah," I nodded, feeling a strange mix of pride and nervousness.

We walked into the minimalist yet luxurious building, the receptionist greeted us with a nod as we made our way to the elevator to the top floor.

The ride up was silent, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was filled with anticipation, well, at least on my part. When the elevator doors slid opened and my hand fell on the small of her back as I led her down the hall to my office.

The soft clicks of my shoes and her heels on the marble floor echoed through the corridor, the only sounds breaking the stillness.

Jane was sitting at her desk in front of my office, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She looked up as we approached, a surprised smile spreading across her face. I gestured her to sit when was stood up, tapping in my passcode and I pushed open the doors, as we stepped inside.

The office was spacious and modern, exuding an air of authority and elegance. My desk, a sleek piece of dark mahogany with polished chrome accents, stood in the middle of the room. It was positioned strategically to face the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, along with my coffee table and furniture for late night drinks.

Behind the desk, built-in bookshelves lined the walls, filled with an array of business books, awards, and framed photographs.

Aria glanced around the office, her eyes capturing and taking in every detail. She walked around the room, her fingers lightly brushing over the surface of my desk and the spines of the books on the shelves.

She stopped at the framed picture of my father and me, us dressed in our black suits with the Aurelius building behind us, a moment of pride and legacy frozen in time.

"You and your father," she said softly, glancing at me. "You look so much alike."

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the photograph. "He's been a huge influence on my life. Everything I've learned, is from him."

Aria turned back to me, her eyes full of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place. "I can see that you're continuing his legacy," Her eyes fell on the floor then on me.

"But there's more to you than just work."

A pang clenched my chest at her words. She saw through the façade I had carefully constructed, the one that protected me from getting too close, from feeling too much.

"Aria," I began, my voice low and steady. "There's a lot you don't know about me." She took a step closer, her gaze unwavering.

"Then tell me, Chris. Let me in."

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. Aria was a beacon of warmth in my otherwise controlled existence. Years of conditioning told me to retreat, to protect myself from the vulnerability her presence evoked.

I glanced at the photograph of my father. He had taught me strength, resilience, but emotions were never part of his lessons.

My mother was the woman he fell in love with and will love for the rest of his life. But unfortunately me being able to feel that is something I didn't inherit from my parents.

Aria's gaze was still on me, her eyes searching for mine. Searching for someone behind my exterior who would love her the way she deserves and I...

I wasn't that man she deserves.

"Chris,"

Before she could finish, I erased the distance between us, capturing her lips with mine. It was tender, yet filled with an intensity that spoke of all the things I couldn't say.

Her fingers sank in my hair as my hands held her waist, the surrounding faded away, leaving the two of us to get lost to wherever our souls desired.

She was mine. In every existing universe. But she was worth more than anything I felt capable of giving.

When we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in. If only she knew and if only I could keep her wrapped in the warmth of my embrace, shielded from the doubts that threatened to consume me, then maybe, I could give her the love she deserved...

The love I couldn't feel.

------------------------

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123 @mrs-hwangh @greyyeti @sociallyawkward18 @stephanieeeyang @piscesrising01 @jaquisos @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx, Ivyy

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auraworkshop · 1 year ago

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Aura ukw, it's been YEARS since I'm trying to enter void which is literally within me. Now after trying every conceivable method, I'm feeling completely lost, I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I lost myself fighting somewhere </3

I CAN NEVER EVER ENTER THE VOID, IT'S JUST SO HARD FOR ME

WHENEVER I MEDITATE TO ENTER THE VOID, MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS DISTRACTS ME

IT'S BEEN YEARS, I FEEL LIKE I'M NOT MAKING ANY PROGRESS, I FEEL LIKE I'M NOT DOING ENOUGH

THESE DAYS THERE THINGS THAT ARE TOO “OFFICIAL” TOO “SERIOUS” TOO “TIME SENSITIVE”. YOU KNOW THESE TYPES OF SITUATIONS WHEN IT IS TOO “PHYSICAL” TO IGNORE

I am hella tired of EVERYTHING, sometimes I feel, I should just go and die somewhere !

I CAN NEVER ENTER THE VOID, IT'S JUST SO HARD FOR ME

~ Void state, although it seems a bit intimidating, is actually a very simple state. Your mind might believe that its difficult, but it's as simple as embodying the consciousness of I am. Let go of 'trying' to enter it and instead assume that you are in fact in void state now. You might ask yourself, how do I even know that this is void state? Just feel into your consciousness, focus on being and embody being. Let go of doubts and be at peace with whatever is in your body or around you. You only have to be. Stop worrying about whether you will enter the void state, you are already in it, it's your default natural state.

You are the space in which everything occurs, therefore, it is not something you can get into, but something that is already you. Simply remember that you are the void. Stop seeking it as an object and remember that it is your nature. Be it. You are that I Am. You are not in a body, a body is in you. The world is not outside of you, but completely within you.

WHENEVER U MEDITATE TO ENTER THE VOID, MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS DISTRACTS ME

~ When you meditate for the sake of entering the void, you are operating from the state of lack and need. This mindset automatically pushes you away from your goal. Instead, you need to operate from the state of already being in the void. You need to be already there. So when you meditate, focus on being in that void state, not on making it happen or making it happen today. Focus on being in that state now. The void is yours right now if you simply allow it to be.

IT'S BEEN YEARS, I FEEL LIKE I'M NOT MAKING ANY PROGRESS. I FEEL LIKE I'M NOT DOING ENOUGH

~ The moment you are dissatisfied with the progress, you are already not accepting yourself/current situation as it is. Every moment that brings dissatisfaction to you is an attempt to be something other than you are. You're trying to be something other than the 'I AM' with the expectation that this 'something' will finally feel 'right' when you become 'that'. And because you do not know what it will feel like you can never get to the future. You only exist now. There is no 'when' you get there. The process and 'progress'.

Just relax and enjoy the journey. Entering the void state is not about trying hard but rather about being. The more you resist what is, by trying and trying, the more you only prolong the process of reaching that desired state. Let go of all resistance, of the need to force and try, and focus on just chilling and enjoying. It is your birthright to create and manifest.

THESE DAYS THERE THINGS THAT ARE TOO "OFFICIAL" TOO "SERIOUS" TO0 "TIME SENSITIVE". YOU KNOW THESE TYPES OF SITUATIONS WHEN IT IS TOO "PHYSICAL" TO IGNORE

~ You see, even the things you are calling "too official" are only "too official" in your mind. To you. But what you need to remember is that you are not your physical body and everything you see around you is a reflection of what you are actually in your awareness. You are awareness. You are the awareness that is reading this message. Not your physical body.

When you will understand this deeply, that this whole life is a dream, nothing is real, nothing matters you will stop believing in those "too official" things.

I understand you :)

You have been conditioned to believe that it doesn't happen instantly. That you have to "work for it" because that is what's considered "real". You have been conditioned to believe that instant and easy is always a fantasy.

But the truth is this, you are that instant and it always is that easy because you are the creator. You don't have to wait if you don't want to. What you want, is yours already. Do not believe anyone telling you otherwise.

You are so powerful, that you feel lost or discouraged in this moment is just an illusion It is a test, or a lesson. But I know you've got this, because you have made it so far. You just need to trust yourself and know yourself and your own power. You can do it, and it's going to be great. I am so proud of you for how far you have come, and how much you learn more and more about yourself. This is going to be an amazing journey, you're doing so good, keep going !

We have so much power, power that goes beyond "logic" and "physics". We just haven't allowed ourselves to understand this yet. We are still identifying with this body or character.

You're infinite, beautiful, powerful, glorious, eternal.

What's better than this?

It's all you, remember that. All. Of. It.

The whole thing, even the "bad" parts. That's your power and your creation.

You know what you want, you know who you are. You are on this path for a reason and you are so deserving of what you are manifesting. Don't rush things, don't doubt yourself. Just trust the process. You are doing great. I believe in you and you can do this, the world is yours and it's waiting for you to live your best life You are loved, always ! 🤍

#void #void state #non dualism

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sawyer-is-eepy · 1 year ago

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MaDD and plurality

okay so we're MaDD, right?? and we're also plural??

NOBODY talks about how freaking hard that makes communicating omg.

constantly i'll be trying to talk to someone and then i drift off and suddenly they are completely drowned out OR they're ALSO daydreaming!! it's so frustrating, because it means that to even semi-effectively communicate, i have to talk out loud. if i have to communicate something important and we're in a public place i just have to focus REALLY hard on internal communication and it sometimes STILL doesnt work.

on top of that, we have ADHD so it's even harder, and talking out loud still doesn't work that well because without another person physically here to snap me back to reality whenever i'm daydreaming, if i start daydreaming, i'm just stuck until i realize, which can be anywhere from within a minute to literally 20+ minutes. usually they're able to get my attention by that time, but it's hard because our communication is not easy for anyone but the host(me, who is ALWAYS fronting) to initiate, so unless i actively open myself to communicate with them, it's hard for them to get my attention. sometimes my daydreams even last hours, but that usually doesn't happen when i'm not actively deciding to daydream. so yeah, it's really difficult because i've already got issues focusing, and adding basically irresistable urges to daydream at random that get triggered way too easily on top of that, inner communication is SO HARD.

anyways, this makes making a tulpa really fucking difficult because forcing is really hard.

but here are my tips, for other MaDD, especially anyone making a headmate/alter/tulpa/parogen/whatever themself -

incorporate your daydreaming into the communicating/forcing. like daydream you and that alter hanging out and then communicate via that. this does not ensure that you won't start daydreaming about anything else, but it lessens the chances. if you try to force yourself to not daydream at ALL the urges are gonna be much harder to ignore, at least for me. if you're ALREADY daydreaming, and it gets interesting enough, minor distractions are gonna catch your attention less and less because you WANNA focus on this one daydream. it becomes much more enjoyable.

this kind of like the last one, but this is more specific to tulpa/parogen forcing. don't really view it as a chore, which i've accidentally been doing more and more. not a chore i dislike, but i've been viewing it like something i have to do every single day for x amount of time other wise it wont work and it'll fail horribly and everything will be ruined, when it shouldn't need to be that. it shouldn't be on a to-do list, unless that really works for you(which if that's the case that's freaking awesome and you should probably ignore this tip). idk about everyone else, but it's much easier for me to daydream if i'm treating something like something i need to do because it's so much more tempting to just go live somewhere else for a minute while i do things i need to do. i often daydream doing chores because it's not interesting enough to keep me grounded. so, to make sure it gets done, i drift off while i'm doing it, so i am doing it in the real world but to me i'm in another world or in one of my stories. but for forcing, to be able to do it, you HAVE to be constantly aware and present. if you view it like you're just having a fun little conversation with them, it becomes like whenever you're bored or lonely just like you would reach out to a friend, but instead you're getting some talking to your head friend in. even if it's not traditional forcing, it works and develops them more, even if it's just a bit here and there. idk about everyone else, but i think partially because of my ADHD and partially because of my MaDD, whenever i have a chore i need to do i kind of put it off if i'm already doing something. i don't really *want* to put it off, but i just can't get my body to move. especially when I'm daydreaming. because, why would i get up and do the boring thing when i can watch my story in my head ? it's so much easier to sit and do nothing. but as we all know, that ADHD paralysis is so so SO stress inducing, the best option is to always get up and try to force yourself to. idk if non-ADHD MaDD will relate at all though, because that paralysis is mostly exclusive to those with ADHD afaik, but for me, my MaDD makes it much worse. anyways, that probably didn't make much sense sorry

write down what everyone is saying. this makes it much easier to keep track of what they are saying and stay present, but it also documents the conversation as well. so even if you weren't that present during the conversation, or you're worried you'll forget something important, you'll have a record to read back on later if you need! and also with created alters/headmates, keeping track of their progress is always incredibly important!!

don't listen to music! this one might be a bit of a given but unless it's like instrumental music that you genuinely won't pay that much attention to but still helps you focus, DON'T listen to it. songs are an easy gateway into a daydream. ESPECIALLY songs with lyrics, even ones that you can't understand because they're in another language, which by the way for literally any other thing you need to focus on, that's a great tip, listening to music in other languages, because you can still focus with interesting music in the background but the lyrics arent grabbing you at all. anyways back to plural-related MaDD tips, yeah, don't listen to music. even if that song usually doesn't catch your attention. for me, if i'm talking, internally or externally, and there's music with lyrics playing, i reallyyy cannot focus on what i'm(or others, again, internally or externally) are saying. idk, might just be some sort of auditory processing issue related to my ADHD but i cannot focus on it, and because it's hard, i just need to pick one, and sometimes my brain picks the song and i just. stop talking. and start daydreaming.

idk what to do if you're not fronting and trying to communicate with whoever is fronting, because i've not switched(like i mentioned before, the host, who is me, has never not been the one fronting), but if anyone has any other tips either related to that or the ones i already have here, please feel free to let me know because i'd love to hear them and i'm sure others do too!! anyways, i hope i helped, idk this might be too specific to me.

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