#i screamed when he said this!! i was really holding my breath the entire season bc i was so used to NOTHING good ever happening hdfhdsf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

h0nkch0c0late · 1 year ago

Text

RAINSTORM

Vincent Nigel-Murray x Reader

WARNING: season 6 spoilers!!! Angst, character death, mentions of blood

SUMMARY: You always loved rainstorms. Now? You felt like one. And this time, you weren't so sure you liked it.

It all happened so fast.

One moment, he was taking the phone from Booth, waiting for the 5th ring.

The next, he was being tackled to the ground by Booth in a panic.

"We're fine." Booth had said as he slowly began to lift himself up.

But as I walked closer to them, I could see the blood begin to spill from beneath Vincent's body.

I froze. My heart began to beat 10× faster than usual, my breathing heavy.

Dr. Brennan raced over, and the two of them began to panic. They were telling him to keep his eyes open, talking to him and trying to help him stay alive.

Before I knew it, my feet unconsciously began to drag me towards them, tears beginning to fight their way past my eyes as I crouched down, lifting his head into my lap.

I held his face in my hands, my thumbs rubbing gentle circles as I tried my best to fight the tears back, to prove to him that he'd be okay.

He looked back and forth between Booth, Brennan, and I as he continued to stutter out his words of desperation.

"I..pl-please dont-just don't make me go." He begged, his eyes meeting mine.

"No one's making you go anywhere, Vince. You can stay here as long as you like because you're going to be fine, okay?" I choked out, one hand letting go of his face and going through his hair.

I could feel Brennan and Booth's eyes staring at me, whether it was shock, sadness, or both I couldn't tell. But I knew this was the first time they had ever seen me so desperate... the first time they had ever seen my cry.

It's funny, really, I hadn't noticed I had let a few tears slip. I was so focused on keeping Vincent alive that I didn't care what I looked like.

"I-I don't want to go, I love-it's been lovely." Vincent stuttered, his breathe slipping away.

I could feel his head getting heavier on my lap, his skin feeling colder against my fingertips as Booth was saying something I couldn't quite make out.

My ears were ringing as I kept staring into Vincent's eyes.

But he wasn't staring at me anymore, He was staring through me. I wasn't met with the same comforting eyes he always gave me. Instead, they were cold. Dead.

Suddenly, someone started to scream bloody murder. I couldn't tell who.

Was it brennan? Me?

My eyes finally moved up towards brennan and Booth, and my question was answered.

I was the one screaming. And i couldn't stop. I couldn't stop the dam in my eyes from breaking, and the screaming couldn't be silenced.

Suddenly I felt myself getting wrenched up from the ground, but I didn't want to leave him. Ever.

I tried to fight against whoever was holding me in place, but it was no use.

They were trying to tell me to calm down, but I couldn't. Vincent was dead, and I was alone again.

How could I ever be calm about that?

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

Before I knew it, we were all sitting at the little conference room thingy where Booth and Sweets would usually meet with families and suspects in.

I had been zoned out, the image of Vincent bleeding out repeating over and over in my head.

It felt like there was a rainstorm in my body, sadness pelting through me heavily, soaking my entire existence.

Usually, I loved rainstorms. They gave me a sense of comfort. The soft patter of raindrops against the windows...covered in a blanket, snuggled up against Vince on the couch.

But now...this rainstormy feeling isn't so nice. And I hate it.

I was knocked out of my thoughts when I heard the door swing open. It was Booth,

"So...Brodsky got away." He began, "He was on a construction crane when he took the shot. We recovered the bullet casing." He showed the empty bullet casing to everyone as he leaned against an empty chair.

I only took a glance at it. Part of me didn't WANT to see the thing that killed my boyfriend.

He then threw it down onto the table, "it was an amazing shot."

"How did Broadsky see into the lab?" Brennan questioned.

"Thermal imaging." Booth looked down at the table, "he aimed for the guy who picked up the phone."

"He meant to kill you." Cam nodded.

"I'm the one who gave vincent the phone. I told him to pick it up." Booth stated, eyes moving towards Cam.

"You didn't know. I mean, there's no use..." Sweets tried to therapize.

I rolled my eyes, my hands clutching to the armrests of the chair I was sitting in. I could feel the anger starting to boil, turning my rainstorm of emotions into a giant thunderstorm. I knew that Booth wasn't to blame, but my views were skewed. I should be blaming Broadsky because he's the one who murdered Vincent, but... I felt as though if I looked at Booth even once, I'd try to kill him.

"I don't blame myself for this, Sweets."

God... even hearing him speak makes me wanna claw him to death.

"-I blame the guy who pulled the trigger."

Sweets nodded, "Okay."

"You still have blood on your hands." Brennan mentioned.

Booth looked away.

"Booth, she, she means literally."

As I looked to his hands, Brennan was right. Booth still had some of Vincent's blood on his hands. Somehow, that was my breaking point.

I jumped up from my chair, clenching my jaw as I quickly walked, stopping beside Booth. "No, actually, it is your fault. You could have given the phone to ANYONE else. But you chose Vincent. It is your fault. And I hate you deeply for it."

Without letting anyone get another word in, I stomped out of the room. I was fully aware that the pants I was wearing were covered in a crimson red. After all, I had been kneeling in his blood.

I didn't stop until I was in my room at the jeffersonian, the two stuffed animals Vincent had gotten me after his trip around the world sat against each other on my desk, and my anger began to slowly melt away.

I smiled as I walked over to them, picking them up. The memory of how I got them began to flood through my mind.

Vincent had just come back from his trip around the world, his first stop back home was to my house. He had walked in with a giant smile, hiding something behind his back.

As I let him in, he kept whatever was behind his back a secret as best he could until we sat down on the couch.

"What have you got behind your back?" I asked curiously, eyebrows raised.

"Guess." He smirked.

"Is it a really expensive necklace that you know I'll feel bad about because I hate when you buy me things that are more than $20?"

he chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it's better."

My eyebrows laced together as I tried my best to think of something, but I ended up blank.

"Sorry, I've run out of things to guess." I shrug.

He laughs, rolling his eyes, "Alright, fine I'll show you."

My eyes light up, excited that I wouldn't have to wait any longer.

He pulls his arms from behind his back, and my eyes widen at the sight.

in his hands were two stuffed animals. Cows. The one in his right hand was the exact one I had when I was a kid. Well, it was a replica, at least. I grabbed both and hugged them tightly. A giant grin plastered my lips.

"Wha-how? How did you?"

He shrugged, "I remembered you telling me about the cow you had when you were a kid. Saw it at the store and just had to buy it. I felt bad just buying it by itself, so I bought the second one so it could have a friend. Did you know cows could have best friends? They have very complex emotions just like us."

I laughed lightly, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug whilst holding the two stuffies.

"Thank you, Vince. You are the best!"

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't say the BEST..." He says modestly, hugging me back.

A knock was heard at my doorframe, and part of me expected it to be Vincent as I turned around, holding the one with the black spots tightly in my arms.

Unfortunately for me, it was Sweets.

I frown, "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to ask if you were alright." He says, hands up in defense at my aggressive tone.

I sigh, "yeah-well, no-its just...its all too much. I didn't mean to burst out at Booth like that...I just... the anger got to me, and I couldn't control it."

Sweets leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, "do you actually blame him for Vincent's death?"

"What? No. No, of course not. It's fully Broadsky's fault. He was the one who pulled the trigger on Vince, not Booth." I look down to the cow plushy in my arms and let out a deep breath I hadn't even realized I was holding in. "I just miss him, Sweets. I keep thinking that if I just blink, he'll be standing right in front of me. And he's not. And it's like there's this rainstorm inside of me that just won't go away and I hate that feeling so much and I want to cry so badly but if I do, that'll make it real. I don't want it to be real, Lance." I say, almost desperately, clinging to the stuffed animal in my arms.

He frowns, walking his way over to me. He didn't say a word, pulling me into a tight hug.

I felt my entire body collapse into him, the walls I built beginning to crumble. I was so much more fragile than I had thought.

"It's okay to cry, you know. In fact, in this circumstance, it's needed." He suggested.

Would he ever stop being a shrink to his friends? Probably not. But it worked. And that dam broke.

Once the tears started, I knew they couldn't stop.

I had gone home that night, and cried even more. I cried until my tear ducts were dry, drank some water, then cried some more until I fell asleep.

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

It was over. Broadsky was defeated, and we wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

But now, the group of us stood near the steps of the building, waiting for Brennan as the van to pick up Vincent's body arrived.

Booth and I had talked a little bit before. It mainly considted of me apologizing profusely for blaming him and him trying to calm me down and saying that it was okay. In the end, it was fine.

"Maybe she's not coming." Cam spoke up.

"No. She'll-She'll be here." Angela nodded.

"Dr. Brennan has been known to retreat into hyper-rationalism in times of emotional turmoil, which could very well result in..." Sweets began to explain, but I cut him off by elbowing him in the side.

"Okay, even I want to slap you now." Hodgins responded.

"Alright, guys. Bones said she would come. She will definitely be here." Booth stated.

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

And, Booth was right. Shortly after we had told the people who were carrying Vincent's casket that we would take care of it, Brennan had appeared with a vase full of flowers.

"Do-do you wanna say something?" Angela asks Booth.

Booth looks a little taken aback, "what? Me? I-I barely knew him."

"That's true." A voice rings out from across the street. Brennan makes her way over to us, her arms around a potted plant. "Booth only called Mr. Nigel-Murray 'The English Squintern'."

I let out a small chuckle at that.

"Well, some of us were worried that you wouldn't make it." Sweets mentioned.

Brennan lifted the vase of flowers up, "I stopped to get this."

"Right, because nothing says "rest in peace" like a potted plant." Cam chuckles.

Brennan sets the vase down onto the casket, "did I...do something wrong?" She asks, confused.

I started to feel the tears well up in my eyes again as I shook my head no.

"No, honey." Angela reassured, "You did something exactly right."

As Brennan took her spot with the group, I took that as my chance to put my own "rest in peace" thing onto his casket.

I looked down at the stuffed cow in my hands, the one with the black patches. It was the "best friend" that vincent had gotten the first one. A small smile appeared on my lips as I walked over to the casket, setting it down against the vase full of flowers that Brennan had put down.

"Did you know that cows grieve when their friends or family die? You were right, Vince. They have complex emotions, just like us." I tell him in a broken whisper.

I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I began to back away, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface once more.

We all stood in silence for a few seconds before Hodgins broke it,

"You know, Vincent gave me a great piece of advice. He said, "The busiest shopping hour of the entire year is between 3:00 and 4:00 on Christmas Eve." So..I never shop during that time."

"Oh." Sweets began, "He told me that Quebec City in Canada has the same amount of street crime as Disney World...so, safe place to visit."

Cam cleared her throat, wiping a tear from her eye, "Vincent informed me that the crack of a whip was actually the tip breaking the sound barrier."

"He told me that the top of the Eiffel Tower is actually six inches shorter in the winter time. So it's better to climb it then." Angela chuckled.

I smiled, "he once told me that even cows have best friends." Is shrugged, "not really useful, just good to know, I guess." I laughed lightly, sniffing as I felt a few teardrops fall from my eyes.

"Vincent's favorite song was "Da Lime and Da Coconut." Brennan chimed in.

Sweets' eyes widened, "Seriously? 'Cause that's like- that's my jam."

Angela and I chuckled together, and I glanced over at Sweets, shaking my head lightly at him.

We then continued our silence until Sweets started to sing Da Lime and Da Coconut, and then suddenly everyone was singing it.

As we sang, we lifted Vince's casket into the truck, booth closing the door and stood there, watching it drive off as we continued to sing.

The others headed inside, still singing as I stood there, staring off at the van that drove further away from my view.

Even Brennan and Booth, who had stopped only for a moment, had gone inside, leaving me to deal with my raging sadness alone.

As I heard the door close, I fell to my knees, letting the tears flow out again as I sobbed into my hands.

I would rather deal with this rainstorm alone than drag the others' sadness on longer than they should.

And it's okay because I've always felt better doing it alone, because that's how I function.

But man, do I wish Vince was with me.

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

😃😃😃😃I am not okay 😃😃😃 also i know its a little longer than my usual ones but <333

#x reader #imagine #angst #vincent nigel murray #vincent nigel murray x reader #im not okay #ive made myself even sadder #they never even got to tell each other how much they loved each other

25 notes · View notes

i-am-suffer · 2 years ago

Text

I’m going through the anti Aang tag rn and…. sigh….. there’s so much bull shit….. like people can have whatever opinions they like but so many of them are based off of unbelievably shallow takes on Aang’s character and character arcs. People are choosing to hate a fictional child because they can’t be bothered to see anything other than the worst in him. So now, in a fit of saltiness, I will be debunking some of the recent Aang criticism I’ve found.

Firstly:

Huh???? Whoever you are, anon, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what good character writing is. Aang isn’t my all-time favorite, and he’s not always written consistently, but he still manages to tell a compelling story of a boy who, even after the genocide of his entire people and with the weight of the world on his shoulders, still manages to hold on to his happiness, his kind spirit, and his morals. And even though he makes mistakes (mistakes that his antis refuse to stop screaming about) he’s still a good person. Not even deep down, either, it’s right there for everyone to see. Which makes it doubly frustrating when people ignore that obvious fact.

Secondly:

Okay, so the context of the comic panel is this: Aang is mulling over his feelings for Katara, and he’s a little sad. Katara walks in, wanting to train with him, but he says he doesn’t want to. Katara thinks he needs to train, especially his firebending — and she’s not wrong — but then she starts throwing water at him and asking him to spar with her. So Aang, frustrated, does some firebending. That’s about where the comic panel is taken from. Taken out of context like that, he looks like he’s about to attack her, but he doesn’t. He actually gets really scared about almost hurting her and asks her if she’s okay. So, thank you for showing the whole unbiased truth, and not ignoring any parts that show things that contradict your opinions on any characters, tumblr user the-badger-mole. You clearly know the importance of reading the entire story before forming said opinions.

*deep breath* Okay. Now let’s talk about the Ember Island Players.

I don’t think Aang kissing Katara was a good decision for the writers to make. In my opinion, Aang was being ooc. They also should have shown him apologizing to Katara afterwards (which I definitely think happened because why else would Katara make the decision to be with him in the last episode?) But even onscreen, Aang isn’t portrayed as being in the right, and he’s clearly shown regretting his actions. He hits himself and calls himself stupid, and he was miserable for the rest of the episode. It was a mistake on his part, and he’s incredibly guilty about it. And it’s important for shows aimed at kids to show characters making mistakes they could make, teaching them not to do those things. That being said, I don’t think Aang traumatized Katara by kissing her. If he had, she wouldn’t have come back to him, and she wouldn’t have initiated the kiss in the finale. Katara is not the type of person to resign herself to a life of assault, and Aang is not the type of person who would knowingly assault someone, especially not someone he cares about as much as he does for Katara.

Which leads into the next criticism:

I am flabbergasted. What do you mean he never helped Katara with her problems? Who was willing to drop everything to take someone he had just met all the way across the world so she could learn waterbending? Who stood up for her when Pakku was being a misogynist? Who comforted her when she was crying about being forced to bloodbend? Who gave up the chance for ultimate power because her life was in danger? And that’s just what I can list off the top of my head. And of course he empathized with her! Also, the kiss at the invasion wasn’t assault. It may have taken Katara by surprise, but it wasn’t assault. Just say you don’t like Kataang and leave it at that.

Fourthly:

It wasn’t handed to him. The lionturtle was foreshadowed in season two, in the Library episode. And stop acting like a thirteen-year-old killing a man with his hands is the best solution. Taking a life is deeply traumatizing, whether or not it’s justified.

Fifthly:

I can only think of one time where the pan-up thing happened, in the fortune teller episode (lmk if I’m wrong tho). Getting flustered when your crush looks pretty is not a crime like these people say it is. Also, Aang literally travelled across the world with Katara and has seen her at her worst, and yet people still have the audacity to claim he doesn’t know her as a person? And don’t try to tell me he doesn’t respect her (“A herd of rhinos… or two waterbenders” —Aang).

Bro. This boy had his entire people killed, including his father figure and all his friends, and just when he’d made two new friends, they were given an opportunity to leave him and seemed to want to. He was afraid of losing Sokka and Katara! He didn’t hide the map out of malice. Plus, he was going insane with guilt the whole time he was hiding it! Sure, it was presented in a comedic light, but he was clearly suffering! And when he got found out and his friends understandably got angry and left, he didn’t try to stop them! He didn’t care about attention, he cared about his friends. (Plus that whole episode was really poorly written, not just with Aang.)

Okay, that about wraps things up. Thank you for reading my long, salty post. I’m going to put this in the anti Aang tag in an attempt to get the antis to actually think about their opinions for once >:3 To my fellow Aang Aapreciators, I congratulate you on your good taste. Love you guys <3

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla aang #atla meta #pro aang #aang apprectaion #aanglove #avatar aang #pro kataang #avatar the legend of aang #aang defense squad #aang #anti aang #aang critical #long post

134 notes · View notes

midnight-rice · 6 months ago

Text

Snippets from Dolphin's undisclosed workplace:

One manager likes to sing the catchiest jingles from children's cartoons and get them stuck in everyone else's heads. Last week was the backpack song from Dora the Explorer, this week it's Dragon Tails. She also puts random movies and shows on the TVs when it's late and we have no business, and is invested in Forged by Fire as a result

"Do you think a Swiffer would burn the top of the oven?" "No, but I think the oven would burn a Swiffer." "SHUT UPPP"

*said during a serious conversation about climate change, in an old-man voice* "Back in my day we used to have FOUR seasons! And I DON'T mean the hotel!"

Same person approached me with a wadded ball of dough and puppetted it in front of me like an evil slime monster while making rasping breathing sounds. Needless to say I died laughing

He also likes to admire pepperonis as they curl in the oven and dance quietly whenever nothing is going on. I like to join him, to my general manager's chagrin. We think he is jealous because as a GM he is not unprofessional enough to dance

My general manager is a warm and friendly man who comes across as more business-minded but still funny. Today after completing my training he confessed to me unprompted that the map of our delivery range looks uncannily like the side profile of the grandmother from Hey Arnold! He's right, and now I can't unsee it

*GM slipped on a mushroom* "Uh oh, he's tripping on shrooms!!"

My coworkers agreed I need to work on my manager voice, they said they'd be shocked to hear me yell. I waited until they were put of the building and yelled as loud as I could, but I sounded like an irate goose 😅

I have been known to make animals out of leftover dough. Not to brag but some of them turn out really good 😌

The store owner relayed an interesting story about a recent even at the other location: apparently someone dashed into the store, grabbed a giant pizza right off of a family's table, and ran out the door. Looney Toons-ass crimes happening there apparently

Everytime I hold the oven mitts I turn into a crab clickclick and everytime i hold a pizza peel I turn into master lancer stabby stab

(did you know that the stick you use to get a pizza out of the oven is called a pizza peel. I didn't know, I had to google it)

One of my coworkers is a socially awkward high schooler who has shared some extremely worrying stories from his life like the time his sister got raped but my favorite interaction with him was when he told me all about Undertale AUs, which I thankfully had some knowledge about due to watching a YouTube video about them a week prior. Rather than the edgy ones like Underfell or Error Sans it sounded like his favorite was the kindest version of Frisk (I forget the name but they rescue characters from bad AUs) because it made him feel hopeful ;_;

A different pair of teens who work here discovered they could overwhelm the label maker's character limit and get it to print in an entirely different font as a result

Every day since I started I have deliberately misspelled my name on my cup to see if anyone notices. Usually it's just the first few letters followed by keysmashes but ocassionally I name it things like "rawr XD" and *Wilhelm screams*

A few weeks after I started i was bored and doodling my go-to monsters on scrap paper. My coworkers liked them so much they taped them to the side of the Pepsi cooler ;_;

My insatiable desire for removable vandalism has led me to hiding stickers of my go-to monster mascot around the store. So far none have been found to my knowledge. I did show off the box whose bottom I completely covered with the little guys though

Half of the store is quite short, myself included. We all make fun of each other for it but I still refuse to get a step stool out when reaching for things on the top shelf

Every time I prep tomatoes I whisper "Ludger-coded" to myself

But I spend most of my time writing gay fan fic in my head

#dolphin noises #it's just retail customer service but man it's nice when you actually like/respect your coworkers and are respected in turn #it's not always fun and games but in general I'm happy here #Dont ask why I'm posting at 4 AM my sleep schedule is fucked

3 notes · View notes

hyenahunt · 2 years ago

Text

Saga: Rivals - 1

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Hokuto, Chiaki, Tori

Proofreading: 310mc (JP) & Peace (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Hokuto: His very existence is evil! My source of stress! Ahh, the peaceful daily life I’d devoted my entire life to building is falling apart!

Location: Empty Classroom

Time: Months later, during winter. A couple of days after Daikagura, on the day Hidaka Seiya makes a visit to Yumenosaki Academy as an interim lecturer.

Hokuto: I just don’t understand!

What the hell is wrong with him!? Somebody, anybody, tell me! Can you see any motive behind my father’s actions besides harassing me!?

Chiaki: Now, now. Don’t blow a fuse, Hidaka. It isn’t like you.

Well, working with you as Rain-bows, I already know that you’re not the unfeeling guy you look like.

But you’re jumping to conclusions too soon! I know just the thing: let’s take deep breaths! Oxygen is our life’s energy…☆

Tori: Yoohoo~♪

Pfft, guess what I heard, Hidaka-senpai! Your Super Idol dad came to school!

You must’ve caused a scene, huh~? I could hear your screams all the way from my classroom ♪

Hokuto: Himemiya… That’s right, it’s really killing me. What should I do? What am I supposed to do?

Tori: W-Whoa, don’t come clinging to me… I was gonna tease you about it, but you’re really sucking the fun out of this. Sheesh, get a hold of yourself, okay?

It’s not like your dad… Seiya-san, was it? It’s not like he came with some evil plan.

Hokuto: His very existence is evil! My source of stress! Ahh, the peaceful daily life I’d devoted my entire life to building is falling apart!

Tori: Ahaha. From my perspective, I don’t think any of you in Trickstar were ever having “peaceful daily lives” in the first place.

What’s another bit of trouble on top of all the others you already have?

Chiaki: Yeah, I think the same, but it does bother me a little… What did Hidaka Seiya come to this academy for, really?

Tori: To teach, obviously? He didn’t teach us first years, so I don’t know much about it… What was his lecture about?

Hokuto: No, he didn't lecture us… He only came for a greeting today.

After introducing himself and harassing me, he made us fill out some kind of questionnaire.

Tori: Questionnaire?

Hokuto: Yeah, he said he wanted to know how we think and what we’re worth to start with.

There were columns asking about our work history and skills like in a normal resume, but most of it were enigmatic questions resembling a personality quiz.

He said we’ll be having a practical test next. So far he feels more like an examiner than a teacher.

Chiaki: Hmm…? Maybe Hidaka Seiya is about to start some job, and came here to acquire the human resources he needs for it…?

In that case, it makes sense that he’d do tests that gauge our abilities.

Tori: So to scout young idols? But if that’s all he wants, isn’t that method strangely roundabout?

What’s the good of coming here yourself, when you can learn an idol’s talent to an extent just with a little research?

Chiaki: Yeah, but you need to come in direct contact with people to understand the real value of their talent. Numbers on paper rarely hold much weight… that’s what I believe.

But I agree, it’s hard to think someone of Hidaka Seiya’s prestige would act based on such a humble reason.

If he’s looking for work partners, all he needs to do is wish and everyone around him would flock together, lifting themselves up for him — Like they’re making offerings to their king.

But the fact is, he came to Yumenosaki Academy in the middle of his impossibly packed schedule. For what sake?

Hokuto: It’s because I can’t figure it out that I’m so confused and anxious…

Sorry, Morisawa-senpai, Himemiya. I know it’s Rain-bows’s first meeting of the new year, but I don’t think I can be very useful in this mental state.

Chiaki: Heheh, don’t be; we understand the situation.

Rest easy, when somebody’s down, the rest of us need only to hold them up. This goes for both Ryuseitai and Rain-bows.

First, let’s find the solution to this Hidaka Seiya problem together. We can’t do much until our leader, Sagami-sensei, comes anyway. It’ll be a good way to kill time.

Tori: …Is Sagami-sensei late again? Doesn’t he lack a little too much motivation?

Hokuto: No, he seems enthusiastic… compared to how he used to be. The reason he’s late today seems to be because there’s an emergency faculty meeting.

You guys know that he’s my homeroom teacher, right? That’s how I heard about it this morning.

…From the timing, I bet they’re discussing how to chase away my father.

Chiaki: No, no, I don’t think they’ll chase him away. Hidaka Seiya is a Super Idol and Yumenosaki graduate. He’s the pride of our school.

They might welcome him, but they’d never dare to get rid of him.

Tori: Oh, he’s an alumnus? Then Hidaka-senpai, did you enroll in Yumenosaki to mimic your dad?

Hokuto: I wasn’t mimicking him… But it’s true that my parent’s recommendation played a part, and that I applied thinking to trace the path they took.

Chiaki: Hmm. Well, I’m sure Sagami-sensei will tell us what he can about the faculty meeting—

But it’s probably just a discussion about the various things that come with welcoming in a new semester.

Plus, Yumenosaki is at an advantage thanks to your unit’s victory in SS, so there are more things they can do now…

The faculty and the management must be brimming with new ambitions to talk about!

Hokuto: Hmph. Good. I’ve always wanted the academy to do their job properly, with how passive they’ve been up till now.

Tori: Mmn~ But that’s what’s allowed Prez—the whole Student Council to be able to do as we please…

I kinda have complex feelings about the executives getting more involved, honestly…

Just the thought of them butting into our affairs from their high horses after all this time gets on my nerves… Prez and Vice-Prez are gonna be graduating too, which means a change of leadership.

I’m not convinced about Isara-senpai being the new president yet. Will he really protect the Student Council’s authority?

Hokuto: Isara will be fine. At the very least, he’ll never work in a direction that’ll make us miserable.

Chiaki: I agree. Isara has a broad perspective and the ability to see the big picture, allowing him to make the right moves when he needs to; I’m sure he’ll be a great leader for the Student Council.

When it seems like he’s having a hard time, you guys just have to support him.

The future is bright. These recent days have especially made me believe it without a shred of doubt!

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #s: saga #hyenahunttl #hokuto hidaka #tori himemiya #chiaki morisawa

13 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 11 months ago

Text

I am a FUCKING MESS. Wow. Your talent is inspirational and this story...God I'm sorry I feel like I just can't even wrap up into words how I'm feeling right now. I don't know if I've ever devoured something so quickly because I like, needed to. I could feel myself panicking while reading it and crying and just...wow. I'm amazed and look forward to be annoying about everything you write forever 💛 now excuse me, I'm off to print this for my bookshelf.

“I’ll never forget the first time you pinned me to the mats,” he spoke soft, catching you off-guard. You could feel his smile against your ear, the upturn of his lips. “You knocked the wind clear out of me, had me seeing stars, and then you leaned over me to help me up. You had this big, beautiful grin on your face, like you’d never had more fun in your entire life. Robin was doubled-over laughing in the corner.”

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt.

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.”

HAHAHAHAHA I love Vickie.

It makes me so sad that she was like in this story but not - like that we just have this version of her we don't actually know and all of that grief and hurt surrounding her storyline. I love that she helped reader fight and reminded her to not carry that memory anymore 💛

Your version of Vickie and this story make me semi okay with her being a big part of season 5. May you secretly be a Duffer or the Duffers are wise enough to let you write with them.

You dove again and again, dives decreasing in length each time until you finally surfaced, gasping for air and screaming for someone to help, screaming for Steve, screaming at Vickie, at Vecna, at the world for doing this to you, and that’s when you found him.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline.

"Amanda, respectfully, I'll kill you" Taylor thought as tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she forced herself to keep reading.

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY?! I SAID I DIDNT LIKE THAT IMAGERY AND NOW HERE WE ARE HOLDING OUR LOVE IN OUR ARMS AND HE'S DEAD AND I AM ACTUALLY SOBBING I HATE YOU

You didn’t like the blue, cast across hard features like the frigid chill of a drowned man. You much preferred the warmth of sunshine pouring in through easterly windows. If you stayed long enough, you’d catch a glimpse of that, honeyed light caressing soft skin, tousling the golds in his hair.

Real life image of Taylor being like, yeah fuck you and your great writing DONT DO THIS TO ME AMANADA

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him.

“Hey, Harrington, you doing okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled against your cheek, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. He hadn’t stopped calling you that in months, and you delighted in the way his honeyed gaze lit up when he said it.

*insert that clip of Tyra asking who else was really scared*

JESUS CHRIST AMANADA

AND THEN HE CALLS US HARRINGTON?!

Wildfire • Inferno

The last march into the Ether is fraught with uncertainty. You stumble forward, partner and friends by your side.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains gore and horror, including character injury and allusions to character death. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Six: Combustion

---

THEN

May 1988

The woods sprawled forever, rows of monotonous chaos stretched to a sunless sky. You scrambled through, boots squelching in inexplicably moist soil as you toed over the twist of vines and fallen limbs. A shock of orange guided your way, a light in the greyscale abyss, just out of reach, dipping into underbrush and up the hillside.

You’d made this trek through dozens of times, the steady climb from Roane County Farms to Mary Hill Lane. Countless nights of your youth were spent feeding cows apples from your pockets and scurrying home before the sun crested its final valley.

You knew the resemblances were eery. The first time you’d stepped into this horrible place, the first time you felt the pull at your navel and the spin in your skull, you’d been nauseated by the carbon copy version of the town you called home. Grocery stores and public libraries crumbled beneath the weight of disembodied tentacles. City sidewalks crumbled beneath your feet. And even after all this time, after countless trips through the portal into the Hellscape, the similarities to your childhood never ceased to unsettle your stomach and itch like anxiety in your chest.

A different panic clawed there now, making the ascent more difficult. Your pack weighed you down, and your mask hung from your throat, lungs burning with strain and inhaling toxic air.

“Vickie!” You cried out for her again, your voice hoarse and cracked. A handful of mulch fell away to make room for your boot, and you pulled yourself up through the tree line and onto Mary Hill Lane.

The asphalt was torn up, a pot hole down the center of the little lane, right where they’d patched it that summer you turned 8. You used to take turns jumping it on your bikes. Once, Vickie hit the lip, and her frail little body went flying over the handlebars. You watched the blood ooze from her knobby knees in horror, and admitted delight, and helped her limp her bicycle two doors down to her house.

A wave of orange flickered in your periphery, and you steeled your breath. Two houses down, with pale yellow siding and a metal storm door, was your best friend’s childhood home. It hadn’t changed since her family moved to the little neighboring town of Hawkins. The tree out front was a little taller, the grass a little sparser, and of course the entire facade was succumbing to the overgrowth of demonic vines that curled and whipped beneath the shutters and peeled back the roofing tiles.

There was a residual off to the Ether, the dip in your stomach that never left once you’d crossed the gaping maw threshold, but now, staring up at a home you grew up in, the off settled into your ribcage like a bad breakfast. “Vickie,” you whispered, following your feet to her driveway. “What the Hell are you thinking?”

You reached over your shoulder to remove the flamethrower from its holster. Your hands shook around the cold metal. You tried to even out your breathing, panic clinging like condensation to your neck.

Bang! Something large smacked against the garage door, rattling the whole thing on its hinges.

You scrambled backwards, foot slipping on a rogue bit of gravel. You gasped, catching your fall before you heard another loud thwack to the door.

Then you saw her. Grimy, fogged glass lined one of the garage panels, through which you caught the terrified look of your best friend, a shock of orange and pale skin.

You called out to her, ran to the door, smacked your fingers against the glass.

“No,” she shook her head, slamming her hands into the other side of the wall. “Get out of here! Run!”

“Vick? What’s going on?” You shook your head. “Are you trapped? Stand back, I’m going to torch it.” You squared up, readjusting the trigger behind your forefinger.

“No!” She cried out again. “You don’t understand. You need to run.”

“Is there something in there?” You asked, trying to peer between her and a stack of boxes to look within the confines of the garage.

“Yes.” She said. “Me.”

She disappeared for a moment before she lifted the garage door, one strong push to expose herself and the rotting boxes abandoned beside her.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” You growled, dropping the weapon to your side.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” she said, stance square. There was something in her eye that tickled at the base of your skull, sent a shiver down your spine.

“Vic?”

“Really, your friend held on for so long. She really tried to fight. The two of you had years of good memories for me to lose her in.”

Years of training stalled your reaction, running through your mind in reverse, hours spent on the Scorch course echoing in your skull. You raised your weapon again, and her name left your throat in a whisper.

“You wouldn’t burn sweet, innocent Vickie would you?” She took wide strides your direction, hands in the pockets of her pants. “Not here. Remember when we called this place home. You and I?”

You scrambled for the walkie on your shoulder, hands trembling. “Team Lead to Scorch team, requesting emergency evac.”

“Yes, yes, bring in the troops,” she smirked, something miserable and uncanny, something so un-her.

Steve’s voice echoed through the speaker, startling you. “Where are you?”

“Roane County, Mary Hill Lane. Quarantine required.”

“Her old house? Is Vickie okay? Vickie?” Robin’s voice called out before Steve cut her off.

“Copy that. We’re on our way.”

“R-Robin?” Vickie’s voice broke, and you noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Her teeth were grit, fists clenched and shaking at her sides.

You caught her gaze, eyes filled with terror, and took a few steps closer.

“NO!” She cried out, holding a hand up to stop you. Tears welled in her eyes, spilled over, tracked through the ash on freckled cheeks. She whispered your name, bottom lip trembling beneath her two front teeth. “You have to do it.”

“Vickie, no. Just hold on. Steve and Robin will be there soon. We’ll take you back and -”

“It’s too late,” her voice cracked. “He’s in here, and I can’t hold him back much longer. You know I love you, right?”

“Vickie, stop it.” You shook your head, tasting salt. You didn’t realize you’d started crying as well.

“Please?”

You shook your head again, obstinate, every bit of you fighting the pleading look in her eyes, fighting the sad smile on her face, fighting the way she said your name.

—

NOW

October 1988

Your blindfold was made of wool, something thick and itchy against your nose and the tips of your ears. You scratched at it, exposing a sliver of light, and you hand was promptly snatched away.

“Will you stop that?” Steve huffed, voice a warm rumble to your left year.

“I’m not going to take it off,” you grumbled.

Your anxiety had peaked the moment he put it on, relieved only temporarily when he pressed his lips against yours. Then, you were promptly carted down the clanging elevator and shoved past a sea of whispers until a heavy steel door was opened, and brisk autumn air caressed your cheeks.

The familiar rumble of a truck bed chattered your bones, knees knocking against various others’. You sat in silence, sensing a handful of watchful eyes. You were desperate to ignore the gnawing at your brainstem, the villain clawing himself to the surface, desperate for air, for a hint. You focused, instead, on your breathing, on the warmth of Steve’s hand in your own, of the buzz in your fingertips and the weight of something that had been strapped to your back.

Steve’s grip tightened as you came rolling to a halt. Engines idled. The smell of diesel fuel burned at your nostrils. Your stomach churned.

Your partner pulled you upright with a strong hand beneath your armpit, and you teetered on your feet as the balance shifted with each body that jumped from the bed to the dusty ground below.

“Wait here,” he muttered, and then released your hand.

Panic curled into your organs. You reached out for him again, listening for the fall of his feet. Cold replaced him beside you. The ground shifting beneath you. You extended your toe until it hit something, a wheel-well, by the sound of it, maybe a tailgate.

A hand found yours again and pulled you to the cool metal. The machine trembled beneath your clammy fingertips.

“Sit here, swing your legs over. I’m going to catch you, okay?”

“I don’t need to be caught,” you scoffed, though you followed instructions, feet dangling over the bed’s ledge until you slid into Harrington’s strong grip.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, gentling setting your feet to pavement.

You shoved at his chest, and promptly chased him until his hand slipped firmly into yours again.

“Dudes!” A familiar voice called from not-too-far away, and you felt yourself led toward them.

A fist tapped your shoulder, and the sickly sweet smell of marijuana filled your senses.

“Argyle?” You smiled.

“You got it, dude.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, remember that time we played those pranks on Munson?”

The levity of his sentiment didn’t match the intensity of the situation you were all stepping into, and it caught you off guard. Your memory strained to strum up images of hiding Eddie’s notebook and replacing it with a replica you and Argyle had doodled crude images in. That felt a lifetime ago, when you were all just kids caught up in a war you didn’t understand.

“Well, that gave me the idea to doodle a dick on the dragon on his new notebook.” Argyle spoke it like a confession, whispered to you from around your veil, words muffled by the thick fabric.

You crinkled your nose. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he barked out a laugh. “So you’ll have to come back to see the look on his face when he sees it.”

The fear that had settled like a pit in your gut fluttered a little, a glimmer of a heartbeat added to the future you weren’t certain you’d have.

“Deal,” you choked out, and you felt a hand reach into yours to shake on it.

“Harrington!” Someone yelled from a few yards away, and you free hand was tugged with careful instructions to follow. You bid Argyle goodbye and stumbled after Steve, slow steps dragged along dusty streets.

You couldn’t tell the direction, though something deep in you longed for them. Something wondered if you could peer beneath the blindfold and make out a location based on the stones you kicked along with the steel toes of your boots. Something sensed the wind caressing your cheeks, your chest, wondered if it blew in an Easterly direction.

Another warm body pulled up beside you, blocking the wind. Your shoulders fell in gratitude. You hadn’t realized you’d hiked them up.

“Mind if I lean on you?” Byers muttered, wrapping a soft hand against the crook of your elbow.

You shook your head and accommodated for his weight. You noticed a limp in the sound of his walk, slowed your gait to match his. Another spring of panic fluttered at your chest. “No offense, Jonathan, but… should you be going on this mission? How’s your leg?” You squeezed Steve’s hand on your other side.

He squeezed back.

“Remember that day we took bets on the mats? The one where you wiped the floor with Harrington?”

“Alright,” Steve huffed on your other side.

You snickered, remembering the flow of cash into the hands of your best friends. High fives were exchanged. Munson had set up a hydration station in your corner to fan you off between rounds.

“I won like five hundred bucks thanks to you, you know?” Byers spoke softly beside you, breath a little labored.

“Oh yeah?” You swallowed back a lump. “Sounds like a deserve a cut of that.”

He laughed at that, Steve too. “Yeah, you do. Here’s the deal. You kick major ass in there, I’ll give you three hundred.”

“Double or nothing?” Steve said over your head.

“Deal,” Jonathan chuckled and squeezed again at the meat of your bicep. “What do you say?”

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Your voice sounded hoarse. When Jonathan released you, you nearly halted your walk to stay with him, but Steve tugged you along with a firm grip, and you stayed in line with the footfall all around you.

You kept your eyes squeezed closed, resisting the temptation to gain some sort of bearing. You thought of Argyle’s doodles and Byers the bookie and tried to push back the emotion clawing to escape you.

Then you felt it, the pull. You’d felt it before, dozens of times, that warped tug of gravity that started from behind your navel and led you onwards and upside downwards. It had to be close. You felt the pulse of a gaping maw as if it were your own, the steady thrum-thrum of a heartbeat. Or two heartbeats, in tandem to the pulse you felt in Steve’s wrist against your own. Or three heartbeats, the rhythm of dozens of soldiers falling into line.

A familiar voice called your name from up ahead, and you heard the stamping of feet as someone approached, others moving out of their way. “Hey,” Wheeler breathed. “Have you figured out what we’re doing yet?”

You couldn’t respond, overcome with emotion and terror, that call of the Ether drawing you closer with each step.

Nancy fell in sync beside you. “Remember our first run in the Scorch course? Me, you, Vickie, Robin?”

You remembered being terrified at the prospect of setting monsters ablaze. You remembered spying an intimate “good luck” between Steve and Nancy before she went in with you. You remembered Vickie and Robin exchanging nervous smiles. You remembered sweaty palms around a weapon you’d never used, and you remembered the heat that licked at your skin.

“We did it in record time, and they were still extinguishing three hours later.”

“Nancy, I…” You weren’t sure what to say, exactly, couldn’t understand the meaning.

“Us girls have to stick together.” She stuck a bony elbow to your side, then she shouted. “Ready? Let’s go. Battle stations, everyone. You know what to do.”

You heard the unsettling squelch of vines, the clearing of a membrane from the jaws of the gate, and the tug of your arm halted you. “Steve?” You muttered. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going in,” his breath was warm against your ear, and he brought your hand to his chest. His heartbeat was rapid, racing your own to the finish line you couldn’t see, couldn’t fathom.

Your mouth was dry. Things within you battled: the urge to turn heel and run and the urge to go diving headfirst into the Ether, into the frigid embrace.

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt.

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Steve, are we ready?” Nancy called from several feet away, voice drowned by the thundering in your ears.

“You have to fight him, okay? I promise I will protect you, but you have to promise me you’ll fight back, that you won’t give up. Do you promise me?” He was holding your face now, large hands on either cheek, and you longed to see his brown eyes again, that furrow between his brow.

“I promise,” you nodded, and his lips were against yours, hot and soft, and then they weren’t, and you were chasing for his touch.

He hooked something into your belt, and you felt cold plastic, with a long cord attached. “Whatever you do, don’t take your blindfold off, or these,” he tugged headphones over your head, the foam around the ears amplifying the pounding of your heart. “I will stay as close to you as I can, but you just need to trust that I’ll be there to protect you. Are you ready?”

Again, the opposing forces within you pulled in separate directions. All at once, your senses will filled with pop music and panic that you had to swallow back as Steve took you by the hand and led you once more toward the door between worlds.

—

The Ether smelled damp, like mildew, the rotting flesh of vegetation left to spoil. It tasted of ash and ruin. Static lingered in the air, clung clothes to your skin. The music in your ears was muffled, somehow, like there was too much room for sound waves to travel, so they thinned out and became tinny. The blindfold itched at your nose, and you stood alone, cold, in a void.

You tried to focus on the happy memories your friends had presented to you, but with every chill that wracked through you, all you thought of was her.

That shock of orange had been extinguished, had vanished into the grime of this Earth, had smoked out. Happy memories of her turned to ash at your fingertips, laughter to choked screams.

Then, you smelled gasoline, sweet and strong. You were used to the fumes, that chemical after burn with each torch of the flamethrower, but this was stronger. This stung at your nostrils, made your mouth water. You took a few steps forward to ensure you hadn’t stepped in it and were waiting for someone to light a match.

You felt dizzy with it, that wobble as you walked. You called out for Steve, unable to hear your own voice though the music. You received no response, felt no tug on your arm, no warm hand to your waist. You were only cold, and you were all alone.

He’d left you. He made a promise he couldn’t keep, just like Vickie had, and you supposed like you had to them.

Then came the rumble, that slow wave of nausea that drifted from far-off, from mountain tops and Great Lakes, that cosmic sway of land that chattered your teeth and sent you off-kilter, to your knees. You caught yourself on a hand, feeling the snap of your wrist beneath your weight as the Earth continued to rock beneath you. You cried out, though you couldn’t hear it over shrill music.

Then you felt it, the searing agony of torched vines, every vein and nerve ending ablaze, punching the air from your lungs. Screams rippled through you, not yours but the screams of others, of them, agonizing, writhing in horror, screams from gaping mouths with rows and rows of jagged teeth, and you were them and they were you, and you felt it all.

You thought you might rip in two from the pain, maybe you already had, and you lie prone against a cold, hard ground, willing your body to push it away. Everything in you scorched, and everything in you begging to fight. How could you fight fire? How could you fight an unseen force?

Desperate for air, you ripped your blindfold from your face and stared up into a storm-filled sky. Bright red lightning flashed inside a black, billowing cloud. Your eyes ached at the orange glow, and when you turned your head, you came face-to-face with an entire forest ablaze.

It caught like wildfire, an inferno that scorched the Earth. Beautiful bright whites and yellows, oranges and reds painted the night sky, casting the forest in silhouette as limbs groaned and trees crashed down upon an army of soldiers.

You sucked in a breath, sputtering to the sand as you rolled over to gain your footing. Your wrist cried out under your weight, but your vision had shifted again.

It was as though you ran through the woods, double time, rushing to escape the fire. It was as though you flew through smoke filled skies. Your targets wore tactical attire and carried flamethrowers on their backs, and millions of teeth sunk into them, filling your mouth with the taste of their blood.

Something found your ankle, a thick vine that wrapped itself there and pulled until you slammed back into the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut and kicked at it until you felt the satisfying squelch, the burst of ice cold liquid, and you scrambled away until another could find you.

Then your eyes were on him: Steve torching the wood. His face was tanned, dripping with sweat and grime. He picked up a barrel and threw it into the trees, shielding his face from the explosion as Nancy cocked her rifle and hit her target. Only, you were looking at Steve from an odd angle, and you reached out a clawed hand toward him.

“Steve!” You cried out, but it was too late. The demogorgon’s claws pulled through his chest to the bone.

Nancy fired rounds into the creature until it had backed into a truck. From there, it was blown to pieces.

You watched them now, from a few yards away, unable to lift yourself from the ground. She tended his wounds, and he staggered, glancing your direction. Tears stung in your eyes. Somewhere nearby, a song echoed through tattered headphones. Behind your eyelids, allies were being ripped open, guts spilling to the forest floor, but the fire raged on.

—

The pain subsided, and all was numb and black and void.

You sat at a desk, sunlight filtering in through a window overlooking the woods. You had a pencil in one hand. Times tables were etched into the paper in front of you. The lines of the numbers flipped and blurred, and you stuffed your tongue between your teeth in frustration. God, you were so stupid.

Your mother called from down the hall. Dinnertime.

You set your pencil down, and it rolled across the desk top before halting against a terrarium.

You stood and stretched, rubbed at bleary eyes. You pulled your sweater from the back of your chair and swung it over bare shoulders.

You crossed to your door, traced the wallpaper in your hallway with fingertips like you did every evening.

Dad’s chair was empty as you passed the living room. The television played something dull and quiet, reruns.

You rounded to the dining room, table stacked with food for two. Dad must be on another work trip.

Light filtered in through the sliding glass door. Winter had just begun. The leaves had all browned and fallen. The trees stood like soldiers, all limbs and armor.

You took your seat at the table and sipped the carbonation from your soda. The bubbles fizzed at your nose, and you itched at it before dumping a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes to your plate.

A slam at the glass door startled you, and you looked up to find Vickie. She looked different, old and grizzled. Her jaw was sharper, the muscles in her arms more defined. She rolled her eyes and peeled the door open. It rolled on its track, and she let herself in.

“This is where he’s keeping you?”

“Wh-what?” You blinked back at her, wondering if the times tables had messed with your head.

“Vecna, come on, idiot. You’re flayed. He’s got you by the strings, and he holed you up in the third grade for some reason. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?”

Her words processed like sludge, letters mixing and swapping like they had on the page.

She leaned over to dip her finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes. She tasted it and blanched, spewing the soft white back onto your plate. “Jesus, there are some tricks he really can’t master. Now come on, we don’t have much time. You need to snap out of this.”

She tugged at your wrist, and you cried out, a sharp pain zipping through you. You stared down at the tender and bruising limb.

“That’s a good start,” she nodded. She glanced out at the backyard, forehead creasing in thought before clicking her fingers together. “Quick, think about Steve.”

“Who?” You winced, nursing the dull ache in your wrist with a gentle touch.

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.”

“What?” Everything felt fuzzy, a slog of jumbled words that fell from soft lips and onto deaf ears. You hadn’t remember Mom giving you cough syrup, but perhaps you had a cold.

With a groan, Vickie grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you from your seat. She shook you a little. “Come on, damnit, remember. You aren’t here in your mom’s kitchen, you’re in the Ether. The Scorch Team is blowing it up. A demogorgon got Steve, and I have a feeling he’s going to die if you don’t snap out of this.”

“Steve?”

You saw a flash of him staggering toward you, Kevlar shredded, blood tainting the inner corners of his perfect lips.

“Steve!” You cried out, but you were back in the dining room. The breaker had been flipped, everything dark, everything caked in a layer of rot and decay. Everything but Vickie.

“Nicely done,” she grinned, yanking at the sliding glass door. “Let’s get out of here!”

You didn’t hesitate to follow, staring up at the sky scapes of your mind as they began to implode. The woods beyond turned to the craggy, rocky shores of your grandmother’s beach house, and as you stepped through the bog water that had filled your backyard, everything turned to concrete and asphalt and tar.

“Yeah, this’ll do,” Vickie’s sneakers slapped against the tarmac as she ran toward the compound.

You took off after her, wind sweeping at you like wispy tendrils, desperate to hold you in place. “What do we do now? How do we trap him?”

“I don’t think we do,” she responded. “It’s kind of like a lucid dream. You’re in charge in here. We just have to get rid of all the places he can hide.” She bypassed a passcode to unlock a familiar steel door and held it open for you to go inside.

You entered the small hallway, floor-to-ceiling munitions lockers. “And how do we do that?”

“Well,” one locker opened with a creak, “they’re blowing his shit up on the outside. Maybe it’s time to turn the heat up in here, too.” She reached in and procured a flamethrower.

—

You scorched the Earth. You set fire to the Roan River bed where Vickie had tumbled. You set fire to the little covered bridge and all the horrors that lay within. You set fire to the little farmhouse where you lost her. You set fire to the woods that surrounded your childhood home, to the little fenced in backyard, the rope and plank that swung from the oak down the street. You torched the roof and watched it crumble inward over mashed potatoes and the tv turned to static in the corner. You watched the pages of a times table curl and fall to dust.

“Making record time,” Vickie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder. “Just like Nancy said. Us girls really do make a good team.”

She turned from you and began to jog down the little lane, pack bouncing, light on her feet as though the world wasn’t crashing down around her.

When you didn’t follow, she turned, fire lighting her eyes, and gestured for you to join. “You coming or what?”

The flames made no sound as they consumed your house, a dreamscape of embers in reds and oranges and yellows to the ringing in your ears. The roof fell first, like the house that nearly ate Steve, and then the windows burst and the walls came next. As the fire spilled out across the front yard, chewing at tires and overtaking flowerbeds, you stumbled backwards to join Vickie in the lane.

“One last stop,” she promised, intertwining her fingers in your own.

“How do you know that’s enough?” You asked with a frown, wheezing a cough into your free hand. Your wrist ached, and the purpling bruise was beginning to crawl up your arm. Your chest felt tight, and the faster you ran, the harder it felt to breathe. The smell of gasoline filled your nostrils.

“We’re running out of time,” she smiled sadly and turned into the driveway of her own childhood home, the place you found her, the place you watched the life leave her eyes.

“Vickie,” you warned, screeching to a halt just at the end of the driveway, where concrete turned to rubble. Looking to your left, you saw the pothole. To the right, flames had spilled to the neighbor’s house.

“Don’t be a baby. This is his favorite place to hide. We have to make it uninhabitable.” She explained, stacking lawn furniture to a pile between the garage and house.

It was his favorite place to hide because it was your worst memory, the place you refused to go back to, the truths you kept hidden under lock and key.

Something went boom far in the distance. Your ears rang again, and they hurt. Something hot and wet splattered your right cheek. You reached up to find blood spilling from your ear. “Vickie!”

“Hurry!” She removed her pack, added it to the pile.

“What’re you doing?” You crossed the driveway as she opened a can of lighter fluid from beside the grill and began trailing it across the closed garage door. She splashed some onto her shoes. The cuffs of her pants were soaked in it. “Be careful!”

She looked up at you then, a sadness behind the mischief in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Don’t you get it? It’s me. He’s hiding himself in me. I’m the safe space for him. He knows you’ll never touch me. You’ll hide from him in the good memories: the pranks with Eddie, the bets with Jonathan, the sing-a-longs with Robin. He’ll hide from you here, with me.”

Another boom rocked the world around you in ripples. Scratches clawed themselves into your right side, your cheek, your chest, your arm as shrapnel lodged itself within your skin.

Vickie rushed to your side, wiped blood from your cheek with a thumb. “Hey, I love you, and I will always be with you in your heart and your good memories, but this?” She gestured to the pile of furniture, to the scorch mark in the drive. “You need to let this go.”

You wheezed another cough, violence that clawed at your insides, squeezing every drop from you.

“Go back to Steve. Get yourself out of this Hell hole, as far away as you can, you hear me? Get married, have a dozen babies. Follow your dreams. Live the life I didn’t get to. Promise me?” She touched her nose to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you managed, though tears blurred your vision and smoke choked at your lungs.

She kissed your forehead and took ten paces back, until her feet were touching the spilled can of fluid that had begun to weep down the driveway. “You promise?” She called.

You nodded, hands trembling as you lifted the flamethrower. “Promise.”

“Good,” her face lit with that mischievous grin, a smile of peace and of love, and she maintained it as the flames engulfed her.

—

Your ears rang, and your body thrummed, and every nerve in your body stood at attention. The smell of burning flesh and gasoline stung acrid in your nostrils. You blinked your eyes open, expecting the bright oranges of flames and finding only grey, only smoke, and then two big, brown eyes.

Steve came crashing into focus, and you pulled him into you with desperate hands. The side of his face was torn and bleeding. Thick, dark red spilled down his jaw and throat to gaping cuts across his chest and abdomen, but he was crouched over you, and he was mouthing something. No, maybe he was screaming.

He looked beyond you before he covered you with his body, and you felt the rain of something down on top the both of you.

After a long moment’s rest, you shoved at him, desperate to find his eyes again, and he sat up and looked around before he pulled you both to your feet.

The Ether was chaos all around you, a cloud of smoke and ash. Soldiers and monsters alike disappeared and reappeared through the cloud in flashes of thunder-less lightning and the splatter of blood.

You ducked into the crook of Steve’s arm and followed his lead as he ran, both of you a little wobbly, dodging vehicles and bodies.

He tripped over a vine, and you caught him under the arm, pulling him upright again so you could continue your journey. He stopped, peering around once more, shouting into the smoke cloud with a hand over his mouth until he was doubled over in a wheezing cough. You covered your own mouth with the crook of your elbow, but the smoke was too much, and the oxygen too small.

You threw yourself to the ground and pulled him too, breathing what air lie between particles of sand in the empty lake bed.

Steve lie beside you, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and defeat, and he leaned sideways to thumb blood from a stinging wound on your cheek.

That’s when you noticed the vines. Thick, black, oozing with ichor and something fouler smelling than the ash and smoke, these vines were reaching for something, crawling for air of their own.

You yanked on Steve’s sleeve and pointed to them, and the two of you crawled after the vines to the edge of a gaping wound in the sandbar.

The membrane had been popped and water bubbled below, steady waves that brought forth the prospect of life, of fresh air, of home.

Steve threaded his fingers through yours and nodded, spoke words you couldn’t hear. “I won’t let go.”

You nodded and took as deep a breath as you could muster before diving headfirst through the portal to the waters below.

—

Righting yourself felt different without gravity, the weightless tug of your body that begged to be back on the other side, back where up was up and down was down. But here? In the void of frigid cold and screaming wounds, of empty lungs? Your body and your brain couldn’t comprehend anything but out and now.

Steve’s hand remained in yours, though you couldn’t see past the blur of dark and sting in your eyes. So you just kicked and pulled at the space around you, weightless and yet too heavy all at once.

Something wrapped itself around your ankle, but you just kept kicking, feet as paddles and anchors.

You wrist ached, the numbing pull of something as Steve tried to yank you upward, and then you felt his arm around your waist and then your knee, and he was fighting something off, and then nothing. Then he was gone and his warmth and his weight, and your body was surging you upwards and outwards and now as fast as you can.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your lungs screamed and your soul ached and your heart hurt, but when you burst through that surface and through your head back and filled your lungs at least that was right again.

You slapped your hands to the surface in an effort to stay afloat, and you gasped and sputtered and took in the fresh, clean air.

Starlight glinted above you, miles and miles upward, not shying beyond clouded skies. God, you’d missed them.

You floated for a moment, on your back, body screaming for rest, exhausted, eyes drifting closed while you drifted like a log on the water’s surface. Alone and weightless, but free and alive and alone.

Alone. You sputtered, coughed out water that spilled in through your nostrils, and when it had cleared, you looked frantically around you for Steve.

Your distress caused ripples in the water, ripples in reflected starlight, ripples alone.

You took a deep breath, weak, lungs pained, and dove. Your eyes stung and the darkness filled everything below the surface, so you reached out with frantic arms until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and your body rocketed you back up for another gasp of air.

You cried out for Steve, a wheezing sound that had you coughing again. Your teeth chattered. You could barely hear your own voice above the ringing in your ear.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline.

You swam to him, one stroke at a time, aching legs kicking until the tips of your fingers met the back of his head, and you turned him to face you. Liquid poured from his open mouth, the sweet curve of his lips.

You pulled him under your arm and dug in hard to the silt and soil, pulling him up and over the banks where cattails bloomed and crickets chirped. You pulled yourself up too, both of your bodies scraping the sand.

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

You ripped open what was left of his shirt, bits of material sticking to his shredded skin. You held back a cry and interlaced your fingers. Your wrist screamed, bruising crawling to your elbow. Gingerly, the palm of your hands found his sternum, and you began compressions.

“You have to stay with me because I love you, and I can’t do this without you.” You tried to keep time to the adrenaline thundering your heartbeat in your skull.

More liquid spilled from his lips.

“No!” You cried out. “Stay with me. Damnit, Harrington!”

You clenched your jaw until something snapped, a tooth, maybe his ribs, maybe your arm, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop.

—

Your throat was so dry, a swallow that burned down your esophagus like sand paper. Your insides smarted with it. Everything was red, too bright, vicious like wildfire. You winced, turned your face to shield yourself from the light.

The beeping got louder, a steady rhythm that matched the thump-thump of your heart in your skull only fuzzier, dials turned down, a bit of static ebbing and flowing like waves, a current.

Then you heard a mumble, or at least, it sounded like a voice. No, two voices muttered to one another from over top of you, one louder, clearer, the other soft, strangled, too-far away.

“Have you been here all night?”

“If they try to pull me away from this bedside, I’ll kill them.”

“Have they woken up yet?”

“Not yet. No one can tell me if that’s good or bad. Do medical charts make sense to you?”

“Let me see.”

Something clattered beside you, too close to your head, and your reflexes startled your eyes open. You winced to find everything was no longer red, but stark white and too bright, and your eyelids were crusted over and burned. You groaned and shielded them with a hand wrapped in gauze.

“Holy shit,” someone spoke your name.

“Should we call the nurse?”

“Hold on a second. Sweetheart, are you awake? It’s me, Eddie.” A soft hand reached for yours to pull it from your eyes. “Hit the lights, will ya?”

Stark white dulled to softer blues and grays, and you lowered your hand from your face. Your eyes adjusted, room and faces blurred until the sweet, sad face of your best friend came into focus.

Munson smiled back at you, hair swept back over his shoulders, black t-shirt hugging his chest. His body was pressed to yours, butt pinching the wires that were jabbed into your hand and the crook of your elbow. “Bet those drugs are feeling really nice right now, huh?”

His voice was sweet and low, like molasses, and it buzzed through you warm and soft. You hummed, but the dryness in your throat cracked until you coughed and sputtered and gasped.

“Okay, I’m calling the nurse.”

“You want some water?” Eddie scrambled, snapping his fingers at something on the other side of you, and you turned your head to find Robin with a clipboard under one arm, frantically pushing a large, red button that hung on a cord beside you.

You tried to say her name, but once again the wheezing and sputtering halted your attempt, so you reached for her instead.

“Water? Yeah, here,” her voice trembled, and her hand as she lifted a large plastic cup from the bedside table and held the straw to your lips. She looked scared, frantic, and tears brimmed in her big, blue eyes.

“I got it,” Eddie took it from her, holding the straw steady for you to drink.

The cold water soothed your throat, and your eyes closed in the relief. You were exhausted. Your entire body sunk further into the soft cloud you laid upon and wanted to stay there.

“What’s going on in here?”

“You fall back asleep on us?” You felt the rumble of Eddie’s chuckle, and the tug of a smile played on your lips.

You peaked one eye back open, and the nurse who stood in the doorway dropped her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “Well, good morning, sunshine. How’re you feeling? Don’t talk, but give me a thumbs up or thumbs down.” She pushed into Robin’s space to jiggle the tubes attached to you.

You managed a thumbs up, the world still a little fuzzy around the edges.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, I bet you’re feeling good.”

“Your vitals are looking good, but you should probably rest. It’s the fastest way your body can heal.”

Yeah, rest sounded lovely. You nodded and closed your eye again, sinking farther into the warm cloud embracing you.

“I’m going to go check on Nance,” Robin muttered from beside you. “You going to stay here?”

“Try and stop me,” Eddie said, and it pulled another smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

—

Seventeen gates had sealed themselves over night, leaving naught but severed vines and wet patches of pavement. Bits of equipment and body parts slowly began to wash up on shore, but when the lake beds were dragged, no gates had been found.

Your drug-induced dreams had been void of smoke and screams, void of ash and ruin, void of that shock of orange and the chill in your spine.

You’d gotten to your feet faster than any of your comrades, despite being one of the last living recovered by the Evac team. You joked about your competitive nature through wheezed coughs behind your cast.

You and Munson raced walkers down hallways. Much to your chagrin, he let you win.

Weaning off the drugs, your body ached, bones stiff. The stitches around your cheekbone and shoulder and hip itched something fierce. Your voice came back after a few days, scratchy and raw, but your hearing never returned on that right side.

You begged Eddie to read you the novel he’d been writing every night as you drifted off to sleep. You played card games with Jonathan and Argyle during the days, stuffing aces into the bright blue plaster of your bandaged arm.

Hopper visited when he could, cursing at a nurse under his breath when she came in to tell him to put out his cigarette. He did so in your abandoned jell-o cup, and before he left, he squeezed the fingers of your hand and said, “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Nancy’s recovery came along quickly, always two steps ahead, and you spent evenings distracting her while her bandages were changed. Burns covered half of her slender frame, but she grit her teeth through the agony. You helped her to her feet when she asked and held her hand to the bathroom and back to her bed.

Robin came bearing gifts smuggled from the outside, warm socks and soda in glass bottles, a record player and later, hummed tunes. She tried to teach you French one night, Russian another, and if she hadn’t fallen asleep at Nancy’s bedside, she was slumped onto Eddie’s shoulder, the two of them wide-mouthed, snoring out-of-sync.

Some such nights, you’d sneak out, carrying your IV so the wheels didn’t squeak, the pads of your feet cold against stark white linoleum. You’d bypass the common room, illuminated by the vibrant colors of candy wrappers from a vending machine, and tiptoe down the hall past the nurse’s station. You’d slip into a room two doors down, on the left, masked under the faint blue glow of a heart monitor and sidle up beside the patient there.

You glanced at his heart rate on the monitor, the steady but slow rise and fall, and then you slipped your fingers to the pulse point on his wrist to double check. “Harrington, I’m always saving your ass, aren’t I?” You tutted.

You tugged his torso to warm exposed shoulders, careful not to drag the material against the plane of his chest, where skin had been grafted together with vicious knots of needle and thread.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, taking solace in the warmth of life, and swept hair from the wrinkle in his brow.

You pulled up a chair and tucked your hand into his, resting your elbows and head beside the dip of his thighs, listening to the subtle beat of his heart until your eyelids felt heavy and your rhythms matched with his.

—

May 1990

Sunlight dappled the landscape in pale yellows and vibrant greens, pouring in from between the limbs of trees and spilling onto the grass like paint to a canvas. A breeze brew through, sweet florals on the wind. You helped it sweep fallen, wilted petals and debris from letters carved into stone. A petrified bouquet was replaced with a fresh one, and you primped rose petals and wiped lily pollen off on a pant leg.

Robin crouched beside you, freckled nose red and eyes bleary. She kissed a beaded bracelet before wrapping it around the little vase with the others like it.

You stood before her, helping her up by the hand, and both of you kissed your fingertips and placed them to the tip top of the headstone.

“You ready?” You muttered, giving her hand a squeeze.

She sniffled, nodded, and you began your trek up the dappled hill toward the parked car.

“Give a kiss for me too?” Eddie asked as you approached, frown etched between his brows. You sunk into his embrace, buried your face in the warmth of his throat. He smelled of the cigarette he’d stamped out on the asphalt.

“Always,” Robin muttered into his other shoulder, burying herself there too.

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him.

You swatted at his middle, fighting back the grin that tugged on the corners of your lips. “I’m changing my name back,” you argued.

He hummed a protest, rocking you back and forth, large hands tracing circles of comfort up and down the length of your spine. He felt safe, a tall drink of relief, calm tides after a storm.

“Well, I think I’m ready for brisket,” Eddie clapped Steve’s shoulder, and you reluctantly peeled yourself from your husband’s embrace to help your friend into the back seat.

Robin rounded the car to join him, and you accepted Steve’s sweet kiss to your temple before he climbed in behind the wheel.

With a sigh, you turned to cast one last look down the hill at Vickie’s grave. Light poured down sweet and soft. This place had never felt like her, a disconnect between the girl you knew and loved and the monument for soldiers fallen.

“Steve,” you turned to see him, big brown eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can we make one stop first?”

“Of course.”

—

The new owners painted it blue, still pale, but it matched the sky now. The garage door had been painted stark white like fluffy clouds, and a mini van was parked out front. Toys and bicycles spilled out onto the yard like it had when you were young. Someone paved over the pothole in the lane.

“Want me to come with you?” Steve mumbled, fingertips to your wrist as you opened the passenger side door. You noticed his glance in the rearview.

You shook your head. “I’ll only be a second.”

The wind ruffled the trees, forest curving downhill toward farmland and beyond, but you turned your back to the trees and took cautious steps up the driveway to the garage door. Two daisies had been chalked beside a hopscotch course.

You closed your eyes and breathed in all of the memories from childhood: running back and forth from your house to hers, her incessant humming, the sound of her laughter, dancing in circles in a thunder storm, the feeling of her slender fingers between your own, her nose to yours.

With a smile, you opened your eyes again and turned to go back to Steve’s idling car. That’s when you saw it, a shock of orange out of your periphery that ducked between slats on the porch and flew directly at you.

Your breath caught in your throat, anxiety clawing at your chest, when you felt the wrap of tiny limbs around your knees, knocking them together.

“Baby, what are you…? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Honey, let go!” A woman launched herself from the front door.

You looked down to find a child, no older than three, with bright red hair and a toothy grin etched upon freckled features. You smiled back, tears welling in your eyes, and patted her little head. “Hi, sweetie,” you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry. We just learned what hugging is,” the little girl’s mother reached for her pudgy little hand to pry her off of your legs.

“Oh no, she’s okay,” you let out a wet laugh.

“Thank you,” the woman huffed. “Can I help you with something?”

You waved her away. “Oh no, my um… my friend used to live here, before the Earthquake. I came to check in on the place. We um… we used to play hopscotch just like this.” You fumbled for a reason to be stood there, in this stranger’s driveway.

“Oh, I see,” the woman’s face fell in understanding. “Would you like to come in? I might have lemonade.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled at the girl in her arms. “Your little one gave me just what I needed. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Bye-bye!” The girl waved before hiding, shy, in her mother’s hair.

“Bye.” Emotion swelled with a lump in your throat, but you turned to find that wash of relief in your partner, who stood, leaning over the hood of his car, knowing smile stretched across handsome features.

He waved at the mother and daughter behind you and waited until you were safely inside before getting back in himself. A large hand came to squeeze at your knee, two others squeezed your shoulders from the backseat.

“That baby was pretty cute,” Steve mumbled from his seat, shifting his car into gear to start rolling again.

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting the groans of your best friends fade into the background as you watched the colors of your childhood roll on by.

---

[[A/N: And here we come to the End. I'm a bit emotional here, and would like to, if I may, wax a bit about how much this story means to me.

I haven't written a story this long (haven't finished a story like this) since November of 2019. Like most of us, 2020 took a toll on my mental health, my physical health, my self-esteem, my confidence as a writer, and I think this year, with your help, I'm slowly gaining that confidence back. This story really proved to me that if I put myself into it, my values, my fears, if I truly tie myself to a piece of work, I can do it again.

Wildfire will always be my baby, my favorite, the reader and Harrington and Vickie and all of them mean so much to me, much more than even I know, I'm sure. And I really want to thank all of you for sticking along for the ride with me. I'll never be able to express just how much your words of encouragement have meant. So thank you, so so much, for reading xo]]

#steve harrington can get it anytime anywhere #especially enemies to lovers steve #especially wildfire steve #steve harrington series #wildfire series

131 notes · View notes

rhcenyra · 4 years ago

Photo

THE HANDMAID’S TALE ⇢ 3x12 | SACRIFICE

#i screamed when he said this!! i was really holding my breath the entire season bc i was so used to NOTHING good ever happening hdfhdsf #thtedit #the handmaid's tale #handmaidsonhulu #tht #thehandmaidstaleedit #handmaidstaleedit #3x12 #tht 3x12 #june osborne #commander lawrence #mygifs #mygifsets #myedits #dailyfilmtvgifs #tvgifs #tvedit

204 notes · View notes

gucciwins · 2 years ago

Text

a talk show and a surprise

word count: 1827

a/n: okay, don’t know if you’ve seen haley lu richardson being surprised by nick jonas on FaceTime during an interview and it gave me this idea, and it’s something short and sweet i hope you enjoy, mis amores

_____

Talk shows were not your specialty, in your opinion. It felt weird talking to a host and having a live audience told to react at different cues. After appearing in the second season of The White Lotus, there was promo to do as expected. Still, there was a new population of fans following your Instagram tripling your following weeks since the show premiered. Your content was being shared as fans deemed you “real” for posting after-running selfies, photos of you cuddling your parent’s corgi they got after all their children left home. Their favorite was a video of you crying on your living room floor to “fine line” as it played on your record player.

It’s a video that managed to be shared thousands of times. To top it off, your best friend decided to offer them a new treat by posting a video of you at Harry’s Wembley show, happily dancing in the rain. The video ended with you pointing to the stage, screaming that you loved Harry Styles. You were obviously a fan, but your paths never crossed, not that you were surprised you still felt like you were getting your footing on what stardom meant. While Harry literally had the entire world charmed.

Bee assured you it would be fine; a few questions, a few stories, and it would be over. She prepared you for the mention of Harry because hosts loved the views and a good clickbait. It wasn’t your first time and would definitely not be your last. Jimmy Fallon was an angel, and you would be fine.

“Welcome our guest for the night, Y/N Y/LN.”

You walk out dressed in a beautiful black velvet mini dress. It features a lace bib with scalloped trim, diamonte piping, and satin bows. It had a flowing mini-length skirt with romantic blouson sleeves. You loved it from the moment you put it on and knew the crowd would eat it up as well.

Jimmy welcomed you with a hug and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. “It’s great to have you here, Y/N.”

“Well, thanks for having me.”

Jimmy laughs going on to share about your past works and how you are a well-loved guest on the show.

“White Lotus is just amazing. You’re an absolute stand-out.”

You laugh, trying not to get too flustered as the audience cheers loudly for you. “Thank you. I have had the absolute best time. There’s nothing better than getting to film with Aubrey Plaza and Jennifer Coolidge.”

“While in Italy,” Jimmy adds on.

“The cherry on top.”

Jimmy leans closer, “now tell me, were you even a little bit nervous.”

“Oh, I was a mess. I was sure they cast the wrong person, but Bee, my manager, assured me that they thought I was the perfect fit.” You shared thinking back to when you first heard you got the role.

“Heard Aubrey Plaza got you a gift.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he brings out a photo of you with a signed headshot of Aubrey. “A little birdy told her I was a fan. There was a note that said: Now you don’t have to be nervous around me.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s framed in my house.” You share. Not at all lying. “The cast was so welcoming. There was not one bad day. Aubrey really took me under her wing, and yeah, one of my best experiences ever.”

Jimmy holds a hand over his heart, “that’s amazing to hear. It can be seen through the show, so if you haven’t watched it, you can head over to HBO Max and watch the talented Miss Y/N Y/N and the rest of the cast. We’ll be right back.”

After a short break you spent with Jimmy laughing and having your lipstick touched up, the cameras were ready to roll.

“Now, Y/N, I was told you love concerts.”

You nod, “I live and breathe them, Jimmy.”

“Who have you seen recently?”

“Oh too many, my good friend Phoebe Bridgers, Haim, oh Wolf Alice was wonderful recently in Los Angeles. My social media is a surface level of the few I’ve gone to this year. I drag my friends to different shows all the time. They love it. It’s the easiest place to fall undetected. At least I don’t think I’m famous enough to be recognized,” you joke, knowing it’s relatively easy to blend in a crowd when you are not the main star.

“Come on now, all these fans in the audience would say otherwise.”

The chant for you is loud, and you take a moment to take it all in. You’re quick to undermine your talent, but it’s clear that you have an audience that loves you.

“Now, what do you have to say about that?” Jimmy smiles, sensing how the cheers made you tuck into yourself for a moment before you began to blow kisses to the fans, thanking them endlessly.

“It’s surreal. Something I definitely don’t take for granted.”

The interview has been moving on smoothly, Jimmy asking you questions about the show and a few about your childhood. You're thankful he doesn’t have new childhood pictures of you to show. Your mother does that proudly on her Instagram.

“Now, you know we have to talk about this viral video of you.”

“Oh no,” you gasp.

Jimmy and you turn to look at a screen playing the video of you standing in one of Wembley’s boxes, dancing to Harry Styles as he sings to a sold-out stadium. It was a special day because your best friend surprised you with tickets that Bee helped her get. You had been working when tickets went on sale and were heartbroken to hear they were sold out nights. Thankfully, Bee has enough connections that she managed to get you tickets

“That is you at a Harry Styles show.”

You feel your face warm, hoping this interview will never reach him. “Looks like me.”

Jimmy shakes his head, “was that your first time?”

“Nope! It definitely won’t be my last,” you share honestly.

He shakes his head, “I’ve been to my fair share, and boy does he put on a hell of a show.”

“He really does. He’s created such a wonderful environment for many I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Jimmy grins mischievously, “I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “is it a mug with his face on it?”

The audience and Jimmy laugh. You’re too distracted and don’t notice Jimmy’s hand going under his desk until he calls your name. You’re met with a phone, and the shock quickly sets in.

“Hi, love.” A familiar accent you recognize instantly.

You look away from the phone pointed at you, instead bury your face in your hands as the audience's laugh rings loud. Harry’s laugh is the only one that stands out for you.

“That’s–hi,” you manage to breathe out, not believing that Harry was on a facetime call to you. You look around and manage to find Bee on the side. “Is this real?” You ask her, pointing to the phone.

She gives you a big grin and thumbs up. You can’t believe it.

“Are you surprised?” Jimmy questions, clearly knowing the answer.

“A bit,” you express breathlessly.

All the cameras are pointed your way, and you have to face him. Harry’s smiling, and you feel yourself melting in your seat as you can see his dimples clearly. This is not real. Your celebrity crush is not staring at you through what seems like your phone the close you look at it.

“Hi Harry,” you give him a small wave.

“How you doing, love?”

“Good, good. A tad bit embarrassed. Trying to remember how to breathe.”

Harry laughs at your response. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Jimmy cuts in, knowing you’d probably stare at the phone all day, not wanting to hang up on Harry. “Harry has something he wanted to say.”

His green eyes shine bright, and you know he’s enjoying this conversation with you. “I just finished White Lotus.”

“Shut up! You did not!”

Harry nods, “absolutely did. My band and I would get together to watch it every Sunday. Gave us something to relax over during the tour. You were my favorite,” he confesses.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “This is not real.”

“I hope you can come to a show next year. I would love to meet you?”

“I’m there,” you promise him without a second thought.

Harry nods, “good, we’ll be in touch.”

“Can I tell you something before you go?” You look at Jimmy, then back at Harry.

“This is your call, Y/N. Go ahead.” Jimmy grins, urging you on.

“Harry, thank you. I know I can say that you are an absolutely amazing person. Thank you for creating such a welcoming and safe environment at your concerts. It, in some ways, feels like coming home. I mean, you surely didn’t have to do this, but you did, and I’m so thankful. You’ve always shared your kindness with the world from when you were just a teen to now, and it just goes to show how true and honest your character is. Send my love to your Mom. She truly raised a wonderful human being.”

The crowd awes, not having expected such an emotional confession, and neither were you, but you weren’t sure at the next opportunity you would have to tell him. Harry stares at you for a few seconds with flushed cheeks and a timid smile.

“Thank you, Y/N. That is so kind of you to say. I do hope we get to meet soon. I know we’d get on fabulously. All the best to you. Good night, Jimmy. Good night, Y/N.”

Harry hangs up the facetime, and you bring your hands to your face, not believing what just happened. That did not feel real. You hoped, looking back at it, you wouldn’t cringe with embarrassment.

“That happened,” Jimmy jokes.

You reach forward and grasp Jimmy’s hand tightly. “You are my favorite person.”

“After Harry Styles, right?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Obviously.”

____

After the surprise of a lifetime, you ended the interview and walked to your dressing room, where you tried to process what in the hell happened in the last half hour. Bee walks in with the proudest smile handing you back your phone.

“We’ll head out at twenty.”

You take the time to slip off your heels and rest on the couch, unlocking your phone and seeing you have three new messages. It’s all from a new contact that you know you did not have before today.

Harry S.

It was lovely chatting with you.

Heard you’re going to be in London in a few days, would love to get dinner with you.

This is Harry, by the way.

Yeah, it seemed your life was about to get very interesting.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry story #harry fluff #harry love #harry x reader #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry one shot #pleasing #harry love on tour #harry styles x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic rec

1K notes · View notes

enchantestuff · 3 years ago

Text

miscommunication - charles leclerc

in which your Pierres little sister and reap the consequences after an eventful night in Monaco with his best friend

I think I'm going to make this into a series, like 3 more parts maybe??

part two

GIF NOT MINE!!!

warnings: smut, my failed attempt at angst (I tried), language, em yeah

3k words (I have no idea how that happened)

You had known Charles for years, which wasn't particularly surprising considering you were Pierres little sister.

When you were little you envied their friendship, constantly trying to insert yourself in their games and conversations. You had lost count of the amount of times they slammed a door in your face, demanding you to leave them alone. You hadn’t realised how annoying you were being as you followed them around everywhere, even if Pierre had scolded you for it each day.

When you were a teenager, Pierre purposely kept Charles away from you, telling him that if he even looked in your direction he wouldn't hesitate to end their friendship. You, of course, had no idea of the threat not that it mattered as you didn't paid any attention to the infamous duo during those few years, living in your own little world full of clothes , friends and different boys.

Now, however, you were an adult and all you wanted to do was support your brother throughout his career. In recent years you had gone to as many races as you physically could, but of course you had your own job and unfortunately didn’t have the time to attend any race this season.

Pierre was disappointed, he loved having you there to support him, but he understood that you had your own life and never placed any blame on you. After years of the two of you constantly ignoring each other and bickering, you had finally begun to act like siblings and all he wanted to do was make up for lost time.

You had thankfully gotten three weeks off work - well they weren’t necessarily weeks off as you still had to do your job, but your boss insisted that there was no need for you to trek to the office everyday when you were perfectly capable of doing the work at home on your laptop. The timing couldn't have been better with the triple header just around the corner, it almost seemed like a miracle and you were gonna enjoy every minute of it.

You grinned as you texted your brother.

Any spare tickets to the race :)

He replied almost immediately.

You're kidding, which one?

All of them?

Your texting was cut off by Pierres contact photo appearing on your phone. You answered instantly only to hear Pierre screaming through your speakers, he also slipped in a few delighted curse words before finally letting you talk.

“My boss gave me the next three weeks off so I’m going to go support my favourite brother” you grinned.

“Your only brother” he remarked and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

You spent the next few hours catching up and retelling pointless stories. You had gone to sleep with a lazy smile on your face and woke up the next morning to a text from Pierre, telling you that he had organized your passes for the three weekends as well as the flights, all you had to do was find a hotel. He slipped in the name of the hotel that he was staying at, and to your luck there was still room available. Now all that was left to do was wait.

You grinned giddy as you stepped off the plane and walked toward the baggage collection area, excited to finally get back to watching races in person. You rubbed your eyes in surprise when you spotted your brother waiting for you. “Pierre?” you screamed delightly, running up to him and pushing his body into a bone crushing hug. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever even if it was only a few months.

“Bonjour,” he laughed as he hugged you back.

“I thought you were busy all day today” you exclaimed once you pulled away from him.

He sheepishly shrugged at you with a lazy grin on his face. “I may have lied, are you ready to go?”

You nodded your head at him and for the first time in a long time your mind drifted towards your brother's best friend, Charles, who you hadn’t spoken to since an eventful night in Monaco a few months ago.

You cursed yourself as you thought back to that very moment.

Charles was having a party at his lovely home, you can't remember now what you were celebrating but everyone was ecstatic. You could hear the music from across the street and you knew before you even entered the house that it was going to be a night to remember.

The moment you stepped foot inside you were surrounded by multiple drunk people, all with large grins and hooded eyes plastered on them and you laughed as almost everyone stumbled around the house.

You spotted your brother in the middle of the room dancing with a pretty blonde, he had a goofy smile on his face and you knew from that sight of him alone that he was wasted. You were the only sober person there, at least that's what you thought until Charles had made his way to you with two cups in his hand, alcohol for you and water for him.

“I thought you were celebrating,” you mused as you took a sip of the dark liquor.

“Someone needs to keep these drunk idiots in check,” he joked.

“Well in that case” you said as you handed your drink to a stranger and took a sip of his water instead. You laughed at the bewildered look he threw your way before continuing, “I'm not going to let you tackle this party alone.” The smile that formed on Charles was genuine and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight.

You surprisingly enjoyed yourself the whole night, maybe that was because you knew everyone there, but most likely it was because you spent the whole night with Charles.

A few hours into the party he turned to you asking to dance, you didn't even hesitate to say yes, nerves surrounded you immediately and they only got worse when his hands dipped dangerously low on your hips. Your eyes automatically searched for Pierre and you left out a sigh of relief when you couldn't find him anywhere.

The thought of getting caught fueled both you and Charles, so when he spun you around to face him neither of you hesitated to connect your lips. You considered yourself lucky that everyone around you was too drunk to notice your heated make out and used it to your advantage. You pulled him even closer to you, moaning in his ear when he grabbed your bum and giggling at the whimper he let out.

You felt dizzy. The fact that you were both sober made your first kiss even more real.

You were anxious when he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere more private but agreed nevertheless, hoping that maybe he had wanted you for as long as you had wanted him.

He had tenderly kissed you again once he closed the door behind him.

“God, you have no idea how long i've waited to do this,” he moaned in your ear and although you knew that was just something people said in the heat of the moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe every single word that left his lips and got even more attached to the moment.

You revealed a piece of yourself to him that night, not only a physical part, but a part of your heart as you admitted your deepest secrets to him. “Fuck, Charles, I’ve always wanted you,” you moaned when he gently placed you on the bed.

You attached yourself to the kisses he placed all over your body, you paid attention to every bit of affection that he showed you, never once wanting him to stop. When he positioned himself next to you and asked if you were sure you told him there was nothing you've ever been more sure about.

You had both simultaneously moaned when he entered you, laughing at each other afterwards, which made your heart flutter. He was Charles, your brothers best friend and yet sex with him felt so natural.

He placed a tender kiss to your chest before he started moving and you couldn't help but hold him close to you, he didn't seem to mind however as he nested his head in the crook of your neck, letting you hear all the soft gasps and grunts that left his mouth.

You arched your back in pleasure when he reached the deepest parts inside you, your toes curled and your eyes rolled back and all you could think was God why didn't we do this sooner?

“Don't stop, please Charles, don't stop” you moaned in his ear, and if you weren't in a completely different world you would have noticed the shiver than ran down his entire body at your words.

“Trust me, mon amour, i never want to stop”

You weren't even aware of the moans the left your lips until Charles had grabbed your chin and looked at you with desperation written all over his face, “Merde, Y/N, i want more than anything to make this moment last but If you keep making those pretty little sounds you're gonna make me cum”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words “Shut me up then”

And he did, he grunted as he reconnected your lips, swallowing your moans and letting out his own in the process. From the kissing, to Charles’ moans and the rolling of his hips it didn't take you long to release the knot in your stomach.

You regretted it now, thinking back on it, it had completely ruined your friendship with Charles. Your daily silly texts to each other had ceased to exist, your weekly facetime calls had died and a piece of you had broken.

You didn’t expect any less, he was your brother's best friend and even though you always found him insanely attractive, you knew deep down he would have found your little crush on him weird. You always had the suspicion that he saw you as a little sister, and the way he completely ignored you after your hookup had proven them to be true.

You couldn't hate him, or even place the blame of your failed friendship on him as you also went out of your way to ignore him, something that you really regretted but couldn’t change.

“You alright?” Pierre asked as he grabbed your suitcase in his hand.

“Yeah sorry i - i don't know what happened to me there,” you choked out, walking alongside Pierre to his car.

“It's free practice tomorrow, you coming?” he asked once you were both sitting comfortably in his car.

“Yeah, of course” you nodded as you watched the tall buildings pass by in the window.

“Everyones misses you, you know?” he quickly glanced over at you while he drove, wondering what the hell you were thinking so hard about.

“Yep” you sighed, “Me too,” but all you could think about was the Ferrari driver and how awkward it would be to see him again

You had shut yourself in your hotel room for the rest of the night, the flight and overly long check in had taken all the remaining energy out of you and all you wanted to do was curl into the hotel bed and sleep for as long as you possibly could. So that's what you did, until Pierre rang your phone, telling you that he was leaving for free practice in half an hour, wondering if you needed lift, which of course you did you had mumbled to him while scrabbling out of the bed and running to your bathroom to take the quickest shower of your life.

You had somehow gotten ready in time and before you knew it you were walking around the paddock with Pierre next to you, basking in the glorious sun.

Pierre whistled in excitement when he spotted Charles walking out of the Ferrari motorhome. The brunette quickly turned at the sound, a smile forming on his face when he spotted Pierre, his eyebrows raising soon after as he finally noticed you next to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as he got closer and closer to you.

You stood firmly in your spot, uncertain if a hug would be too big of an action after months of silence between you both, quite frankly you didn’t even want to touch him, the pain that he had caused you cutting too deep. Unfortunately, he beamed at you and grabbed your hips, pulling you into his chest and rocking you both side to side.

“Hi,” you laughed, unwilling to cause a scene in front of your brother, you moved your arms to wrap around his neck.

“It's great to see you” he admitted when he pulled away and you felt your throat close up at his words. “I’ve missed you”

“I missed you too,” you smiled and although it wasn’t a lie, the words felt dirty leaving your lips. You shouldnt have missed him, not when he left you lying alone in his bed after you both had sex.

“God, you're acting like you haven't spoken to each other in months,” Pierre laughed, and you and Charles shared an awkward look with each other. The silence that followed was unbearable.

You cleared your throat as you looked around the paddock. “I'm going to get some water” you quickly spilled out and abruptly turned in the other direction, ignoring the confused look that Pierre shot in your direction. You had only taken a few steps when Charles grabbed your arm and pulled you behind a random building.

“Shh it's me” he flinched as you pushed yourself away from him, “it's me” he repeated looking at the bewildered expression on your face.

“You couldn’t have just talked to me like a normal human being?” you argued, “Did you really have to drag me behind a building?”

“I couldn't talk about you know what around you know who” he threw back and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh! You dont want to talk about us having sex infronf of Pierre” you snapped and he covered your mouth with his hand. You bit his hand and he gasped in response.

“You bit me!” he half shouted.

“You didn’t seem to mind last time” you commented , relishing in how flustered Charles had gotten.

“We need to talk about that” he choked out, looking absolutely anywhere except your eyes.

“Oh so now you want to talk about it?” you asked with an accusing tone to your voice, surpringing not only Charles but also yourself.

“I know it was a dick move, I just” he sighed “I didn’t know how to bring it up”

“How about maybe not leaving straight away? How about sending me a text explaining how you felt instead of leaving me in the dark for months? If you thought it was a mistake you could have just-”

“I didn't think it was a mistake”

You couldn't help the effect those words had on your heart, but suddenly you were even more furious, he was unintentionally playing with your heart and you didn't know how much more of it you could take.

“Then why didn't you tell me!”

You were frustrated and he wasn’t helping one bit. He had left it too late, the damage was done, you had spent months regretting your decision to climb into bed with him and a few words lazily strung together to form a sentence wasn't going to erase the emotional damage he caused you. It didn't matter anymore whether it was intentional or not

“I didn't want to ruin our friendship”

“That is the dumbest excuse I've ever heard!”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes and all you wanted to do was sob your heart out, but you refused to cry in front of him, you didn't want him to know the effect he had on you. “Look your late and i - i need to breathe”

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you ran away, unable to face the boy who broke your heart: the boy who had given you everything you could possibly want, only to snatch it out of your grasp.

You cursed yourself for getting attached to that moment because now, every time you closed your eyes, all you see was him panting on top of you and all you could feel was his lips on your skin. It was a memory that used to delight you but now all it brought was sadness and pain.

You knew your attachment issues would bring you pain one day, but only now as you crouched down next to some random building, did you realise it would be physical pain. You clawed at your neck in desperation. You couldn't breathe. Your tears were practically suffocating you and you couldn't help but think Charles' hands ripping your heart from your chest was the cause.

Unknowingly to you, Charles watched your retreating figure with tears forming behind his eyes. It had finally hit him how much he fucked things up. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought maybe you needed space, maybe you would have regretted it.

He wore his heart on his sleeve that day, everything that he told you was true, he was just so scared. So scared that he would be left heartbroken, that his feelings were unrequited, that maybe, just maybe, you would be disgusted with yourself for what you two did.

He left early the next morning to hype himself up, to finally tell you about his feelings for you that had been bubbling around in his stomach for years, but when he returned to his bedroom you were gone.

He didn't realise how much waking up to an empty bed would affect you, just as much as you didnt realise how much leaving would affect him.

He was never good at communication, but it was so easy with you, so why didn't he pick up the phone? He had no excuse except that he was scared.

It was his fear that hurt him the most. It was his fear that broke your heart and that had hurt him so much more than he thought was possible.

#Charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x reader #forumla 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #angst #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #Charles Leclerc smut #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 smut

935 notes · View notes

captainnameless · 2 years ago

Note

The video of Danny with the piñata made me think the same thing!! I think he deserves some little time and probs needs it after the shitshow of a season he’s had? Who do you think would care for him? I can see Seb or Lewis maybe, esp since he said in an interview that they’ve both been there for him since the news about mclaren dropping him….. idk I would love to hear your thoughts on this!! Xxx

i mean, either or really. they’ve both been absolute gems with him and in an ideal world they get married and adopt Daniel as their child 🫶🏻

anywho,

the first thing that popped into my mind thinking about this was that video where Daniel goes “that’s Sebastian Vettel, he’s my friend” so we’ll go with Seb for this little headspin.

i don’t think he’d drop too little, but Sebastian notices the shift, the mental toll this entire season is taken on his usually bubbly personality and bright smile. Seb notices the way he distances himself a little more each week, quiets down where he’d usually be the centre of attention, Seb knows when he’s biting back tears, flashing people a fake smile.

It’s almost like Sebastian snaps before Daniel does, it’s another shit weekend, another horrible race and a pointless finish. Daniel doesn’t know how he gets through the media obligations after, doesn’t really remember the answers he gives, does know he tries to smile at everyone nonetheless. He also doesn’t really know how he’s end up here, tugged along the wrist being led to God knows where by Sebastian Vettel who’s marching at a pace that has Daniel’s tired limbs screaming back at him.

“Seb.” He manages, a little confused by the whine in his voice. He’s shushed, but Sebastian’s grip softens a little to rub a thumb into his skin.

He follows in a haze and suddenly they’ve stopped, a door is being closed and locked and the light flickers on. He blinks against the sudden bright lightening and opens his mouth but doesn’t get a word in before Sebastian starts speaking.

“Are you okay?”

He wants to nod, wants to tell him everything is fine and continue living in the ignorant bliss he sells everyone around him until maybe he believes it too. But he’s stopped again.

“Actually, you’re not okay. Don’t even lie to me.”

There’s a sternness to Sebastian’s voice that Daniel reciprocates with an involuntary pout and the sudden urge to blink back the wetness in his eyes.

“You’re allowed to be upset, Daniel.” Sebastian’s voice has gone softer again, stepping forward to reach out a hand and it’s the right and the wrong thing to say all at once. Something breaks in Daniel, and he doesn’t know how but he fits himself against the smaller German, hands fisting in the back of his race suit while he cries, and cries. Cries for so long his throat has gone dry and his eyes hurt and Sebastian holds him through it all, moves them to the couch somewhere in between and listens, listens to the half sobbed thoughts and rambles Daniel cries out until there’s only sniffles left.

When his breathing evens out there’s a small kiss to his forehead before a juice box is held out in front of his face and Daniel can’t help the wet chuckle that leaves him. “Where did you get that?”

Sebastian shrugs, allowing Daniel to take it before his arms settle back around the boy, another kiss pressed to his temple. “Not my first rodeo.”

There’s another chuckle and a deep sigh before taking a sip. “You’re such a mother hen.”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to chuckle. “I’ll take that.”

“I should call you Mama.” Daniel adds, and Sebastian doesn’t miss the way the blush darkens Daniel’s cheeks.

“You should.”

#littlef1adventures #i word vomitted this #enjoy #me writing little Daniel? call the press #lf1a.minific

20 notes · View notes

imthebadguyyy · 3 years ago

Text

Mon Amour

Summary - You've grown up with Charles, and as much as you hate to admit it, you love him. Pierre knows, and clearly sees how desperately Charles loves you too. It's true what they say, love will always find a way.

The Monaco Grand Prix was one of the most fun, exhilarating and exciting Grand Prix's of the entire F1 Season. You were excited enough, and since you already lived nearby, all you had to do was make your way to Charles's home, and then make your way to the track together. To say you were excited was an understatement, and you could barely contain the nerves and excitement you were feeling.

Charles was nervous. He didn't know why, Monaco was his circuit, and he always drove well on the track. He had been confident through free practice, and he was starting on pole, with an excellent quali result. But he was nervous, and something told him it had nothing to do with the race, and everything to do with Y/N.

Y/N. His best friend. His go-to. His shoulder to cry on. She had been there through it all, when his dad died, when Jules died. Whenever he needed someone to talk to or just needed a hug, he could always turn to her. He had met Y/N at a go kart race, sitting with her mother, and eating an ice lolly. Her hair had been in two little ponytails, and she was wearing a pretty polka doted red and blue dress. He was sitting with Pierre, and couldn't help staring at the girl, not even paying attention to what Pierre was saying, until he had snapped his fingers in front of Charles's face to tell him the race was about to begin.

The race had been wonderful, and he had won first place. His dad and Pierre's dad had both been so proud, and had bought both of them ice creams, and as they sat eating their cones, Y/N had made her way over to the pair. "You drove really well today, and my mommy told me I should come over to say congratulations" Too surprised to say anything, he let Pierre take over, and watched as he conversed with her. Then, she turned to him and said, "Whats your name? Mine's Y/N' and he had managed to stutter out, "C-Charles"

And thats how your friendship had begun. Since then, you had accompanied him to every race he had, had been there when he signed for Sauber (Alfa Romeo) and then when he signed for Ferrari. You had been so proud, you had cried when he told you, and hugged him tight and told him that you were incredibly proud of him, and that you were sure that his dad and Jules would have been incredibly proud of him too. And then he had cried too, and you two had cried together, and spent the rest of the night together, just hugging each other.

And here you were again, at his door, looking simply stunning in the outfit you had picked for the race track, looking like an angel sent from heaven. Well, you were his angel. The problem was, he couldn't tell you. You didn't love him, and the last thing he needed was to jeopardise your relationship by confessing his feelings. His stupid, stupid feelings.

"You look gorgeous" Charles said, leaning forward to give you a hug, and a soft kiss on your cheek. If he had been looking at you, he probably would have seen how you had gotten slightly flustered at his gesture. "Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself' you replied, reciprocating his gesture by kissing his cheek. Apparently, neither one of you were good at paying attention, because you didn't see the way he blushed either. "Ready for the race?" "Always" "Is Pierre going to be there?" "Yes he is, we'll probably meet him on the way to the paddock" As much as he hated to admit it, he always felt a pang of jealousy when you brought up his best friend, because he thought that you had feelings for the Frenchman,

"Okay then" "Are you ready to go?"

Nodding your head, you picked up your purse and checked your reflection in the mirror one more time, and brushed a stray strand of unruly hair behind your ears. Grabbing the keys to his Ferrari, he closed the door as the both of you left his house. The car ride to the paddock was fairly quiet, as you made occasional comment about random things, and bopped your heads to some music.

Arriving at the paddock, Charles noticed the paps that were waiting to descend upon you two like vultures. "merde" he mumbled under his breath, knowing you didn't really liken your picture being taken by random strangers. Sighing, you reached out to touch his shoulder. Its okay. I don't mind" 'I know, but it's unfair to you to have your privacy invaded" he replied, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Hey, it's okay. Let's just go". Opening the car door, you took a deep breath to calm the nerves beginning to appear in your tummy.

But you needn't have worried. As soon as you opened the car door, Charles was by your side, lacing his fingers through yours, the other arm wrapping around your waist, to fully protect you from the prying cameras. Trying not to focus on how right it felt, to have his arm around your body, and to feel his fingers threading through your own. Your heart was beating so fast, you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it, considering how closely wrapped he was around your own body. As the Ferrari garage came into view, you began to calm down, and became aware of the fact that his arm was still wrapped around your waist, and his hand was still holding yours.

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

Walking over from the Toro Rosso/Alpha Tauri garage, Pierre spotted Charles and Y/N making their way over to the Ferrari. Noticing the way Charles kept his arm tightly around Y/N, he couldn't help but grin, and assumed that Charles had finally told Y/N how he felt about her. Grinning even more broadly, he strutted over to the Ferrari garage, and walked over to where his best friend was standing with Mattia and his race engineer. "Hello, mon ami. I see you've finally done it?" somewhat confused, Charles turned to face the frenchmen, and asked, "Done what?" 'Told Y/N you love her" Pierre replied, watching his friends face glow the same red as the colour of his car and race suit. "What?! I have done no such thing. What would make you think that?"

"Let me think, because you've been in love with her since we were children. Come on Charles, don't chicken out now. You should definitely tell her. She is an extremely attractive woman, and I won't be surprised if someone else also likes her or asks her out. You two are made for each other. Now stop delaying !" Sighing, Charles just shook his head, and went into his drivers room, turning halfway to wave at his friend. Somewhat frustrated, he walked into the room, kicking the door in the process. "fanculo, idiota!" he mumbled, hands reaching up to his head to pull on his and let out a growl.

"Charles? You okay ?" Y/N asked, peeking her head into his room, slight concern in her E/C eyes. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just nervous" 'Nervous?' she asked walking in, and sitting down next to him. "Yeah, it's a big race, and points are very important if we want to beat Mercedes and actually win this year. Besides the last race wasn't that good, and Mattia was a little upset about it. I'm just a little nervous" Reaching out to take his hand into hers, Y/N ran a soft hand through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second. "Charles, listen to me. You are an incredibly talented person. When you get in the car, you push it to the limits and you give it everything. It's okay to be nervous, but you're on pole. I know you will give it your all, and every single person in this garage believes in you. And I believe in you the most. So go out there , and give it your everything. I know you can do it" As you had been speaking, Charles had been running his thumb over your knuckles, on the hand that was holding his, and when you finished, he raised it to his lips, and pressed his soft, pink lips to your knuckles.

"Thank you, tesoro" You froze. He had never called you 'sweetheart' before. You could feel your heart rate rising ever so slightly, and your breathing become slightly shallow, as his brown hazel eyes looked up into your own, and seemingly held your gaze. The tension in the room seemed to thicken, reaching upto a point where it was nearly suffocating. Heads leaning closer to each other, his hand tightening the grip he had on yours, sliding softly up your arm, as your eyes fluttered shut, the anticipation sending your heart rate up to crazy numbers. His face was so close to yours, you could feel his breath on your lips, almost hear his heartbeat, and hoping to God he couldn't hear how embarrassingly loud yours was. Just as your lips nearly touched, there was a knock on the door, and his race engineer, poked his head in, looking somewhat awkward. "Its time to go Charles, time to get in the car"

Sighing softly, he pulled away, as your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids. "Go and win this. I'll be cheering you on" you said, not quite meeting his eyes, but giving him a soft, half hearted smile. "Thanks" he said, giving your hand a squeeze, as he walked out to the garage to get in his car. Burying your head in your hands, you felt like you could scream, sob and punch something at the same time. Letting out a shaky breath, you ran a hand over your face and stood up, making your way up to where you were watching the race from.

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

The race was over, and Charles had won 1st place, with Lewis in second and Valterri in third. As he had stood on the podium, he had found your face in the crowd, smiling and cheering for him, as you let out a whoop that he couldn't hear, but you didn't care. The adrenaline from the win was pumping through his veins, as he climbed down from the podium, eyes searching for you, as his teammates and crew congratulated him on his win, but he was really only half listening.

Then he saw you, standing in front of the garage, hair flying around in the wind that had picked up in the last lap of the race. Smiling as you looked up to see him, you began to run towards him, as he ran to meet you halfway. You jumped into his arms, as his wrapped around your thighs and your waist to keep you stable, as you wrapped yours around his muscled neck, leaning your forehead down to rest against his, as you muttered a soft "congratulations' in his ear, and pressed your lips to his temple, as his eyes closed, fully revelling in your embrace and body heat, not caring about how the paps had probably got a pretty good shot of you two, or how the tabloids were probably wetting themselves with article possibilities. 'thank you mon ange, thank you for supporting me" "anytime"

As you planted your feet back on the ground, and loosened your grip around him slowly, he moved his arm so one was wrapped around your waist, and the other rested loosely on his hip. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pierre approaching, and smiled at his best friend. "Congratulation mon ami. That was a superb race. Y/N long time no see, seems like you have forgotten me"

Giggling, you stepped away from Charles to give him a hug. "Of course not, how could I forget my best friend! I was going to saw hello before the race but I didn't get the chance. Good race!" "Thank you, It's so good to see you again here. Looks like Charles has been taking up all your time" He said, smirking at the Monégasque driver, who blushed, before looking away. Laughing, you shook your head, moving your body closer to Charles's again. "Oh Y/N you should come to the party tonight. It's on a yacht, and we can have some good fun a well. What do you say ?' "Oh I'm in!"

"You can come as one of our plus ones" Pierre said, eyes shifting over to Charles's face which was the same colour as his bright red Ferrari suit. Charles wanted to punch and hug Pierre at the same time, clearly seeing what he was trying to do. "Yeah, okay I'll be there" "Great! See you then, bye for now. Go celebrate with your man"

"your man"

Why did that sound so right? Why did it make your heart burst with happiness? Why did you want him to be your man? And why did it seem like the one thing you wanted the most was the one thing you couldn't have.

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

Looking at the mirror one last time, you smoothed out the silky material of the red satin dress you had decided to wear to the party. Paired with a black choker necklace, and a pair of sleek black heels to finish the outfit. You had gone bold with the makeup, winged liner and smoky eyeshadow. Finally, you had swiped a tube of ruby red lipstick across your lips, and sprayed some more -expensive -than -you -could -even -begin- to -fathom Gucci perfume that Charles had bought you for your birthday on your wrists, neck, ears, and body.

You didn't know what you were doing. But it felt good to be confident. It felt good to pretend as though you were completely in control, when all you wanted was to curl up in a little ball, and cry. You didn't know what you were doing, but it felt good to pretend as though you didn't care for Charles, when all you wanted to do was grab his stupidly handsome face and kiss his wonderfully soft, pink lips.

Shaking off your anxiety, you reached for the phone to call Pierre, who was supposed to pick you up and drive you to the party. Charles had wanted too, but he had to go and meet some friends who wanted to congratulate on his victory. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your black clutch, which had your phone, lipstick, tissues and your keys, just in time to hear a knock on the door. Walking over to the door of your Monaco apartment, you opened it to find Pierre, in a lovely light blue suit, hair slicked slightly with gel, and a Rolex on his wrist. As he looked at you, his eyes widened, and he looked at you in shock for a few seconds, before saying "You look absolutely stunning, princess. Absolutely gorgeous" "Thank you Pierre ! You're looking pretty dapper yourself, I must say" you replied, flashing him a smile. "Thank you Y/N/N. Someone won't be able to keep his eyes off of you" he said, smirking as he saw your eyes widen softly, as you grew visibly flustered. "Who?" You asked, suddenly interested in looking at the clutch in your hand. "Oh come on, Leonardo DiCaprio. Who do you think ?!'

"I don't know, Pierre. Why don't you tell me?"

"Ces deux idiots, Charles, you sweet dumbass!"

"Yeah right. Let's just go please, we are already late, and I don't want to be out for too long"

"Fine"

-------------------------------------------------------The party was extravagant. There were these model chicks everywhere, with the most minimal of clothing, drooling over whichever driver they could find. Charles had had this one blonde girl hit on him for nearly an hour, and he was nearing the end of his patience. He didn't want any random girl for a one night stand. He wanted Y/N. And she wasn't at the party yet. But God, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He couldn't stop thinking about the moment they had shared. They had almost kissed. His heart did little jumps whenever he thought about it, and GOD, he was not doing a good job at hiding it. Everyone in the room had noticed the lovestruck look on his face. From across the room, George and Alex made their way over the Monégasque driver, who looked lost, and slightly irritated.

"Hey man, good job today! That was an excellent race" "Thanks, you guys did brilliantly as well"

"So who's got you looking like a little lost puppy?" George asked, grinning at the man, who looked slightly flustered at his comment. "What? No one, just post race excitement I suppose?"

"I'm not taking your word for it. Who's the girl? Come on"

Just as Charles opened his mouth to speak, there was a slight distraction, as he turned towards the door on the left, where people kept coming and going, and his jaw dropped. It was Y/N. But she looked like an angel that had fallen from the heavens, and sent to bless his heart. As he watched her make her way across the room, with Pierre right behind her, he felt his mouth and throat become dry, and his heart felt like it was going to fail at any moment. His palms were becoming sweaty and he felt like a nervous wreck, ready to collapse at any moment.

"Wow, mate. Is that Y/N ? She looks stunning!" Alex said, smiling as he watched her make her way towards their little group. "Yeah it is mate. She looks absolutely gorgeous!" George said, waving to the woman as she neared them. Charles couldn't speak.He just stared. "When you've put your eyes back in your head, and closed your mouth, you could maybe compliment her, and finally ask her out." Alex said, noticing how his friend had become silent and kept opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

Laughing, George clapped Charles on the back, "Ah, so she's the one that's got you all lovey dovey. Good going mate, she's a beauty" As he finished speaking, Y/N had approached the group, and was saying hello to Alex. Leaning forward, George gave her a hug as well, having become acquainted with her through Pierre. "Y/N you look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous" he said, smiling at her, "Thank you so much! You guys all look lovely too!"

'You're too kind Y/N, George looks like he hasn't even brushed his hair back properly" Alex joked, receiving a slight shove from the Brit. "And, Charles, what do you think? How do I look this fine evening?" you asked, turning to face him. His face was slightly flushed and he mumbled something that sounded like "mimblewimble" and then cleared his throat. "You look prettier than anyone here tonight. You look like an angel"

Completely awestruck at his words, all you could do was gape, and then mutter a soft thank you, and pray to God he couldn't feel the nerves radiating off of you. "Well, despite the lovely company, and palpable sexual tension, I'm going to go find Max and Daniel, and go get a drink" Alex said, giving Y/N a hug and leaving with George. Leaving you alone with a very flustered Charles. "Do you want to get out of here?' he asked suddenly, looking at you with his warm hazel brown eyes. "I just got here, but yes please. I already feel so out of place among these models and superstars" you said, giggling softly. "Well, they've got nothing on you. Trust me, you're fifteen times prettier than anyone else here"

"Thank you Charles" you said, smiling softly, and touching his arm. "Anytime,tesoro" there it was again, that nickname that had your heart jumping. The last time he had called you that you guys had almost kissed. The memory returned, filling your tummy with butterflies, and all you wanted to do was to grab his stupidly handsome face and kiss him. The two of you made your way down to the docks, where you had a special spot that was like a hidden cave, covered with some wildflowers and ivy, that you two had discovered when you guys were fifteen, and you had had a bad day at school. Charles had hugged you, and told you, "no matter how bad a day at school is, I will always be there to hug you and make you feel better, always" That was when you had fallen in love with him.

As you made your way to the cave, you shivered, the sea air that was blowing around was surprisingly chilly, and you had forgotten to bring a jacket. Being the gentleman that he was, Charles took of his dark blue suit jacket, and draped it around your soldiers. 'Can't have you freezing to death" "I won't" you replied, regretting your decision to wear heels. As the two of you reached the cave, you sat down on the floor, and pulled off your heels, and stretched your legs out, letting out a sigh as you did so. Smiling at your actions, Charles sat down next to you, his thigh brushing against yours, arm wrapping around your waist, as your head dropped onto his shoulder.Beneath you two, the water lapped gently against the rocks, and the soft sound was calming and soothing.

For a while, you stayed that way, you tracing random patterns onto his left hand, while his right arm that was wrapped around your waist traced circles on your waist. His head was resting on top of yours now, and in the chilly air, the warmth radiating off of his body was comforting. "Y/N, do you like Pierre?" he blurted out suddenly, making you look up at him in shock. "What makes you think that?' you asked, leaning slightly away from his body to look at his face properly. "Well, I just assumed, I guess, you do seem very very comfortable and happy around him" "Oh my god, you idiot" you said, giggling softly at the slight look of jealousy on his face. "Pierre was right"

"What was he right about ?"

"Nothing"

"Look I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from its just that I love you and -"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his, as his arms wrapped around your torso, after initial surprise. Yours made his way to his shoulders, one on his shoulder, and the other to the back of his head, while his grip around your body tightened. You two fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, bodies moulding into each other, lips fitting like two puzzle pieces together. This was what you had been missing from your life. This passionate, romantic, breath taking love, one that made your heart go 200 miles an hour and then stop.

Charles couldn't believe what was happening. He was kissing Y/N, and it felt so right. She was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume was clouding his senses in the best way possible, filling him with a new need, a hunger that had been growing for so long was finally being satiated, and it was electrifying. He slid his hands up her back, to tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling ever so slightly, and revelling in the sound that left her lips.

Finally breaking away, panting and out of breath, he rested his forehead on hers. "je t'aime mon amour" he mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut. "I love you too. So much" Completely blissed out, the two remained in their embrace, neither of them wanting to break apart, from what felt like a dream. "Did you just kiss me, or am I dreaming" He asked, looking down at Y/N who had her head on his shoulder again.

"Why don't you kiss me again and find out ?"

"Of course, mon amour"

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

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 #pierre gasly #imthebadguyyfics #imthebadguyyyfics

641 notes · View notes

absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

Text

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

450 notes · View notes

teddy06writes · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a Sapnap x Karl x Quakity x Y/N ? I just like polyam ships and your Sapnap x Karl x Y/n just made me want more

Ee hee, thanks for the request

Sapnap x karl x reader x quackity (THE PEOPLE ARE ENABLING MEEEE)

trigger warnings: swearing, panic attack

premise: you and your boyfriends are out shopping/ trying to get kicked out of a target when you run into your asshole ex, when he starts to bother you your boys take care of it

(y/n/n)- your nick name

(also we’re pretending covid isn’t a thing)

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

“(y/n)! We are gods!”

You turned at Alex’s call, snorting upon seeing he and Karl T posing while standing in the target cart, Nick balanced on the front, also t posing.

You laughed at your boyfriends, quickly taking a picture before Karl started to wobble and fall, “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Yup!” Karl grinned as Alex helped him out of the cart to avoid falling.

You shook your head, quietly putting the picture onto your twitter with the caption, ‘look at these nerds <3′

“You guys are gonna die from idiocy some day.”

“Not when your there to save us.” Nick countered, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“If anything they’ll get dragged down with us.” Alex scoffed.

“Tragically,” You muttered, “Did we actually come here to do anything but solicit?”

Karl giggled, “Well I thought we were just terrorizing the people of Target.”

“The only thing we actually needed was more notecards.” Nick reminded helpfully.

You smiled, “At least one of you is useful.”

“Hey!” Alex protested, “We’re useful too!”

“Sometimes.” Karl giggled again.

“Betrayal!” He gasped dramatically as Karl threw his arms around his shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, if your useful too then, help me find notecards.”

Alex sighed dramatically, grabbing one your your hands and intertwining your fingers, “If we must.”

Karl grinned, hopping back to sit in the cart, “Lets go then!”

Nick rolled his eyes, muttering something about being ridiculous, before moving to the push the cart, you and Alex moving along beside them.

A half hour later found many random unnecessary but still necessary items piled into the cart around Karl, and note cards had still not been found.

You were hallway through the seasonal section when you sighed, “Alright this is taking too long, I’m going to actually get the note cards, I think they’re just down there, try not to break anything.”

Karl chuckled, “No promises.”

You smiled and headed out of the isle, towards office supplies.

“Well, well, well, (y/n), fancy seeing you here.”

You froze in the middle of grabbing the biggest package of notecards, trying to keep your hand still as you turned, “John,,, uh hi?”

Now, John wasn’t the worst person, no your relationship wasn’t necessarily bad, but towards the end it definitely took a turn for the worse. When you’d first brought up breaking things off he was, less than thrilled, leaving the last few weeks of your relationship a battle field of screaming matches that consisted of little more than his yells.

“It’s been a while.” He smiled.

“Uhh, yeah, it has been.” You began to fidget with your fingers, eyes darting back up the isle towards where you’d left Nick, Alex and Karl.

“Let me guess, still single?” He laughed, “Yeah it would make sense, I’ve only pulled like one person since you.”

You glanced down, “Uhh, no actually.”

John frowned, letting acid drip into his voice, “Oh, I guess the were right when they said you always moved on fast.”

“It- it- it- it’s been a year and a half?” Your attempts to keep your voce steady began to fail, “And, I’ve only been dating one of them for a few months.”

-It was true, Alex had been the last one to join your relationship a few months ago-

His eyes narrowed, “You’re not telling me you’re still on the stupid polyamory thing are you?”

You cleared your throat uncertainly, “um, y- yeah, I have three boyfriends.”

He rolled his eyes, “There's no chance you’d ever fucking pull three people. Hell you barley even managed me.”

Your gaze stayed trained on the tile floor, unspeaking.

“It’s clear you haven’t moved past fucking your way into a relationship.”

You bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes as your breathing quickened, deep down you knew it wasn’t true, as a group you all respected Karl’s asexuality, even once, over some late night conversation of cuddles and lazily traded kisses, going so far as to promise that the relationship would remain entirely romantic if it made him more comfortable, and it had.

Still, there was a nagging in the back of your head, telling you that John was right. There obviously was only one reason they kept you around.

“That really is a shame,” You felt his hand rest on your shoulder, “I know I would stay with you for more than that.”

“Get your fucking hand off of them or I will rip your arm off and beat you to death with it!”

You were simultaneously relieved and flooded with more anxiety upon hearing Nick’s voice.

“Who are you?” John asked skeptically.

“Their boyfriends, who the fuck are you?” Alex spit.

He laughed, dry and harsh, “So you’re the fucking idols who thought you could get away with dating (y/n), not that I care their very-”

“No, you shut the fuck up!” Nick cut him off before he could say anything else advancing up the isle towards him, “Why the fuck are you bothering them?!”

They continued a back and forth exchange, as you slowly slid down to the floor, nails pressing tightly into your palms, breathing far too fast.

“Hey, hey, (y/n/n), (y/n/n) look at me.”

You opened eyes that you didn’t realize had been screwed shut to see Karl kneeling sitting In front of you, looking worried.

“Can I touch you or no darlin?” He asked softly, almost making you forget the yelling happening only a few feet away.

You bit your lip, quickly shaking your head, the tiny seed of doubt John had planted in your mind starting to grow.

“Okay, that’s fine. Can you breath with me? In for seven, hold for 4 out for 8, yeah?”

After a moment of trying to breath in sync with him, you held out a hand, and understanding Karl took it, moving to pull you into his arms, “In for 7, out for 8, just like me alright?”

You all but melted into his touch, doing your best to breath normally again.

“Get the fuck outta here man!” Alex yelled.

“You’re gonna regret this.” John sneered.

“No,” Nick said firmly, “Your gonna regret messing with our partner if you don’t fucking leave.”

After you heard footsteps hurrying away you felt Alex settle on your other side, “You alright baby?”

“Their starting to breath normally again.” Karl reported, running a hand through your hair.

Nick sat down on Karl’s other side, and you all stayed sat on the floor of the offices supply isle, Alex sending death glares to anyone who tried to ask you to move.

Eventually you sat up, sniffing.

“Who was that?” Nick asked softly.

“My ex.” You murmured.

“Why was he bothering you? What did he say?”

“Stupid stuff,” You muttered, rubbing at your eyes, “C’n we go home now?”

“Of course Darlin.” Karl assured, standing up and turning to help you up.

Later, back at the apartment, after everything had been put away, you all ended up in a cuddle plie on the couch, and that seed of doubt was beginning to shrivel with every pass Nick’s hands made through your hair, every small circle Alex absently traced into your palm and every tiny joke Karl made about the movie playing.

“Guys?” You asked softly.

“Yeah?” Alex asked.

“I love you.”

Karl grinned, “We love you too.”

Alex pressed a kiss to your knuckles in understanding and Nick hummed in response.

The tiny seed of doubt was gone.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #quackity imagines #sapnap x reader #sapnap x karl x quackity x reader #sapnap x karl x reader x quackity #karlnapity #karlnapity x reader #poly #teddy06 writes #sapnap x Quackity x Karl x reader

2K notes · View notes

bcdwhcre · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request Levi getting a little drunk in the mess hall (maybe a party or something with everyone?!) and forgetting his relationship is a secret, causing everyone to be shocked when he accidentally kisses you or something? Ive just been thinking about this lately and youre my favourite Levi writer!!♥️ If you want more requests my brain is full of them!!!

“Drunken Thoughts,” Levi x Reader

Summary: Levi surprisingly gets drunk one night and reveals the dirty secret you two have🤭 aka secret relationship.

Warnings: alcohol intake incase anyone is triggered by that. ⚠️end of season 3 spoilersssss!!!!!!⚠️

The week was stressful enough and after completing their mission on reclaiming wall Maria, the scouts had made it back. At first it felt wrong for them to celebrate so it had taken them until after the memorial of their fallen members for them to finally let loose and relax a bit.

They celebrated with the best food they could have and Hange had brought drinks, making sure everyone relaxed and had fun instead of being sad about what had happened and be more positive about the future of wall Maria.

Levi had expressed to you in private that he didn’t want to go and you felt bad, not wanting to really push the topic any longer but he ended up going anyways, only because Hange forced him.

You had kept your distance away from Levi almost the whole night, it pained you to do so but your relationship wasn’t out in the open yet and you didn’t want to reveal it any time soon.

Your eyes had glanced over at him a few times throughout the night, noticing the amount of alcohol he was consuming and it had worried you a bit.

You had only taken a few drinks, trying not to rush yourself but seeing Levi down drink after drink like it was nothing had you overthinking if there was something on his mind he was trying to forget, maybe the guilt of the death of most of the scout members or maybe Erwin’s death.

As the night went on for a few hours, most of the scouts had gone through enough drinks to be up, laughing and dancing around like crazy people but it was a nice sound hearing all of them laugh and be happy.

Connie and Jean had even got up, singing obnoxiously, making the scouts continue their laughter throughout the room.

Suddenly you felt a arm wrap around your shoulders, glancing up to see Levi as he pulled you into his body.

“Baby,” He whined, making your eyes widen and you had tried to hold his body up straight.

“I think you’re ready for bed.”

He giggled in your ear, making a smile appear on your face at the amount of giggling he was doing which was rare for him to do. He had stood up straight, grabbing your hands and dragged you towards the middle of the room.

“C’monnnn, dance with me.” He started to twirl you around, grabbing your hips and pulling your body to his in seconds.

Both of your chests were pressed against each other, his face inches away and you can smell the alcohol on his breath before he had tilted your chin up, pressing his lips on yours. It was a small sloppy kiss but it had made your heart flutter, making you completely forget about the scouts in the room.

The scouts started to whistle and laugh, making you realize what was happening and you pulled back from his mouth. Everyone’s eyes were on you and it made the embarrassment wash over you, making your cheeks turn a bright red.

Levi on the other hand was giggling his ass off, watching your reaction and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling your face into his chest, stroking your hair back.

“What’s so funny? I can kiss what’s mine whenever I want.” He said out loud, making the air get caught in your throat and you started to almost choke on it.

“What’s yours?!” Hange screamed from across the room and the more you sat there, the more embarrassing it had gotten.

“Hm yes, Y/N is mine.”

“Since when?”

“Since months ago.” Levi confidently said, making you shush him from saying anymore than what he just did now.

You listened to Levi argue with everyone, hiccuping every now and then along with a little fit of giggles. He was truly acting like a child and you finally pulled yourself back into reality and grabbed onto his hand.

“Alright, bed timeee!” You said, trying to drag him out the door and surpringly he had let you.

“I’m not tired!” He began to stumble around, making it that much harder for you to walk him out the door, practically holding him up.

You had ignored his words, trying to concentrate on taking him to his bedroom without falling considering you were pretty much tipsy yourself and you were trying to carry a complete drunk. Levi kept his arm around your shoulder, his hair was a mess and the random giggles made you question what was so funny inside his head?

Once you made it to his room, you opened it up and brought him inside. You set him on the bed, watching him flop down on his back and being the dramatic baby he is.

“Levi, sit up.” You mumbled, grabbing his arm to force him up and he whined louder, making your eyebrows furrow- it felt like you were being a parent.

“I’m just trying to take the suit off, you big baby.”

“I’m not a baby, you’re a baby. Actually- make that my baby.” He rambled, making you laugh while unbuttoning his white top.

“Is that so?” You mumbled, slipping his shirt off and suddenly he had caught on to what you were doing.

“Are you trying to get me naked?” He questioned you, his hooded eyes looking up at your face but you tried not to make eye contact.

“Only to get you in bed and comfortable.”

“I think you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Levi, shut up.” You laughed again, making him pout like a child and you combed your fingers through his hair.

You had finished taking off his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers before tugging the blankets back and forced him to get underneath. You tucked him in, looking down at him and the entire time his eyes were on you.

“You’re so pretty, lay with me- please?” Your heart began to race again, nodding you head as you took off the uncomfortable clothes you were wearing and settled in bed beside him.

He moved on his side to face you, his fingers moving up to run along your face before fully caressing it. Your thoughts ran wild and you couldn’t help but think about how much of a soft clingy boyfriend he was while drunk.

“Can I get a kiss?” He kept asking you random questions, like he needed to ask for permission for stuff like that and you had gently nodded.

“Always.” You mumbled, pushing the loose strands of his hair back and he leaned over to press his lips on yours.

The mixture of the alcohol on both of your tongues made it that much more intoxicating to the both of you but Levi kept the kiss soft, like he was savoring the moment,

When he pulled back, his lips landed on your forehead before he rolled to where he was cuddling you while you laid on your back and his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Your fingers had traced shapes on his bare back, hearing a random hiccup come from his mouth and you tried to stifle your laugh, knowing he was already falling asleep and soon enough, you heard his soft snores, making you turn to kiss the top of his head.

I wish I could experience a drunk Levi

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi Ackerman #levi x reader #levi imagines #levi imagine #levi headcanons #aot imagines #levi fanfic #aot headcanons

1K notes · View notes

stardusttkachuk · 4 years ago

Text

take it out on me

Pairing: Nolan Patrick x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: smut, Dom!Nolan, spanking, choking, daddy kink, use of the color system, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, mentions of bruises, fluff, Summary: Nolan comes home from a rough roadie. Y/N suggests he take it out on her like he’s done before, but things are a bit too rough this time and Nolan ends up hurting her, sending him into a panic and promising to do everything and anything to make it better.

Nolan had been having a bad week to begin with, hell a bad season at that. There was talk of him being benched for a game, as he wasn’t producing at all. His last goal came in a shootout, but otherwise, it’d been goose eggs for a while. He had already been moved to the fourth line and he was a mixture of anxious and angry as he left for the most recent roadie.

Losing 0-9, then 1-6 at the end really tipped him off. He came home fuming, disappointed in himself, upset with the team and the tension that was radiating through the locker room the entire time. And tired. The flight was rough. All he wanted was something to eat and then to go to bed.

He was harsh with the apartment door, slamming it upon entering, cussing at himself for slamming it, knowing you’d be on him later for it. He hadn’t even noticed you standing in the kitchen, watching him with pitiful eyes.

Of course, you knew about the season. You knew how he felt about his own performances and the teams as a whole. You knew how stressed out he’d been lately.

“Nolan?” you asked tentatively, watching as he leaned back against the door.

“What?” His voice was harsh, but you could hear the softness laced around it, trying to be calm around you.

“You know the last time you were stressed and...and you took it out on me? We can do that again if you want to.”

“Seriously?” he breathed, almost out of relief. “Baby if you’re down for it, I could really use that.”

You nodded and stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and having to stand on your toes to meet his height. “I’m here, I want to.”

“You’ll say red if you need to, right?”

“You know I would,” you said, brushing your hand through his hair, disheveled from what you could only assume was the flight.

“Fuck,” he grunted, grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you up, you hooking your legs around his waist.

Nolan’s lips were on yours, blindly finding his way to the bedroom. He kicked the door closed, throwing you down onto the bed, a slight smirk crossing his features as you bounced, finding a comfortable position for yourself. He wasted no time undressing you, tossing the clothes carelessly to the floor.

“Nolan, oh fuck!” You moaned as his tongue lapped at your already soaked center.

“What was that?” He asked, hand colliding with your ass, hard. You whined at the feeling, the loss of him eating you out and now the stinging pain on your bottom.

“Nolan, please?” Your sentence died off as he spanked you again, flipping you over onto your stomach.

“What’s my name?” His question had your thighs shaking. He really must’ve had a bad week. Nolan was usually on the rough side most times, but when he got like this it meant something was really wrong.

“Daddy,” you moaned, gripping onto the pillow. He rolled you back over again, giving you a quick smile before delving back between your thighs. He was quick to lift your legs over his shoulders, gripping your thighs and mouthing at your clit.

“More,” you begged, grabbing his hair and pulling at the brown locks, eliciting a moan from him. He fucked you with his tongue, his thumb flicking your clit and sending you into your first orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. You taste so good,” Nolan hummed, using his shirt to wipe off his chin. Your cheeks reddened at the sight you’d never get used to.

“How many times do you think you can cum tonight, Y/N?” He asked, his middle finger entering you.

You hummed, holding onto his wrist as he fingered you.

“Answer my question,” he demanded, sending butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“F-Four,” you stuttered, and he smirked, adding a second finger and crooking them against your g-spot. You writhed on the bed, mouth hung open in an ‘o’ shape as he pumped his finger in and out of you, his thumb brushing your clit occasionally.

“You really think only four?” He chuckled, one hand now holding your hips down, his eyes focused on your pussy and what his hands were doing to you. “I bet I could get five.”

You moaned at his statement, trying to push your hips up, but failing as he held you down. It wasn’t long before the familiar warmth grew in your stomach, the sounds coming from your lips only urging Nolan to continue, barely even slowing when you released on his fingers. It was only when you began to squirm under his touch that he pulled his fingers out, wiping the excess on his pants.

He unbuttoned his dress shirt throwing it somewhere onto the floor to join your discarded clothing. Nolan laid down on his back, pulling you over his hips, his hard-on visible through the slacks he had on, pushing up against your core.

You raised up on your knees and undid the belt and button of his pants, sliding them, along with his boxer briefs off. Nolan kicked them off his ankles, before grabbing your hips and slamming you down on his cock, the two of you crying out together in pleasure.

“Ride me, baby girl,” he ordered and you rocked your hips against his, bouncing a few times, but it clearly wasn’t enough for Nolan. He began thrusting himself into you, his hands digging into your hips hard as he fucked you. It wouldn’t surprise you if tomorrow you’d find bruises where his fingertips had been.

Nolan’s hand trailed from your hip, up to your rib, stopping to tease your breast, thumbing over your nipple until you were whimpering, before finally coming to stop at the base of your throat. You slowed down for a second to register what was happening, but with one look from Nolan, you knew exactly what he wanted. His hand tightened around your neck and you leaned into it, letting him take control.

“Cum,” he growled, his lips turning upwards into a smile at your choked moan as you came on his cock.

He let go of your throat, checking in with you quickly. “Green,” you said. He didn’t give you long to recover, pushing you face down onto the bed, his hand gripping at your shoulders as he entered you again.

“Scream baby. Want the neighbors to hear you,” he spoke, using your shoulders for leverage as he slammed into you repeatedly.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

“Who’s fucking you?” he asked.

“Nolan,” you moaned, your breath hitching when he thrust into you harder.

“Who?”

“Daddy!” you cried.

“Good girl,” Nolan grinned and pulled out of you. “On your back,” he grunted, roughly helping you flip over. You were starting to get tired, but nowhere near your end, still willing to be there for him. You could tell the anger was beginning to fade, but he was still in his role, not ready to give it up yet.

He slammed back into you and you arched up, screaming out his name as he pounded into you. His hand rested around your throat once more and you swallowed hard, catching his eye and nodding, a silent message that meant he could do it. His grip tightened, just slightly again at first, enough for you to feel it but not enough to hurt. You moaned, closing your eyes tightly.

Gradually, he tightened his hold around your throat. The harder he fucked you, the harder his grip became, much tighter than the first time. You watched the pleasure on his face as he chased his high but you realized he was no longer paying attention, or caring how hard he was choking you.

It was getting to be too much, your airway being cut off and the feeling of his fingers squeezing against your skin starting to cause pain. “Yellow,” you rasped, grabbing his arm to try to get him to back off. The pressure on your throat immediately faded and Nolan tore his hand away, his movements stilling as he met your eyes.

“Fuck. Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, cupping your cheek with one hand as he held himself up with the other. “Shit. I’m so sorry. You okay?” he questioned again.

You nodded, taking in a deep breath. “I’m okay,” you assured. “Keep going, please?”

Nolan kissed your forehead gently, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Are you sure? We can stop, baby, it’s okay.”

“I know. I want to. Want you to cum with me, okay?”

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay,” he nodded, his hips snapping to meet yours again. He leaned down, kissing your jaw. It was slow, no longer rough but still hard enough to bring you both to the edge and falling over it, cumming together. It was closer to making love than letting him fuck his anger out with you. Nolan spoke a few apologies in your ear, you assuring him again that you were okay as you carded your fingers through his hair and you both fell out of your roles.

You were still hurting though and Nolan could tell. He carefully lifted you from the bed, carrying you down to his bathroom and starting a hot bath. He helped you get cleaned up, trying not to stare at the redness that was present on your neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said once more and you frowned, leaning over the edge of the tub to kiss him.

“I’m okay, Nols. Are you?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I feel better. Thank you.” He kissed your forehead, dipping his hand into the water and gently splashing it onto your back. “I love you. I needed that.”

“I know you did,” you giggled.

“You promise you’re okay?”

“Tired. But you didn’t hurt me, I promise I’m fine.”

He nodded again, finally taking your word. “Ready for bed?”

“Carry me?” you asked, lifting your arms up to him which made him chuckle. He helped you out of the bath, wrapping a towel around you as he sat you on the counter. He dried you off, being extra careful when it came to your hips and your neck, gently patting those areas dry.

You fell asleep quickly, underneath the warm sheets, and curled up against Nolan’s torso, your head on his chest with his fingers gently rubbing your back, the sound of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby in your ear.

Nolan’s stomach sank the next morning. He woke up before you did, his smile wide when you were still in the same position you had fallen asleep in, but his eyes drifted to your neck; the red spot that was there last night had now turned into a reddish-purple bruise and he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He had done that to you. He hurt you.

He felt like he was going to throw up as panic set in, wondering how on earth he was going to make it up to you, how he was going to prove that he never meant to hurt you and that he would never hurt you. It was one thing for you to have bruises on your hips or thighs, but this was your neck, a place that everybody was going to see and those bruises were there because he got too carried away last night.

He slipped out of bed quietly, thankful that his movements hadn’t woken you up. It was still early and he knew you needed the sleep. It wasn’t worth it to wake you up, so instead, he left a note on the nightstand, dressing comfortably before leaving his apartment, skipping breakfast entirely as he drove to the nearest drugstore.

Nolan got a few stares as he stood in the makeup section, reading off labels and trying to decide which brand was the best brand when to him they all looked the same. He’d watched you do your makeup hundreds of times but none of this stuff looked like the same things you had.

Nolan settled on two different types of foundations that were two different brands, three concealers, a container of setting powder and a foundation that was in powder form and not liquid form like the other two. He also found a color correcting concealer, throwing that into his basket as well.

He chose to go through the self-checkout lane, still panicky from this morning and wanting to avoid any looks from one of the checkout ladies. They were older and he was sure they didn’t know who he was, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself in case they did know.

He really hoped to still find you asleep when he got home, but when the smell of coffee filled his nose as he stepped into the apartment, he knew you were awake and moving. “Baby?” he called, footsteps soft on the wood floor, the plastic bag rustling as he walked.

He found you in the bathroom wearing one of his shirts, stood in front of the mirror. He frowned, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I would never hurt you.”

“I know, Nolan. You didn’t hurt me.”

“But, I did. Fuck. You-You had to tell me to slow down, you’ve never had to do that before,” he worried, setting the bag on the bathroom counter.

“But you didn’t hurt me,” you reassured, resting your hands against his chest. “You backed off when I told you to. And you made sure that I was okay. If you had done something seriously wrong, you know I’d tell you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I love you so much and I didn’t mean to take it that far last night. Just with everything going on and I kept it all bottled up, I-I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, love. But I’m okay. Promise.” You kissed his cheek softly, letting him pull you into a tight hug and hold you for a little while. “What’s in the bag?” you spoke up, turning your head to look at him.

Nolan chuckled, pulling out the different makeup items he had bought. “Just in case you needed something to cover it up with. I didn’t really know what to get, so I got a few different brands and different types of products, hopefully, it works.”

You laughed, kissing him quickly. “Thank you, baby.”

“I can make breakfast. Any requests?”

You hummed, “Pancakes?”

“Comin’ right up.”

“Can we have breakfast in bed?”

“Of course. You finish up what you need to do in here and I will be right up with pancakes.” Nolan pulled you into another hug, resting his cheek on your shoulder, his lips gliding along your neck and jaw, making you giggle at the soft and tickling feeling.

“Hey Nol!” you called after him as he left, peeking your head out the bathroom door and catching him before he made it to the kitchen.

Nolan turned to you with a smile. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His smile widened. “I love you too.”

Tags: @merchantjjreply @blueeyedbesson @obxmxybxnk @thedemonsimpofcamphalfblood @brebear121 @stars-canucks @sidscrosbyy

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick smut #nolan patrick fic #hockey #hockey fic #hockey smut #nhl #nhl fic #nhl smut #nolan patrick fluff #hockey fluff #nhl fluff #jj

476 notes · View notes

yinses · 4 years ago

Text

B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !!

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind. really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature.

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna blessings #sukuna ryomen

1K notes · View notes